#she could hold the edge of his screen
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
numberonetacostan · 2 months ago
Note
i’ve been skimming through your blog and this is mostly unrelated to what i’m about to say but the idea of mic and taco making out and then refusing to speak about it for a month is so funny to me. absolute train wreck lesbians
anyway how do we feel about taco x mic x mepad polycule bc i have so many ideas and have yet to see another person consider the ship
Hi there!!!!^^ Welcome, and thank you for submitting!!! :] yeah lol tacomic are disaster lesbians but they'll figure it out some day <3.
I FEEL SO SO SO VERY POSITIVE I CAN NOT PROPERLY ARTICULATE HOW POSITIVELY I FEEL. GOLD MEDAL FOR YOU ANON. PLEASE SEND IN YOUR IDEAS I WANT TO EAT THEM!!!!!!!!!! I CONSIDER THE SHIP SO HARD AND LOVE IT. I WILL CONTINUE TO SHOUT BECAUSE I LOVE IT. I THINK TACO WOULD GET TOGETHER WITH BOTH MEPAD AND MIC FIRST, WHICH WOULD LEAD TO THEM CONNECTING AND GETTING TO KNOW EACH OTHER BETTER AND THEN THEY WOULD BECOME A FULL POLYCULE TOGETHER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!^^
also anon idk if you would consider adding toilet but i think a mic x taco x mepad x toilet polycule would be the funniest and love-iest ever /nf though ofc okay thanks bye
14 notes · View notes
neferaskingdom · 2 months ago
Text
♡ Vegas Baby | MV1
NEFERASKINGDOM
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Summary: After winning his fourth world championship, Max Verstappen stuns the world with a live radio proposal.
Tumblr media
A/N: This was inspired by this post by @altxanna idea so good it made me get over my writer's block and write this 4.2k monstrosity.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
MAX VERSTAPPEN MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
Tumblr media
Max Verstappen crossed the finish line in fifth place, but that didn’t matter. The entire world was fixated on the fact that he had just won his fourth World Championship.
“AND MAX VERSTAPPEN DOES IT AGAIN! FOUR WORLD TITLES!” David Croft shouted, his voice teetering on the edge of hysteria. The Las Vegas skyline lit up like a fireworks display on overdrive, the crowd roaring in approval.
“Forget where he finished—he’s a four-time world champion!” Martin Brundle yelled, equally excited. “This is history!”
Max, however, barely seemed to notice he’d crossed the line in fifth. He was just… Max. Calm. Collected. His voice came through the radio, steady as always, but with a hint of amusement.
“Thanks, guys. It’s been an incredible season. I’m so proud of the team. Huge thanks to GP, Christian, everyone.”
“You’ve done it, Max! Four-time champion, man!” GP screamed, clearly unable to keep the excitement in. “This is massive, mate! You’ve earned this!”
“Yeah, I know,” Max said, his voice deadpan. “But listen, there’s one more thing.”
The radio went quiet for a second.
“Uh… What’s that, Max?” GP asked, his tone suddenly cautious.
Max didn’t respond right away. Then, he casually dropped the bomb.
“Y/n, a bet’s a bet. We’re getting married tonight.”
“WHAT?!” GP exploded. “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY?”
Max’s tone didn’t change. “We’re getting married. Vegas chapel. Tonight.”
The entire Red Bull garage froze. Even the other engineers looked around in total confusion.
Max continued, his voice as if he were discussing the weather. “It’s been planned. I won the fourth title, she agreed to the bet, so… wedding time.”
GP sputtered. “Max, you—WHAT? No, no, no. You can’t just say that on the radio! You can’t just—”
“I’m doing it,” Max said, already tired of the conversation. “It’s happening. Vegas. Tonight.”
The radio was dead silent for a long moment, then GP finally spoke, his voice laced with a mixture of disbelief and dread. “Max, I—What in the world did I just hear? Are you seriously making your wedding announcement over the team radio?”
“Of course, I’m serious,” Max replied. “She said if I won my fourth title in Vegas, I could pick the wedding date. So, I picked tonight.”
“Max, you can’t—you—what the hell is wrong with you?!” GP spluttered.
Back in the commentary booth, David Croft could barely hold it together. “Did Max Verstappen just announce his wedding on live radio after winning his fourth world championship? Is that what I just heard?!”
“I think that’s exactly what you heard, Crofty,” Martin Brundle said, voice dripping with astonishment. “This is pure, unfiltered Verstappen.”
David Crofty just stared at the screen, blinking in disbelief. “Honestly, I can’t even process this. We’ve seen some wild moments in F1, but this... this might just take the cake.”
“Yeah,” Brundle said with a chuckle. “You can’t script this stuff. Not even in Vegas.”
Meanwhile, in Red Bull’s hospitality area, Y/n was standing stock-still, her eyes wide as she stared at the screen. The radio call still blaring in her ears.
“Did—did he just announce our wedding? Like… right now?!” she hissed, her hand gripping the counter in disbelief.
A Red Bull mechanic standing nearby looked just as stunned. “Uh, I think he did, yeah.”
“He’s lost it,” one engineer muttered under his breath, his face pale.
“I don’t even know what’s happening anymore,” another whispered.
The others weren’t any better off, most of them looking like they might faint. A PR rep came over, trying to maintain professionalism but clearly in shock. “Y/n, um… Max just… did he just announce your wedding?”
“Don’t look at me,” Y/n groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I can’t even… He’s the worst.”
“Vegas, baby!” another joked, only to get smacked in the arm by Y/n as she stormed past.
Back on the track, Max, utterly relaxed, parked his car in parc fermé and stepped out, throwing his helmet in the air before catching it like it was no big deal.
“So, yeah,” Max said, grinning at the cameras. “Got my fourth title, and now I get to marry my girl. Vegas chapel, let’s go!”
The reporters and photographers surrounding him stared at him in utter confusion.
“Wait, what? You’re—what?!” one reporter stammered.
Max smirked. “Yep, Vegas. I won, she lost, and now we’re getting married.”
He tossed a thumbs-up to the camera as if it were a completely normal thing to say.
“Max,” one reporter finally managed, “you’re serious about this, right? You’re really getting married in Vegas?”
Max’s grin widened. “I’m serious. A bet’s a bet. No turning back.”
Back in the Red Bull garage, chaos had officially set in. Christian Horner, who had been pacing for the last five minutes, finally stopped and glared at a nearby mechanic. “What am I supposed to do with this now?!”
“I don’t know, Christian,” the mechanic said, holding up his hands in defeat. “Maybe we start picking out flowers?”
“Someone get me a drink,” Christian muttered, walking off, leaving a sea of confusion behind him.
Y/n stormed through the paddock like a woman possessed, her face a mix of disbelief, panic, and barely contained rage.
She spotted Max leaning casually against a barrier in parc fermé, looking like he had no care in the world—despite having just announced their impending Vegas wedding to the entire world. He was surrounded by Lewis, Fernando, George, and Carlos, who were all still there congratulating him and clearly trying to comprehend what had just happened.
“MAX!” Y/n screeched as she closed the distance.
Max turned, his smug grin stretching even wider. “Oh, there she is! The future Mrs. Verstappen. Took you long enough.”
Y/n planted herself directly in front of him, glaring. “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?”
Max blinked, his expression far too innocent. “What? I kept my promise.”
“Your promise?” Y/n echoed, incredulous. “You hijacked the championship celebration to announce a fake wedding! On LIVE TELEVISION!”
“It’s not fake,” Max said matter-of-factly. “A bet is a bet.”
Carlos, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow. “Wait, wait, wait. You bet your wedding on the championship?”
“Of course,” Max said with a shrug, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m a man of my word.”
George choked on air. “You’re a menace.”
“Exactly,” Y/n said, throwing her hands in the air. “Max, this is insane! You can’t just—”
“Relax, schatje,” Max interrupted, his tone annoyingly casual. “It’s Vegas. This is what people do here.”
“Not normal people!” Y/n snapped.
Lewis, still dabbing at his face with a towel, gave a bewildered laugh. “I’m sorry, are we actually talking about a real wedding right now?”
“Yes,” Max said confidently. “Tonight.”
“No,” Y/n shot back.
“Yes.”
“MAX!”
“Yes, Y/n,” Max said, leaning forward slightly. “We are getting married tonight, and that’s final.”
“Final?!” she spluttered. “How is this final? There’s no plan, no venue, no—”
“Vegas has plenty of chapels,” Max interrupted smoothly.
“I don’t have a dress!”
“You’ll look great in anything,” Max countered.
Y/n groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I don’t even have someone to walk me down the aisle!”
Max tilted his head, clearly unbothered. “Oh, that’s easy.” He turned to his left, where Lewis stood mid-sip from his water bottle. “Lewis! Can you walk Y/n down the aisle tonight?”
Lewis froze, the bottle halfway to his mouth. “What?”
“Can you walk her down the aisle?” Max repeated, as if this were a completely reasonable request.
“I—” Lewis blinked, looking between Max and Y/n. “Uh… sure?”
“What?! No!” Y/n shouted.
“Why me?” Lewis asked, baffled.
Max shrugged. “You’re a world champion. She deserves someone of high status.”
Before Y/n could combust, Fernando Alonso stepped forward, a sly grin on his face. “Hold on,” he said, raising a hand. “If anyone is walking her down the aisle, it should be me. I’m the most appropriate for the role.”
Lewis turned to him, visibly confused. “How do you figure that?”
Fernando gave a dramatic shrug. “Experience. I’m wiser, more distinguished. A father figure, if you will.”
Y/n groaned, “Oh my God, Fernando—”
Lewis snorted. “Father figure? Please. More like grandfather figure.”
The group exploded into laughter. George doubled over, wheezing, while Carlos clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his own cackles.
“You wound me, Hamilton,” Fernando said, his tone mock-offended.
“Yeah, but I’m not wrong,” Lewis quipped, smirking.
“This is not happening,” Y/n muttered, covering her face with her hands.
Max leaned closer to her, his grin pure mischief. “See? Problem solved. You have two excellent candidates to walk you down the aisle.”
“This is NOT solved!” Y/n screeched.
George finally spoke up, still chuckling. “You know, for the record, this is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen”
“Agreed,” Carlos said, shaking his head with a grin. “But I can’t look away.”
Max clapped his hands together. “Alright, then. We’re all set! Lewis or Fernando—it’s Y/n’s choice.”
“I CHOOSE NEITHER!” she yelled, clearly on the verge of a breakdown.
Max leaned back, entirely unfazed. “Suit yourself. But one way or another, schatje, we’re getting married tonight.”
Y/n turned to the other drivers, her eyes pleading. “Can someone PLEASE talk some sense into him?”
Lewis shrugged. “I don’t know, Y/n. He seems pretty set on it. You might just have to roll with it.”
Fernando smirked. “And let me know when you decide. I’ll be practicing my ‘giving away the bride’ speech.”
George buried his face in his hands again, mumbling, “This is a fever dream.”
Y/n, meanwhile, was contemplating her life choices as Max grinned at her, utterly pleased with himself. This was going to be a nightmare—and she was the star attraction.
Suddenly, Lando came sprinting out of nowhere, practically skidding to a stop in front of Max. His curls were a chaotic mess, and his face was split into an ear-to-ear grin that made him look like an overexcited puppy.
“MAX!” Lando yelled, throwing his arms up. “FOUR-TIME WORLD CHAMPION! YOU LEGEND! Also mate, what the hell?! Are you really getting married?!” 
Max turned, his ever-present grin widening. “Obviously.”
“I thought it was just a rumor!” Lando said, flinging his helmet onto a nearby table. “I mean, come on, you say insane stuff on the radio all the time! I figured this was one of those things.”
“Nope.” Max popped the “p” for emphasis. “It’s happening. Tonight.”
Y/n, who had been pacing nearby in a futile attempt to process her life choices, groaned audibly. “I hate all of you. All of you.”
Lando glanced at her, then back at Max. “Wait, so this is real? Like… actually real?”
“As real as it gets,” Max replied, clapping Lando on the shoulder. “And since you’re here…”
Lando squinted. “Since I’m here, what?”
Max’s grin turned sly, his hand still on Lando’s shoulder. “How do you feel about being my best man tonight?”
Lando froze, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. “Wait, what?”
“You heard me,” Max said, still looking far too pleased with himself.
“Me?!” Lando gestured wildly at himself, his voice rising an octave. “Why me?!”
“Why not you?” Max countered smoothly.
“I don’t know!” Lando threw up his hands. “You could ask your trainer, your engineer—anyone! We’ve been rivals this entire year!”
Max tilted his head, his expression softening slightly. “Exactly. We’ve had a lot of ups and downs this year, yeah? Fighting for the championship and everything. But at the end of the day…” He paused, his grin shifting to something more genuine. “You’re a good friend, Lando. One of the best. And I’d like us to bury the hatchet. Tonight.”
The sudden sincerity hit Lando like a truck. His eyes widened, his lip quivering just a little as he stared at Max. “Max…”
The group went quiet—well, as quiet as it could be with the chaos of the paddock swirling around them. Even Y/n stopped pacing to stare, her eyebrows raised in surprise.
“You really mean that?” Lando asked, his voice thick with emotion.
“Of course,” Max said, giving Lando a firm pat on the back. “You’ve been there through all of it, mate. Who else would I want standing next to me tonight?”
Lando’s hand flew to his face, his bottom lip wobbling. “Oh my God. I think I’m gonna cry.”
“Don’t cry,” George mumbled, clearly trying to stifle a laugh. “This is ridiculous enough already.”
“Shut up, George!” Lando snapped, though it lacked any real venom. He sniffled, blinking rapidly. “Max, you big idiot. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Max smirked. “Well, don’t get used to it.”
Y/n, watching this entire exchange with her arms crossed, muttered under her breath, “I cannot believe this is my life right now.”
Carlos, standing nearby, leaned over to George and whispered, “Do you think Lando will actually cry at the altar?”
“Oh, 100%,” George replied without hesitation.
“I’M NOT CRYING!” Lando shouted, wiping furiously at his eyes.
“Sure, mate,” Carlos said, grinning.
“Shut up!” Lando whirled back to Max, pointing a slightly wobbly finger at him. “Fine! I’ll do it. I’ll be your best man. But only because that was the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“Good.” Max nodded approvingly. “We’re gonna have a great time. Bring tissues, though. You’ll need them.”
Lando groaned. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re emotional,” Max teased, clapping him on the back again.
“Can I leave now?” Y/n interjected, looking thoroughly exasperated.
“Nope,” Max said cheerfully. “We’ve still got wedding planning to do. And Lando needs to rehearse his speech.”
“Speech?!” Lando exclaimed, his face paling. “No one said anything about a speech!”
“Oh, come on,” Carlos said, grinning. “Just wing it.”
“This is a nightmare,” Y/n muttered.
“See, schatje?” Max said, turning to her with a mischievous smile. “Everything’s settled”
“Kill me now,” she groaned, dragging her hands down her face.
“Not before the wedding,” Max quipped. “I need my bride alive, schatje.”
Carlos, grinning, nudged George. “Do you think she’ll kill him before they even make it to the altar?”
“I actually might” Y/n snapped, making everyone laugh—except her.
Max clapped his hands together, cutting through the lingering laughter. “Alright, boys, fun’s over. See you after the podium, yeah?”
Carlos snorted, throwing an arm around George. “Come on, hombre. Let’s get out of here before they decide to do something crazier.”
Max turned to Carlos, his grin turning devious. “Speaking of you, Carlos, I need another groomsman. What do you say?”
Carlos blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Me? Really?”
“Obviously,” Max said, rolling his eyes. “You’re good at standing around looking pretty. Perfect for the job.”
“I’m honored,” Carlos said, puffing out his chest dramatically.
Y/n, standing a few feet away, raised her hand. “Dibs on George for my side, then.”
George’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, what?”
“I called dibs,” Y/n said firmly, crossing her arms.
“That’s not how this works!” Max exclaimed, glaring at her.
“It is now,” she shot back, grinning.
Max groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You are impossible.”
“You’re marrying me,” she said sweetly. “This is your problem now.”
Before Max could argue further, he grabbed her hand, tugging her away from the group. “We need to pick more people. Properly.”
As they walked through the paddock, Max started listing names under his breath. “Alright, I want Charles on my side.”
“No way,” Y/n said immediately.
Max frowned. “Why not?”
“Because I’m picking him,” Y/n declared, speeding up her pace as soon as she spotted Charles standing by his car.
Max groaned. “You can’t just steal all the good ones!”
“Watch me.”
By the time they reached Charles, Y/n was already stepping in front of Max, her grin wicked. “Charles! You’re going to be my maid of honor.”
Charles looked up, his face blank with confusion. “Wait, what?”
Max shoved Y/n aside, scowling. “Ignore her, Charles. You’re going to be one of my groomsmen.”
“No, he’s not!” Y/n snapped, stepping back in front of Max.
“Yes, he is!” Max shot back, sidestepping her.
Charles blinked between them, his brows furrowing. “What is happening right now?”
“You’re gonna help me with my wedding,” Y/n said, grinning like she’d just won the lottery. “It’s happening tonight.”
Charles just stared at her, still not sure if he was in a dream or being pranked. “Uh… are you serious?”
“Charles, listen to me,” Y/n said, grabbing his hands dramatically. “I need you on my side. You’re the only one who understands how insane Max is.”
Max pulled her back by the shoulder. “He does not understand that! He’s my friend, not yours.”
Charles raised a hand. “Guys, what—”
“Do you really want to stand next to Max?” Y/n asked, cutting him off.
Max glared at her. “Do you really want to be stuck with her?”
“I feel like I don’t want to be stuck with either of you,” Charles said cautiously, his confusion growing.
“Charles,” Y/n pleaded, gripping his arm. “Please. You’ll get to wear something cool”
Charles blinked, still completely befuddled. “I… I don’t know what’s happening. Am I even invited to this wedding? Because you’re asking me to do a lot without any context.”
“Don’t listen to her!” Max interjected, gesturing wildly. “You’ll have more fun on my side. I’ll let you hold the rings.”
“No we’re letting Yuki hold the rings!” Y/n shouted.
Charles blinked again, looking between them like they’d both lost their minds. “Are you two seriously fighting over me right now?”
“Yes!” they yelled in unison.
Charles sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“Say yes to me, Charles,” Y/n said, batting her eyelashes.
“No, say yes to me,” Max countered, practically growling.
Charles threw his hands up. “Fine! I’ll be on Y/n’s side. But only because she asked first.”
Y/n cheered, sticking her tongue out at Max. “Suck it!”
“I feel like I should be insulted,” Max muttered as Charles smirked at him.
The wedding was somehow happening. In the span of a few hours—thanks to an intense series of last-minute phone calls, frantic text messages, and a team of Red Bull employees being worked to the bone—the ceremony was set to begin. And despite the fact that no one really knew how they’d gotten here, the whole thing had turned into the weirdest Formula 1 event in history.
Y/n stood in the back, adjusting her dress, eyeing the people around her in disbelief. Max had somehow managed to throw together an entire wedding in record time, which was somehow both impressive and terrifying. She was walking down the aisle with Lewis and Fernando—two of the most iconic figures in F1. She couldn’t decide between them, so she’d invited both to walk her down the aisle. Because, why not?
“You sure you’re okay with this?” Lewis asked, smoothing out his jacket. His suit was impeccable, of course. He was an icon of style, so a last-minute wedding wasn’t going to stop him from looking good.
“I’m just trying to survive this,” Y/n muttered
“We’re in Vegas. Anything goes,” Fernando quipped, the slightest hint of a smile on his lips. “At least the wedding's got personality."
“You both know I’ll never live this down, right?” Y/n said, shaking her head. "This whole thing is so Max, I feel like I should apologize to everyone for being part of it."
“You’ll be fine,” Fernando added with a smile, adjusting his cufflinks. “It’s Max. You know he doesn’t do anything half-heartedly. He’s probably already planned the honeymoon.”
Y/n laughed nervously. “I’m pretty sure he has. You’ve both seen what happens when Max gets an idea in his head. And somehow... this is actually happening.”
“You’ve got this,” Lewis said. “We’re here for you.”
Before Y/n could respond, the doors swung open, signaling that it was time. The aisle was a bit too short for a proper procession, and the whole thing had a sense of hurried chaos as they started walking down toward the altar.
At the front, Max stood there waiting, looking like he was about to burst with excitement. His best man, Lando, had been fighting tears all night and was now sniffling into a tissue. "I swear this is the happiest day of my life," Lando muttered to Carlos, wiping his eyes.
Carlos, looking slightly concerned, just shook his head. “It’s their wedding Lando, not even your own. stop bawling.”
“Yeah, but it’s their wedding,” Lando said, eyes still damp. “There’s too much love in the air.”
Max had his hands tucked in his pockets, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. When he spotted Y/n, he gave her an exaggerated wink, as if to say, “We made it.”
“You good?” Fernando asked, glancing at Y/n as they reached the front.
“I’m questioning every life choice I’ve made,” Y/n muttered under her breath, feeling the full weight of the absurdity of the situation.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Max said, grinning.
At the back of the room, Oscar and Franco stood with baskets of flowers, both looking thoroughly confused in their roles as flower boys. Oscar had been dragged into this because of his unwillingness to protest. Franco, on the other hand, was too amused to care about the situation and just went along with it.
“Oscar, why are we doing this again?” Franco whispered, furrowing his brows as he sprinkled petals on the floor.
“Because Yuki said we had to. And I’m not arguing with him,” Oscar muttered, holding his basket as if it were a grenade about to go off.
“Who cares? It’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience! Attending Max Vertsappen’s wedding?,” Franco said with stars in his eyes, “I’ll tell my grandkids about this.”
Yuki, holding the rings, couldn’t contain his excitement as he gave them instructions. “Guys, you’re doing great. Just, uh, try not to look confused. I need this to look professional. Oscar throw the petals properly! more passion! more energy! more footwork!”
“I’m already questioning my entire existence,” Oscar said, looking at Franco for solidarity. Franco just smiled and threw a handful of petals into the air.
The Elvis officiating the wedding was already in full swing, not entirely sure of the gravity of the moment but having a blast nonetheless.
"Y’all ready to get hitched?" Elvis said, his voice more vibrant than Y/n could’ve imagined.
Max, barely containing his excitement, looked over at Y/n. “Ready for this, love?” he asked, his voice low, though it carried a hint of playfulness.
Y/n smiled, glancing at him for a moment. “More than ever.”
Then, in front of everyone, they exchanged their vows.
Max spoke first, his voice unwavering, but there was an undeniable tenderness in his words. “Y/n, you’ve turned my world upside down. You’ve made every race, every moment, better just by being there. I promise to keep being the person you’ve decided to stand at an altar with, the person you love—even when I’m an absolute nightmare. I’ll always fight for us, for this. I love you.”
Y/n could feel her heart in her throat as she spoke. “Max, you’ve always been… Max. But you’ve shown me that you are a person with the biggest heart. You’ve made me laugh, cry, and love harder than I thought I could. You’re my best friend, and I can’t wait for the next chapter of this crazy life with you. I love you.”
There were no grand gestures or over-the-top theatrics; instead, it was just them—raw, honest, and completely present in this moment.
Max smiled at her, the kind of smile that made everything feel right, before turning to the officiant.
“Elvis, hit me with that ‘you may kiss the bride’ line,” Max said, giving a wink.
And so, amidst the madness, they kissed, sealing their vows with a moment that felt right in all its simplicity. The crowd cheered, some clapping and others, like Lando, wiping away happy tears. It wasn’t the wedding anyone had expected, but it was exactly what Max and Y/n had needed.
As they pulled away, Y/n’s gaze met Max’s, and for a brief moment, it was just the two of them, everything else fading away.
As the ceremony ended and the newlyweds turned to leave, the crowd of friends and teammates erupted into applause, some of them still trying to process what had just happened.
Lando was grinning, wiping his eyes. “This is so perfect. I’m still not sure how we managed to get here in two hours, but it’s amazing.”
Charles was smiling too, giving Y/n a thumbs up. “Congrats, both of you. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Max is married now.”
Lewis patted Max on the back. “She’s got you now. Good luck with that.”
Y/n smiled at him, a little breathless. “So, are you planning to annoy me for the rest of our lives?”
Max grinned back, a playful gleam in his eyes. “Absolutely. You’ve signed up for it, so no turning back now.”
Everyone laughed, but there was a deep sincerity in the air. This was their moment—imperfect and hurried, but beautiful in its own way.
Tumblr media
3K notes · View notes
aliyahwritings · 4 months ago
Text
ARE YOU JEALOUS?
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Summary: Sassy!Kook!Reader gets jealous when she sees Rafe Cameron close with another girl...
Content: neck sucking (?), childhood friends to lovers, kind of mean!rafe in one scene, bullying lol, suggestive towards the end but just a tiny bit.
Words Count: 5.5k ... i don't know what the fuck happened...
Aliyah's talking: IDK if i fw this or not but i hope yall will lolz <3 Thank you so much for the love on Protective Instincts btw!!!! I am so grateful and surprised that many of you all enjoyed it. Hope u'll enjoy this one too 🩷
Tumblr media
Sunlight streamed into Sarah’s room, casting a soft, golden glow over the space as you lounged on her bed, idly flipping through a magazine. You both were sprawled across the plush, yellow covers, surrounded by half-empty bags of chips and scattered makeup palettes—evidence of an afternoon well spent. Sarah was perched by the vanity, trying on different lip glosses, all of which looked beautiful on her, but she insisted on which one was the best.
“So, tell me again,” she started, holding up a tube of shimmery pink gloss and squinting at it thoughtfully. “Why don’t you go for Jake? I mean, he’s cute, he’s smart—”
“And boring. He is boring,” you interjected, rolling your eyes with a laugh. “Come on, Sarah, you know how I am. I need someone with a little more… edge…? Someone that could handle me but also play the game, you know?”
Sarah smirked, setting the lip gloss down and turning to face you. “Edge… Handling your attitude… I’m afraid that weirdly sounds like someone we both know.”
“You think you’re so funny, huh?” you said, shooting her a mock glare.
She laughed, completely unbothered. "What? I’m just stating the facts!" She shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "As much as I hate to admit it, my brother definitely fits both criteria, so…”
You were listening to her but stopped when your phone buzzed. Out of habit, you unlocked it and opened the notification from Instagram; Topper posted a new story and you watched it. The screen was filled with a shaky video of the beach, the late afternoon sun casting golden light over everything. You recognized some people, but your attention zeroed in on Rafe, right in the center of it all. He was grinning, his arm slung around a girl who was laughing and pulling him closer, like they were the only two people on the beach. 
You felt a quick, unwelcome pang in your chest.
“Hey, what’s got you so interested?” Sarah’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you glanced back at her, masking any hint of emotion with a casual smirk.
You locked the screen and tossed the phone aside. “Nothing. Just Topper’s beach parties and Instagram stories.”
She gave you a skeptical look, folding her arms. “Don’t lie to me. I know you better than yourself, what did you see in that story, Y/N?”
You hesitated, but then shrugged, trying to play it off. “Rafe was at the party with some girl. A new girl. It’s not a big deal.”
“Ah, I see,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “You know he’s always messing around with someone new. But… I thought you didn’t care about what he was up to.”
“I don’t,” you said, a bit too quickly, crossing your arms. “He can do whatever the hell he wants.”
“Right. So, you don’t care at all?”
You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “Look, I just don’t get what’s so special about him that girls keep falling over themselves to be around him. That’s all.”
She nodded with a giggle. “Yeah, no, I definitely—”
“And doesn’t it bother anyone that he’s got a new girl every week? I mean, if I were one of those girls who actually liked him, I’d be furious. Wouldn’t you, Sar?” You barely paused before continuing, not even waiting for her answer. “It’s honestly just sad because Rafe really isn’t even all that. Sure, he can be fun and nice sometimes, but he’s also a huge asshole with a big fucking ego. Is it just me, or is everyone blind to that?”
Sarah was quiet for a moment, studying you with a thoughtful expression before she finally spoke up. “You know what? I think we could both use a break from overthinking anything about the opposite sex. How about we get out of here and grab some smoothies? I heard there’s a new spot by the marina.”
You nodded, grateful that she didn’t talk about your little moment. “Yeah, let’s go.”
Sarah grabbed her bag, giving you one last teasing smile. “Smoothies and maybe some retail therapy afterward?”
“Sounds like a plan,” you replied, letting the idea of a carefree afternoon replace the lingering thoughts of Rafe. Whatever he was up to, it was his business. You weren’t about to let it ruin your day.
Tumblr media
The soft hum of the fridge and the rhythmic clinking of silverware filled the kitchen as you, Sarah, and Rafe gathered around the island, your weekly routine as ingrained as the family photos lining the walls. The night was settling in, casting a cozy stillness over the room. You were only half-listening as Sarah rambled on about her weekend plans, your attention instead focused on pushing pasta around on your plate, not particularly hungry.
Rafe sat across the counter, leaning back in his chair with an ease that always seemed to irritate you. He had been quiet, too but you knew he wouldn’t last long. Sure enough, he broke the silence.
“Alright,” he began, raising an eyebrow at you, “what’s up with you tonight? You’re awfully quiet.”
You didn’t look up, keeping your tone purposefully casual. “Nothing’s up,” you replied, hoping he’d let it go. But you knew better.
“Come on,” he pressed, tilting his head in that infuriatingly smug way. “Where’s that feisty attitude you always have? Usually, by now, you’d have already made at least five smartass comments about my shirt or something.”
You let out a short, unimpressed laugh, finally meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Maybe I just ran out of things to say about you, Rafael. Ever think of that?”
He grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Nah. You’ve got an endless supply of attitude, Y/N. I’d be shocked if you were ever actually out of material.” He took a sip from his glass, watching you over the rim with that familiar, infuriating smirk.
Sarah shot you a look, her mouth twisted in a tired smile as she mouthed, here we go. She had seen this routine a thousand times before.
“You really think I spend that much time thinking about you?” you fired back, folding your arms over your chest and fixing him with an unimpressed stare.
“Oh, I don’t think,” he replied smoothly, leaning in a little closer, “I know. Admit it. I’m in your head, aren’t I?”
You let out an exaggerated sigh, leaning back in your chair as you tossed him an indifferent look. “Right. You’re the center of my world, Rafe. Can’t you tell?”
He chuckled, clearly enjoying this. “You know, when you’re this quiet, it’s like a fucking flashing neon sign saying, ‘Something’s up’. Might as well tell me now.”
You rolled your eyes. You knew that engaging with him like this was a slippery slope—once you started, he never let up. But for some reason, tonight, you couldn’t help yourself.
“Honestly, I don’t have the energy for your little mind games tonight,” you said, trying to sound as bored as possible. “So, if you’re expecting me to entertain you, you’re gonna be disappointed.”
“Oh, come on. I don’t believe that for a second,” he shot back, leaning back casually in his chair as if he had all the time in the world to wear you down. “You love this. Sparring with me? It’s basically your favorite hobby.”
You scoffed, shaking your head. "Didn’t realize my silence was such a tragedy for you.”
“Oh, it is. I mean, where else am I supposed to get my daily dose of attitude?” He leaned back, feigning a pout. “Come on, you’re no fun like this. Did something happen?”
You rolled your eyes, twirling your fork in the pasta as if it held your entire focus. “Why would you care? I’m sure you have more important things to worry about. Maybe more girl—”
Sarah let out a sigh, interrupting before Rafe could respond. “Honestly, do you two ever get tired of this? We’re supposed to be having dinner, and it feels like I’m watching some sort of weird rom-com.”
You shot Sarah an exasperated look. “There’s nothing romantic about this, Sar. It’s called surviving.”
“Right,” Sarah said, clearly unconvinced. “But could you maybe survive without the constant bickering? Just once?”
Rafe smirked, clearly unfazed by Sarah’s comment as he turned back to you. “I don’t know. I think she secretly enjoys it. You should see how she lights up when she gets going.”
“Fuck off,” you muttered, taking a long sip from your glass and hoping it would mask the heat you could feel rising in your cheeks.
He watched you with an amused glint in his eye, clearly picking up on your discomfort. “A little defensive, aren’t we? I mean, I’m just stating the obvious here. You’ve been on edge all night. Care to share with the class what’s really bothering you?”
You set your glass down with a little more force than necessary, fixing him with a glare. “You really think everything’s about you, don’t you?”
“Not everything,” he replied, shrugging casually. “Just the things that involve you. Because, for some reason, every time you’re in a mood, it usually has something to do with me.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but then closed it again, unsure of how to respond without giving anything away. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d hit a nerve, even if he had.
“What’s the matter, princess?” he continued, pushing his plate aside as he leaned forward, his eyes never leaving yours. “Did something happen between you and Jake, huh? I thought you two were casually talk—”
You groaned, frustrated that he’d brought Jake into it. “There’s nothing to say about Jake. I’m just tired, okay? Not everything has to be about some guy.”
“Oh, I’m aware,” Rafe replied, his tone laced with a hint of smugness. “But I’d say you’re a little more…on edge than usual. So, it has to be about that guy, right…”
“Jake’s got nothing to do with this,” you said, your tone steady. “Unlike you, he actually knows how to mind his own business.”
Well, you’re just lying because you’ve never taken the time to actually learn about Jake and what type of person he was. As bitchy as it sounded, you were using him as a distraction.
You stared at him, hoping your silence would be enough to make him drop it. But, of course, he didn’t.
Rafe crossed his arms as he studied you, his gaze never wavering. “So, you’re saying you prefer a guy who lets you get away with whatever you want, then?”
You scoffed. “No, Rafe. I am saying I prefer a guy who doesn’t feel the need to stick his nose into everything I do. You know, a guy who’s secure enough to let me be without constantly needing to provoke me.”
“Yeah, I see,” he replied, nodding softly. “So, basically, you’re looking for someone boring. Someone who doesn’t challenge you, who just lets you coast by. Am I right?”
You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. “You think you know me so well, don’t you? Don’t flatter yourself, Cameron. I can find someone else to annoy me if I really wanted to.”
Rafe’s eyes darkened, but that infuriating smirk stayed in place, like he thrived on every bit of tension between you. He cocked an eyebrow, leaning forward, his voice a low, taunting whisper. “Oh yeah? Who, exactly? Jake? He’s perfect for you—goody-two-shoes, never steps out of the fucking line. Because, let’s be honest, you’d crush him. He’d never call you out, never push you.” He paused, and there was a bitterness beneath his words, hidden but unmistakable. “He’d be safe.”
A bitter smile twisted your lips, the pain creeping into your voice despite your best efforts. “At least Jake knows how to be respectful. He wouldn’t stoop to tearing me down just to get a rise. He wouldn’t need to.”
Rafe scoffed, his amusement tinged with a hint of anger. “Respectful? Fuck that. You want someone to play nice and tell you what you want to hear, go right ahead. But I think we both know that’s not what you really want.” He took a step closer, his gaze fierce, challenging. “You think I’m the bad guy because I’m not afraid to tell you the truth. I don’t play pretend. I’m not here to tell you sweet lies—I’d rather see who you really are, even if that means pissing you off.”
You narrowed your eyes, fury blazing in your chest. He was looking right at you, like he could see through every layer you tried so hard to put up. But there was something deeper in his gaze, a flicker of something that made your heart race even as anger burned within you. And you hated that he could do that—make you feel so exposed, so raw, yet so alive all at once.
But to him, this was just another game. He thrived on your frustration, on the way he could get under your skin with just a few well-placed words. It was a twisted power play, a battle neither of you were willing to lose. And for a moment, the air between you was charged, almost electrifying, the tension so thick it was nearly suffocating. 
You wanted to hate him, but a part of you couldn’t help but wonder if he was right—if he really did see through to the parts of you that no one else dared to touch.
But that only made you angrier, and you felt a surge of resentment rise within you, pushing you over the edge. With a sudden flash of fury, you slammed your fists onto the table, the sound echoing through the room, your voice sharp and cutting. “You know what? Fuck you, Rafe Cameron.”
Without another word, you turned and stormed out.
The sound reverberated through the Cameron household, leaving a heavy silence. Rafe stood there, fists clenched, trying to swallow down the mix of anger and something else—something that felt dangerously close to longing.
Sarah raised an eyebrow at her brother. “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?”
Rafe shot her a look, irritation simmering just beneath the surface. “You don’t get it, Sarah. She’s… She’s infuriating.”
But then he hesitated, his gaze drifting toward the door you had just stormed out of. The edge of his lips twitched in a way that was all too vulnerable, too honest. “But there’s something about her,” he admitted, his voice softening. “She’s fierce and passionate. When she’s angry, it’s like she’s alive in a way I can’t help but be drawn to. It’s frustrating, but… but she’s not afraid to challenge me, to call me out.” He paused, searching for the right words, his heart racing.
“And so that makes it right for you to annoy her to that point?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t help it. I want her to see the real me, too. It’s like I can’t breathe when she’s around and then—when she leaves? It’s like the air just… disappears.” He ran a hand through his hair, a mix of confusion and desire etched across his features. “She challenges me in ways I never expected, and it drives me insane, but I can’t help but want more of her.”
“Wow,” Sarah said softly, her voice full of surprise. “I didn’t think I’d see the day Rafe Cameron talked about someone like this—but mess around with her like that one more time, and I’ll hurt you.”
Tumblr media
The sun spilled into your bedroom, casting a warm glow that felt inviting. But you stirred, still brimming with the tumult of emotions from last night. Rafe’s words echoed in your mind—his teasing, the way he pushed your buttons, and the way your heart raced despite your annoyance. You groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over your head, hoping to drown out the memories.
But then laughter broke through the haze of your thoughts. It was bright and carefree, drifting in through the open window. Intrigued, you tossed off the blanket and slid out of bed, your curiosity piqued. A quick glance outside revealed the source of the joyful sounds: Sarah, Wheezie, and Rafe were out by the pool, splashing water and playfully throwing each other around.
Rafe, wearing nothing but swim trunks that hung low on his hips, was the centerpiece of the scene, effortlessly drawing your gaze. His tanned skin glimmered, accentuating the muscles that rippled as he dove and surfaced in the water, laughter spilling from his lips, infectious and buoyant.
You caught yourself ogling him, eyes roaming over the way the water dripped from his hair, the way his body moved with ease and confidence. It wasn’t fair, really—how could someone be so effortlessly captivating? The sun caught the edges of his grin as he tossed Wheezie playfully into the pool, the sound of her laughter ringing out like music.
You were lost in the moment, so caught up in the heat of his gaze that you didn’t even notice the way your thighs clenched together, craving the contact that felt just out of reach. All you could think about was the overwhelming desire to touch him—everywhere. You imagined your hands gliding over his toned chest, feeling the hard flex of his biceps beneath your fingertips, tracing the lines of his powerful arms as they wrapped around your body, waist, and ass pulling you closer.
You wanted him. God, did you want him.
Why did he have this effect on you? Why was he constantly invading your thoughts, even now?
A sudden buzz from your phone pulled you from your reverie. You grabbed it from the bedside table and saw a message from Sarah: “Get your ass out here! We’re in the pool, it’s fun! You’ll want to join us!”
A smile tugged at your lips at Sarah's enthusiasm, but a moment of hesitation passed as you remembered the tension of last night. Still, you didn’t want to be the odd one out. With a determined sigh, you pulled yourself away from the window and began to get ready.
You rummaged through your drawers, searching for that one bikini that made you look stunning and earned you a handful of compliments every time you wore it. Finally, you found it: a deep emerald green that contrasted perfectly against your skin tone. It was cut high, accentuating your legs, the top was daring, showing just enough to leave to the imagination. You paired it with a pair of denim shorts.
You headed towards the back door, nerves swirling in your stomach. As you stepped outside, the head of the sun hit you like a wave, and the sounds of laughter grew louder.
“You’re awake!” Sarah exclaimed, her voice bright and cheerful. “I thought we’d have to drag you out here!”
You laughed lightly, feeling a playful energy surge within you. “I’m here, aren’t I?” You shot back, trying to keep your tone light as you made your way toward the pool.
Wheezie exclaimed, eyes wide of admiration. “Wow, Y/N! Look at you!”
“Thanks!” you replied, trying to play it cool but secretly loving the attention. You glanced at Rafe, who had turned to face you, and your heart raced at the sight of him leaning against the pool’s edge, water cascading down his toned body.
His gaze lingered on you, a mix of surprise and appreciation playing across his features. “Well, well, if it isn’t the queen herself,” he teased, that infuriating smirk stretching across his face. “Nice of you to join us.”
You rolled your eyes and turned your back to him, feigning indifference as you busied yourself with anything but him. The events of last night were still fresh in your mind, a heated clash that left you reeling and more than a little irritated. You were determined not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
“Oh, so I get the silent treatment?” he drawled, his voice dripping with playful disbelief. “I’m devastated,” he added, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that infuriatingly irresistible smirk that always made your heart flutter.
Instead, you focused on Sarah and Wheezie, who were gleefully splashing water at each other. You couldn’t help but feel the pull of their energy. 
Hours rolled by and you settled onto a lounge chair, you could feel Rafe’s eyes on you, the heat of his gaze igniting your skin in a way that both thrilled and annoyed you. He was still in the pool, looking at you like he wanted to eat you alive. You didn’t know but you were driving him crazy with that attitude of yours, this whole ignoring thing and your fucking bikini. 
Sarah and Wheezie went inside the house to prepare some snacks and drinks for us because we were getting hungry and thirsty, leaving only Rafe and you. 
You pulled your phone, pretending to scroll through social media, anything to distract yourself from the way your heart raced at his presence. A notification lit up your phone, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw Jake’s name flash across the screen. The excitement surged through you as you opened the message:
"Hey, gorgeous. I really like you, and I’d love to take you out sometime. You in?"
He was cute—way too cute.
A grin crept onto your lips, and for once, you allowed yourself to enjoy the attention from someone who wasn’t toying with your emotions. Someone who actually seemed genuine. No games, no mixed signals. Just interest. The kind that felt refreshing after dealing with someone who never seemed to know what he wanted.
You barely had time to revel in it before Rafe’s voice cut through the moment, sharp and demanding. “What’s got you smiling like that?”
Your grip tightened on your phone instinctively, and you flicked your gaze up to him, feigning nonchalance. “Oh, nothing. Just a friend,” you said, slipping your phone screen down against your thigh.
Rafe wasn’t buying it. His eyes narrowed, skepticism written all over his face. “Just a friend, huh?” His voice had that dangerous edge to it, the one you knew too well. “Funny, you don’t usually smile like that over friends.”
You felt his eyes burning into you, but you refused to give him the satisfaction. “Really? Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” you teased, biting back the smirk threatening to break free.
Rafe’s jaw clenched. “Who was it?”
“Like I said, just a friend,” you repeated, your voice smooth, but now you were teasing on purpose. You could feel his irritation rising, and part of you enjoyed it. “What, are you jealous or something?”
He scoffed, though you didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened. “Why the hell would I be jealous?” he snapped, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than you. “I’m just asking a question.”
“Uh-huh.” You raised an eyebrow, leaning back and tilting your head, watching him closely. “Right. Just a casual question, huh? Totally doesn’t sound like someone’s jealous.”
His hands were now resting on the edge of the pool, gripping it just a little too tightly. “I’m not jealous,” he repeated, but the way his gaze darted to your phone said otherwise. “But if it’s someone trying to get at you, then yeah, I wanna know. Who is it?”
“Someone,” you said vaguely, enjoying the fact that Rafe was teetering on the edge of losing it. “Someone who’s interested, clearly.”
Rafe’s eyes flared, and the jealousy in his voice became impossible to miss. “Interested in what? You?” His lips curled into a scowl, his muscles tense. “What, you think some random guy’s gonna—”
“Maybe,” you cut in, your smile growing. “Maybe he’s actually straightforward, you know? No mind games, no drama. Just a guy who knows what he wants.”
His brows shot up, the implication stinging. “And you think I don’t know what I want?”
You shrugged, not backing down an inch. “Well, you never seem to make it that clear. Maybe someone else is going to take your place as my—”
The possessiveness in his eyes flared. He pushed himself up out of the pool, water dripping from his shoulders as he moved closer, his presence looming over you. “No one’s stepping up, got it? No one’s taking my place.”
You met his gaze, unflinching, even as your heart raced a little faster. “Oh? And what exactly is your place, Rafe?”
He leaned in, the heat between you practically crackling. “You know damn well where my place is,” he murmured, his voice low, daring, yet with a hint of uncertainty creeping in. “And I’m not about to let some bitch ass slide in because you think I don’t care.”
You smiled, tilting your head, savoring the tension. “Seems like you do care. Maybe more than you want to admit.”
“Because I do care, Y/N,” he murmured softly, swiping his wet thumb across your cheek. “I told you already that I cared way too damn much.”
Rafe’s thumb lingered on your cheek, the warmth of his touch sending shivers through your body despite the heat of the day. His eyes held yours, dark and intense, as if he were trying to convey all the words he couldn’t quite say aloud. The air between you was thick, charged with a tension that had been building for far too long.
You swallowed hard, trying to hold onto some semblance of control, but it was a losing battle. “Your way of showing it is fucked, Rafe.”
Your words were meant to cut, but they came out softer than you intended, almost like a challenge. His jaw tightened, but instead of snapping back with some cocky retort, he stepped even closer. The scent of chlorine and his skin invaded your senses, and you couldn’t help but notice how his muscles tensed as he towered over you, dripping with water, his presence commanding.
“I care,” he repeated, his voice lower now, almost a growl. His eyes flicked down to your lips and back to your eyes, like he was making a decision in real time. “I care more than you know.”
Before you could muster a reply, his hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you just a little closer, your breath hitching as his lips hovered near your ear. “I think you know exactly what my place is,” he murmured, his voice rough with unspoken desire. “And you’re not running from it.”
His breath was hot against your skin, sending a wave of heat cascading down your spine. He didn’t move right away, as if savoring the tension that crackled between you, the nearness, the inevitability of it all. Your heart pounded in your chest, your pulse quickening as his lips brushed, ever so lightly, against the sensitive spot just below your ear.
You gasped, your hands instinctively gripping the fabric of your shorts as your body reacted to him, heat pooling low in your belly. “Rafe…” you whispered, not quite a protest, but not quite giving in either.
But he wasn’t about to back down now. He shifted closer, his mouth grazing the curve of your neck, soft at first, then firmer, the scrape of his teeth making your pulse race. Your skin ignited under his touch, and a low moan escaped your lips before you could stop it.
“You feel that?” he whispered, his lips trailing lower, his voice husky and thick with need. “That’s not some game. That’s real.”
Your body arched toward him of its own accord, your resistance melting as his hands slid down to your waist, fingers pressing firmly into your skin, pulling you closer. You could feel the heat of his breath on your neck, his lips teasing, torturing, as they brushed along your collarbone. Every touch, every whisper was setting your nerves alight, and you were dizzy with the intensity of it.
“You’re such an ass,” you muttered, trying to keep a shred of control, but your voice lacked conviction.
He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin. “Maybe,” he agreed, his lips brushing the spot just beneath your ear again, sending a fresh wave of shivers down your spine. “But you can’t stop thinking about me, can you?”
You hated how right he was. You hated how easily he could unravel you, how even now, you were leaning into his touch, craving more of it. But there was no way you were giving him the satisfaction of hearing it.
“Stop being so cocky,” you managed to whisper, though your voice wavered with the desire that coursed through you.
But Rafe wasn’t in the mood to stop. His hand slid to your lower back, pulling your body flush against his, the coolness of his skin mingling with your own heat. You could feel the hard lines of his body pressed against yours, his chest rising and falling as his lips grazed your shoulder, his teeth scraping lightly against your skin, just enough to make you shudder.
“Admit it,” he murmured against your neck, his voice a deep, rough command. “You want this.”
You closed your eyes, fighting to hold onto your last thread of self-control, but the tension between you was overwhelming, suffocating. His lips moved lower, placing slow, deliberate kisses along your collarbone, each one leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Your breath came in ragged gasps as your body betrayed you, leaning into him, craving the heat of his touch, the weight of his gaze, the way he made you feel like the only person in the world.
“Rafe…” you breathed, your voice barely audible, as his hand slid down to your hip, his fingers digging into your skin possessively. You could feel his breath on your neck, his lips hovering just above the place where your pulse raced beneath the surface.
“I want you, Y/N,” he whispered against your skin, his voice raw, filled with the desire that had been simmering between you for what felt like forever. “And I’m not letting anyone else have you.”
His words sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could think better of it, your hands were in his hair, pulling him closer, your body aching for the contact you’d been denying yourself for so long.
Your lips collided with his in a heated rush, all the pent-up tension and desire finally unraveling between you. Rafe’s hands immediately gripped your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as he kissed you like he’d been waiting for this moment forever. His lips were demanding, rough and hungry, but there was a softness to the way he held you, like he wanted to savor every second. You melted into him, fingers tangling in his wet hair, feeling the slickness of the pool water on his skin as his body pressed against yours.
The taste of him, mixed with the faint tang of chlorine, was intoxicating. It was all-consuming, drowning out every rational thought. He kissed you like he was staking his claim, like he wanted to erase any trace of doubt from your mind, and for a moment, you let him. Your body responded instinctively, arching against his as his hands roamed down your back, gripping you tighter.
When you finally broke apart, both of you gasping for air, Rafe’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes dark with desire and something deeper—something more vulnerable. His chest heaved as he looked at you, his breath coming in ragged bursts. “I like you, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “I like you so much it drives me crazy. No more pretending.”
You stared into his eyes, searching for any hint of the cocky facade he usually wore, but it was gone. This was Rafe stripped bare, no teasing, no arrogance—just raw honesty. It made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the kiss.
Your breath caught in your throat as you considered what he was saying. Could you trust him? Could you really let your guard down and give in to this, knowing how easily he could hurt you?
But before you could overthink it, he kissed you again, slower this time, more deliberate. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache, and all your doubts melted away. At that moment, it didn’t matter what had happened before, or what might happen after. All that mattered was how he made you feel right now—wanted, desired, seen.
Rafe pulled back, his thumb brushing gently against your bottom lip, his eyes flicking between yours. “Tell me you feel it too,” he whispered, his voice rough, almost pleading. “Tell me I’m not the only one. Tell me, princess.”
You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest. There was no point in pretending anymore. “You’re not,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “You drive me crazy, Rafe, too—I don’t want to feel this way, but I do.”
His lips curved into a small, triumphant smile, but there was relief in his eyes too, like he’d been holding his breath, waiting for you to say it. “Good,” he murmured, his hand cupping your face as his thumb stroked your cheek. “Because I don’t think I can let you go.”
Tumblr media
3K notes · View notes
luveline · 9 months ago
Note
I wanted to know how Aaron Hotchner would react to discovering the existence of a daughter (something from college perhaps), she would be his copy both in appearance and personality
—Hotch has a surprise visitor and the world spins on a new axis. daughter!reader, 2.2k
readers physical traits like hair and skin colour are not mentioned, but she is described as looking like her mother (also not described) and as sharing some characteristics with Hotch!<3 I also altered canon so that Hotch and Haley take a break at college 
“There is a kid in your office.” 
“Morgan?” 
Hotch pulls his phone away to check. D. Morgan blinks on his phone screen. It’s a slightly absurd sentence. 
“There’s a child in my office?” he asks, returning the phone to his ear. 
“I’m standing with her right now. She won’t tell me who she is. Anderson let her in.” 
“How old?” Hotch asks, scratching his cheek. God forbid he steal two minutes of peace in the bathroom. 
“How old are you, sweetheart?”
“I’m twenty two,” a feminine voice says. 
“You said kid,” Hotch says, frowning. 
“Anyone under twenty five is a kid to me. Are you on your way?” 
He sighs. “Yeah,” he says, and hangs up, dropping the small body of his phone into his pocket. Twenty two isn’t a kid, it’s a year younger than Spencer was when he started at the BAU; Hotch doesn’t underestimate the intelligence of young adults. Why you’re in his office is another thing. He can’t have one day without inconvenience. 
Hotch makes his way into the BAU office and up the stairs to the half level where his own office resides. Morgan leans against the door with his arms crossed, standing to attention when Hotch passes. 
“Thanks, Morgan,” Hotch says. 
Morgan nods, sending a curious gaze at you before he leaves. 
You’re dressed very formally for someone your age, but it’s not as though this is different from the norm of the building. You have on a dark shirt with a starched collar and a fitted blazer, a crisp skirt, and leather Mary Jane heels, one pressed flat to the back of the other. 
You stand when he comes in. 
“Mr. Hotchner?” you ask. 
“Yes?” he asks. 
You have a small file in your hand. Paper with worn edges pokes out of one side as though you’d been looking through it and put it hastily away, and the Manila file itself is fresh.
“Do we know one another?” he asks. 
You look familiar. It’s possible he would’ve known your parents —it could make sense. A colleague or acquaintance assumed he could help you with something, and you in your naivety you made your way in. 
“I think you know my mother.” 
“And she was?” he prompts. Not impolite, but needing to move forward. He’s very busy. 
You take a small step back. “Mr. Hotchner,” you say again, something nervous in your eyes as you lift your chin, “I don’t want to waste your time. I’m aware I might sound foolish, or that this… might not be something you want to hear, but. My mother told me you met in college, and that…” 
You bite your lip. 
He’s incredibly confused now. Not one to let a stranger suffer whether in real pain or awkwardness, he opens his hand. “Can I?” 
“Yes, sir,” you say.
You don’t want to pass it over, but you do as he’s asked. 
The photograph is a shock, held with a paperclip to a magnolia sheet of paper. It’s of Hotch, undoubtedly, a much younger Hotch sitting on a bench with a woman he recognises immediately. He only looks at her, and he knows why you’re here, and he knows exactly what you’re thinking. 
“Do you remember her?” you ask quietly.
He doesn’t answer.
“She says you’re the only man that could… possibly be my father.” You hold your hands behind your back. 
He lifts the photograph. There’s not much else to look at, only your photo ID, your birth certificate where he is glaringly not listed, as well as your mother’s birth certificate, and proof of her enrollment at George Washington University. 
You look a little teary. Trying very hard to be sober, as you have been since he laid eyes on you, but clearly getting more and more upset as time goes on. He’s feeling a similar ache, a searing pain in his chest, staring at you from over the Manila folder to really, really look at you. He swears he can see something of himself in your face, though he’s not sure what. Perhaps it’s wishful thinking. 
There’s certainly some of him in your frown. 
“I think you should sit down,” he says softly. 
You sit down immediately in the chair you’d inhabited a few minutes ago. 
He’s not sure what to say. Are you sure it could only be him? Is your mother? But you’re looking at him with an expression he practically trademarked, whether he wanted to or not, and the proof is in his hands: you’re your mother’s daughter, and Hotch would have slept with her almost twenty three years ago. He doesn’t need much time to do the math. 
“I realise my word alone isn’t a lot to go on, sir, so– so if you’d want to, I’ll of course submit for a paternity test. Or if you want nothing to do with me, that’s okay too.” 
“It’s not okay,” he says, closing your folder. 
Your eyes widen just a touch. 
“Can I sit with you?” he asks. 
You push your chair back to make lots of room. He sits in the chair besides yours, cautious that being across a desk from you is insensitive, or cold, at least. 
He looks at you and he’s sure that you’re his. The longer you sit there, the more sure he becomes.
“I do want a paternity test,” he says, watching your tight nod. 
He believes you. And truly, if he was unsure of what you’re saying he’d still give you grace now, because the first time you meet your father should be full of love. He should’ve been there to hold you in one arm twenty two years ago, he should’ve been there for you through everything he’s already missed. 
“But I believe you,” he says.
“You do?” 
“I’m a very good judge of character. I know that you believe what you’re telling me completely,” he says.
“How?”
“When you’re nervous your hand drifts to your chest, but you didn’t move when you suggested I’m your father. You haven’t once checked the door or looked toward the camera in the corner of the room.” And the full truth. “I want to believe you.” 
“Why?” you ask.
“You look like your mother, but…” He lets himself smile. “You sound like me.” 
You laugh under your breath. “Hopefully not so deep.” 
“I’ve had it described to me as mellifluous.” 
“I’ve wanted to hear your voice since I can remember. My mom didn’t talk about you much, but I’ve always wondered. She told me she didn’t know who you were, and…”
“And you believed her. Any child would do the same.” 
“She’s made mistakes.” You look to him with eyebrows gently pinched, asking him to understand. “But I looked you up. When she told me your name, I looked for you online, and… I always thought I never needed you, even if I wanted to know you. I thought you might want to know me. I thought that a man like you would want to know.”
There’s something you’re not saying. Hotch doesn’t mind. “Of course I want to know you.” 
You chance a smile at him. “You really believe me?” 
“You were expecting me to turn you away.” 
“No, just– I’m not a kid, even if your colleague said so. And I’m not an image of you, I don’t have your eyes. All I have is that photograph. There's not much evidence to go on.” 
He sees no reason why a young girl like you would walk into his office and tell him who you are. Self preservation insists on a paternity test, and soon —UnSubs haven’t ever done something so conniving as imitating a family member yet, but there’s no prediction for evil— but Hotch has an inherent sense of the truth.  
“What do you do?” he asks. 
You frown. “Sorry?” 
“What do you do?” he asks again, “You’re dressed like a lawyer.” 
You nod with a smile you’re pushing into a flat line unsuccessfully. “I’m at GWU. For law, like you and my mom.” 
“She only just told you who I am?” He speaks each word carefully. 
“The photo fell out of an old album, and I had a funny feeling. I asked her about it and she said I’m too much like you. She admitted it like the secret had been eating her alive.” You look at your hand on the armrest. “We aren’t getting along right now.” 
“I don’t know why she wouldn’t tell you. Or me,” he says honestly. 
“I don’t know either.” 
Hotch is expecting a lot more awkwardness than he feels as he puts his hand over yours. You stay very still. 
“Thank you for coming here today.” He gives your hand the barest squeeze and stands. “Have you eaten? I could take you out for dinner,” he suggests. 
You stand with him. “Are you serious?” you ask, gentle and pleased at once. 
“I think you have a lot to tell me, and I’d love to listen.” 
“You’re not working?” 
Sometimes, sometimes, there are things that can be worked around or held on the back burner. You and Hotch go for lunch. 
Aaron Hotchner knows many important people. Your paternity test takes a day, less than twenty four hours from the time you both submit samples, but you have a class you can’t miss and he’s sure you’re nervous, so you don’t meet again for two days regardless. By then, you both know the results. (And Aaron’s had to have a very strange conversation with his wife, in which she doesn’t believe him, and then has to sit down.) 
He can admit to being far more protective of you once he knows the truth for sure, though he knows it before the results come back. You’re his daughter, and he’s left you without a father for two decades of your life, your formative years, time he can never get back. 
He doesn’t even know what to do. How can he make up for it? Twenty two years of birthday cards? He feels like buying you a diamond necklace with a stone for each year, and then he wants to buy you a house, but mostly he wants to give you a hug. He thinks about it for so long the morning before he’s scheduled to meet you again that it makes him as upset as he’s ever been in his life, desperate to say sorry to you and your mother and furious with her for keeping you a secret. 
He thinks of all those years without an inkling of your existence, and now you’re the only thing he can think about. His remorse makes him sick. 
You’re smiling when you see him. For a millisecond, you look like Jack. 
“Hi, Mr. Hotchner!” you say, standing from the table, your formal dress and cardigan pressed neatly, your hands held behind your back.
‘Mr. Hotchner’ will need to be fixed quickly, though he won’t force you to call him anything else. He can’t help himself, however.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he says softly. 
You pause, and you laugh. “This is weird.” 
He doesn’t mean to make it weirder, but he opens his arms, and he waits for an indication that you might not want a hug before he leans in to hold you. You’re still so young. There’s still time for him to be a good father to you. 
He can’t say everything he needs to in his hug, and at the end of the day he’s a stranger to you; you probably don’t want him to hug you for too long. But he rubs your back, and he promises himself that he won’t let you down twice.
Your arm curls tentatively behind his back. For a second, you press your face to his shoulder and breathe. 
“Are you okay?” he asks, pulling away. 
Your lip twitches to one side like his would when presented with such heavy sincerity. “I’m okay. How did, um, Haley take the news?” 
“She just wants to meet you, okay? You’re part of my family now.” 
You give no indication you’ve heard what it is he’s saying to you, or whether you like it as you sit down at the dinner table. He quite likes that some way, somehow, you’ve become like him, but he wonders if he might not love it so much when he asks how your mom is taking this new development and you just smile. 
“We’re going to tell Jack about everything this weekend,” he adds. “He’ll be excited, if no one else.” 
“And Haley doesn’t mind?” 
“She’s not going to ask you to babysit anytime soon, honey, but no, of course she doesn’t. He should meet his sister before she’s too old for legos.” 
You actually laugh. 
Dad humour transcends age, and for that, Hotch is grateful. 
only after I finished did I wonder if I misinterpreted the request and this was supposed to be x reader with a shared daughter so if that’s the case I’m sorry original requester!! and I can totally write that if that’s what you meant 🫶❤️
3K notes · View notes
jxwl4k · 23 days ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ baby fever .𖥔 ݁ ˖
Tumblr media
☘︎ . . . genre. fluff
☘︎ . . . pairings. bakugou x fem!reader
⤿ after babysitting eri, bakugou develops unexpected baby fever, leading to sweet and heartfelt moments with yn as he imagines future with her.
⋆˚✿˖° j speaking . . .
- I got inspired by @sweeturavity story that is also called baby fever. I hope you don’t mind, I can take it down if you want to!
Tumblr media Tumblr media
It wasn’t something Bakugou ever expected to feel. The mighty future Number One Hero, Katsuki Bakugou, did not get distracted by the thought of tiny humans with chubby cheeks and big eyes. Or so he told himself.
But lately, it had been hard to ignore.
It all started when he babysat Eri for an afternoon while Aizawa had an emergency. Bakugou was initially hesitant—kids were loud, sticky, and unpredictable. But when Eri reached out her small hand to hold his and gave him a shy smile, something in his chest did a funny flip. She had fallen asleep on his lap while watching cartoons, and Bakugou couldn’t stop staring at her peaceful face.
From then on, Bakugou started noticing babies and kids everywhere. During a trip to the mall with his friends, a toddler waddling around in a dinosaur onesie caught his eye. At a park nearby, a dad was teaching his little boy how to kick a ball, and Bakugou found himself watching longer than necessary.
He was annoyed with himself. He was Katsuki Bakugou. He didn’t have time to think about babies. But the thought of a tiny hand gripping his finger wouldn’t leave his head.
And then there was YN.
YN had always been the calm to his storm, the quiet presence that softened his sharp edges. She had a way of making him feel seen, understood, even when he didn’t say much. They weren’t officially a couple—yet. But Bakugou was sure she felt the same way he did.
Today, Bakugou found himself sitting on the couch in the dorm common area, scrolling through his phone. He wasn’t looking at training videos or hero interviews. No, he was watching videos of babies giggling at their parents’ silly antics.
“You okay, Katsuki?”
He nearly dropped his phone at the sound of YN’s voice. She was standing behind him, her head tilted in curiosity.
“Tch. What do you want?” he muttered, locking his phone quickly.
YN walked around the couch and sat beside him, her soft smile disarming him as always. “You’ve been acting weird lately,” she said, resting her chin on her hand. “Are you sure everything’s fine?”
“I’m fine,” he snapped, but the blush creeping up his neck betrayed him.
Her gaze drifted to his phone, which was still unlocked on the home screen. “Were you watching baby videos?”
Bakugou froze. “No!” he barked, his face going red.
YN’s laugh was light and sweet. “It’s okay, you know. Babies are adorable.”
“I wasn’t—ugh, fine!” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, okay? Ever since I babysat Eri, I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“About what?” YN asked gently.
“About… having a kid. Someday,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. He refused to meet her eyes, staring instead at the coffee table. “It’s stupid, isn’t it? I’m too busy trying to be a hero to think about crap like that.”
YN’s heart softened at his vulnerable confession. She placed a hand on his arm, and he finally looked at her. “It’s not stupid,” she said softly. “It just shows you have a big heart. You’d make a great dad one day, Katsuki.”
He blinked, startled by her words. “You think so?”
She nodded. “You’re tough, but you care deeply. You’re protective and hardworking. Any kid would be lucky to have you as their parent.”
For the first time, Bakugou felt a weight lift off his chest. He allowed a small smile to tug at his lips. “You’d make a pretty great mom too, you know.”
YN’s cheeks turned pink, and she looked away, flustered. “Oh, um… thanks.”
Bakugou smirked at her reaction, feeling a rare sense of peace. Maybe one day, when they were both ready, they could tackle the adventure of parenthood together.
For now, he was content knowing he wasn’t alone in his thoughts—and that maybe, just maybe, his future wasn’t so far out of reach after all.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
augustinewrites · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
“what’s on these?” megumi asks, holding up a box of memory cards.
cleaning day always unearthed all types of lost and forgotten items. sometimes it was clothes long forgotten in you and gojo’s closet, other times it was the kid’s old books or toys. you knew every inch of your little apartment, so most times you could identify any mystery items that came up.
“i don’t know,” you hum, plucking a card from the box to inspect it a little more closely. the only hint as to what’s actually on it seems to just be a date.
2006
…and it’s in gojo’s handwriting.
curious, you pop one into the video player and turn on the tv. the kids join you on the couch, clearly eager to entertain any distraction from your cleaning crusade.
when the screen flickers to life, a familiar courtyard comes into view.
you can’t help the gasp when haibara comes into focus…but then you see satoru standing standing across from him, arms spread out.
“who is that?” megumi asks, pointing at haibara.
you think of the bright smile of the boy still lingering in the edges of your memory and tell him, softly, “an old friend.”
“suguru!” gojo shouts, looking towards the person holding the camera. he’s all messy hair and wide smiles, exactly how you remember him in his youth. “make sure you get this one!”
geto grumbles about how he’s paying attention, and suddenly you remember exactly what this is.
“ah, these are from when yaga would make us record ourselves practicing cursed technique application,” you explain as a haibara lines up a shot with a pencil.
the pencil hits gojo in the face, gifting him a small cut on his cheek. “ah, shit!”
behind the camera you can hear nanami and geto laughing as haibara apologizes profusely, and shoko comes over to practice her healing. you come over too, holding a cloth.
“don’t pout,” your younger self says, reaching up to wipe a thin trail of blood from his cheek. “you’ll get it next time.”
as soon you turn away, you hear geto snicker and the camera suddenly zooms in on gojo’s face.
he’s blushing.
“ugh,” you hear him groan behind the three of you, finally finished cleaning the bathroom. “are we done cleaning yet?”
“we’re taking a break!” tsumiki tells him, as megumi pops another card in.
gojo ignores megumi’s protests, stealing the spot on the couch next to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders with a smirk. “move your feet, lose your seat.”
tsumiki, angel that she is, moves over so her brother can sit on your other side as the video starts.
this time, gojo is the one recording, holding the camera out so it’s pointed at his own smiling face. “haibara versus nanami, round one!”
you feel your boyfriend stiffen beside you, looking over to see an odd look on his face. “oh, fuck—”
“jar,” megumi says flatly.
he glares at the kid, and is about to get up when you stop him. “wait! i want to watch this!”
he slumps back, throwing an arm over his eyes as he groans dramatically. ignoring him, you watch the fight play out, which ends with haibara whining whilst in a headlock.
you hear geto’s murmured commentary off camera as nanami releases his classmate, expecting the video to zoom in on the victor.
but it drifts a little to the left, where you’re laughing with shoko on the sidelines.
“so obvious,” geto scoffs. the video wobbles for a moment before being pointed directly at the tips of satoru’s shoes, then ends abruptly.
when you glance over at satoru, he’s pulled his sunglasses over his eyes as if they can hide his pink cheeks.
the next videos are similar. memories of your past viewed through a different lens, showing you things you’d never picked up on when you were living them.
some moments you watch with an aching heart. like when suguru leans close to you and makes a joke at satoru’s expense, or when you reach up to ruffle haibara’s hair.
(moments with cherished friends proving that the grief of losing them never got any lighter as you moved forward with your life, but at some point you’d just gotten used to carrying the weight.)
but what might be most interesting is seeing yourself in satoru’s eyes.
his focus, whether he was the one holding the camera or not, always seemed to drift to you. for all the times he’d denied crushing on you in your early years, the camera proves otherwise.
the way he peeks at you shyly as you fix your hair before a fight.
the way he reaches out instinctively whenever you’re knocked backwards.
the way he smiles brightly whenever you laugh at one of his jokes.
the way your gaze would occasionally meet his, and his smile seemed to come naturally.
“okay, that’s enough for tonight,” satoru announces, shutting the tv off and shooing the children away. “go clean your rooms, you freeloaders.”
you stand, looping your arms around his neck before he can run away. smiling, you gently pull his glasses off, tossing them onto the couch.
“hey! those are gucci—”
you shut him up with a kiss, feeling the way his lips curve upwards against yours. “i love you, you know that?”
blue eyes meet yours, the pensive look he’d been wearing melting into something a little softer. something reserved for you. “you’re obsessed with me, i know.”
you simply laugh, letting him dip down to give you another kiss.
(because you’d had his heart in your pocket long before either of you had realized.)
10K notes · View notes
theonottsbxtch · 3 months ago
Text
MISS YOU BABY | MV1
an: i need a hug from max verstappen stat, based off this request! thank you for sending it :)
summary: max thought his girlfriend was missing his final race during his triple header, little did he know she'd planned to come and visit all along.
wc 3.6k
Tumblr media
The hotel room she was in was quiet.
She sat cross-legged on the bed in a dark hotel room that mirrored his, only three floors below, making sure he couldn’t see her surroundings. Her phone was propped up against a pillow, and Max’s face filled the screen, his hair still damp from the shower, tousled and messy. He looked worn-out but managed a small, tired smile just for her.
"I’m sorry, Max. I really tried to get time off, but there was just… no way," she said, the fib slipping from her lips with surprising ease. "I wanted to be there with you. Especially now."
Max exhaled, leaning back against his headboard. “I know. It’s alright.” His voice softened. “I just miss you, is all. It’s been a rough couple of weeks.”
She nodded, biting the inside of her cheek, wishing she could reach through the screen and wrap her arms around him. "You’ll get through it, though. You always do."
"Doesn’t feel that way." He laughed, but it was brittle around the edges. “I feel like I’m letting everyone down. The team, the fans… you.” His eyes searched the screen, as if he might find a solution hidden somewhere in her gaze.
"Never me." She leaned closer, her face so near to the camera that she could see her reflection in his eyes. "I’m so proud of you, Max. Always. No matter what."
For a moment, he just looked at her, his expression softening, and the tension she’d seen in his face for days seemed to melt, just a little. "I wish you were here," he murmured. "I swear, you’re the only thing that keeps me sane sometimes."
She swallowed, feeling her heart pull toward him with a force that was hard to resist. "Soon, I’ll be back with you. Just… hold on a bit longer, okay?”
She gazed at his face on the screen, her heart swelling as she watched the way his eyes softened every time he looked at her. She knew he was tired and worn down, but in this moment, he looked at peace.
"I love you, Max," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.
He closed his eyes, letting the words wash over him, and when he opened them again, there was a warmth there that seemed to cut through the miles between them. "I love you, too," he replied, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "More than you know."
She tucked her hair behind her ear, feeling her cheeks flush, and nodded. "Get some sleep, alright? Big day tomorrow."
He grinned. "Yeah, yeah. You, too. Dream about me, okay?"
She laughed, rolling her eyes, but her heart skipped all the same. "Always. Goodnight, Max."
"Goodnight, love."
With a final smile, she ended the call, letting the screen go dark as she leaned back into the pillows, her heart fluttering with anticipation. She’d hardly been able to sleep on the plane ride here, and she could already tell tonight would be the same.
Still, the thought of finally seeing him in person tomorrow kept her too giddy to care. She’d surprise him at the track, slipping through the garage just as he arrived, or maybe even at breakfast if she could manage it without spoiling the surprise. Her mind spun with ideas, each more elaborate than the last, but all she really wanted was to see his face light up when he realised she was there.
Pulling the covers up to her chin, she let her eyes drift closed, replaying the moment over and over in her mind, savouring the thought of his reaction. She loved him fiercely, and she knew that being here—no matter how much of a secret she’d had to make it—was exactly where she was supposed to be.
As she finally began to drift off, her last thought was simple but bright, shining like a promise: Tomorrow, he’ll know.
And while she was glad she held onto the secret.
The following morning she wished she’d told him earlier.
She woke to the faint glow of her phone on the nightstand, her morning alarm. Blinking herself awake, she squinted at the screen and saw Max’s name, followed by the time—5:02 a.m.
Heading to the track early today. Miss you already, wish you were here.
She smiled, feeling that familiar warmth spreading through her chest. But then her heart sank a little. She’d been hoping to catch him in the hotel this morning, maybe surprise him over breakfast. Now, with him already gone, she'd have to adjust her plans.
Throwing back the covers, she got up and went to the window. Rain streaked down the glass in thick, heavy drops, and the sky was a murky grey. The weather was only supposed to get worse throughout the day; she knew that’d make things complicated, especially for an outdoor track. She had no clue if her surprise would even be worth the stress of navigating the drenched, crowded paddock.
After a moment’s hesitation, she tapped her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she reached the name she wanted. She dialled, and after a few rings, Max’s assistant, Sophie, picked up.
“Hey!” Sophie greeted, sounding pleasantly surprised. “What’s up? Did you make it in?”
“Yes, I’m here!” she whispered, unable to contain her excitement. “I wanted to surprise him before he heads out on track, but with this rain… do you think I should even bother?”
Sophie sighed sympathetically. “Honestly, it’s a mess out here. They’re saying the rain’s going to be even heavier by the time qualifying starts. He’ll be in back-to-back meetings until then, and I’d hate for you to sit in the rain, just to get a few minutes with him.”
She nodded, glancing out the window at the sheets of rain. “So you think I should wait?”
“I’d say hold off until right before the race,” Sophie replied. “He’ll have a short break, and I think he’d love the surprise then. Plus, everyone’s less frantic between qualifying and race prep.”
“Good point,” she agreed, a little disappointed but knowing Sophie was right. The track on a rainy race day was chaos, and if she could avoid it until the right moment, she’d have a better chance of actually spending time with him. “Thanks, Sophie. Let me know if anything changes?”
“Will do! He’ll be so happy to see you,” Sophie said warmly. “Hang tight, okay?”
As she hung up, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement, knowing the surprise would be even more perfect with the wait. So she ordered herself a coffee, sat by the window, and watched the rain pour down, imagining the look on Max’s face when he’d finally see her just before the most important race of the weekend.
The rain hadn’t let up by the time she arrived at the track, the skies dark and moody, the air thick with humidity. She’d navigated her way through security and weaving lines of drenched fans, her heart racing as she got closer to Max’s garage. But by the time she finally made it, he was already in the car, helmet on, visor down, his focus entirely on the track ahead.
Her heart sank a little as she scanned the bustling garage, hoping for some last chance to catch his eye. But he was already strapped in, a crew member leaning in to give him a final check before he rolled out. She spotted Sophie in the corner, scribbling something down on a clipboard, and made her way over to her.
“Hey,” she whispered, feeling the dampness of the rain still clinging to her hair and clothes. “I… I just missed him, didn’t I?”
Sophie looked up and gave her a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, he was swamped the moment he got here. They barely had time to get him settled with all the delays.” She gestured to the grid display above them, where Max’s name glowed beside the stark “P17” position. “Rough start, but he’ll be glad to know you’re here.”
She nodded, feeling a pang as she glanced at his car just as it rumbled to life. His fingers flexed on the steering wheel, even from a distance she could see the tension there. She let out a breath, feeling a swell of pride and worry all at once. “Well, I’ll be here watching, then.”
Sophie handed her a headset, which she slipped on just in time to hear his engineer’s voice crackle through with the first instructions as they prepared for the start. The rain was relentless, turning the track into a slick, treacherous maze, and she felt her stomach twist as the cars peeled out onto the track for the formation lap. Max’s car trailed near the back, but she knew he’d fight, as he always did, with a ferocity she both admired and feared in moments like this.
The race began, a chaotic blur of spray and metal, the cars kicking up rooster tails of water, visibility nearly zero as they fought for position. She gripped the edge of her seat as the laps ticked by, heart pounding with every close call. It quickly became clear that the conditions were only worsening, drivers struggling to keep their cars on track, a few even skidding off into barriers with loud, bone-jarring crashes. Her hands tightened around the headset as Max navigate his way forward, battling his way to P10, then P6.
And then, just when the tension seemed to reach its peak, there was a deafening crash, followed by a sudden hush as the red flag went up, halting the race.
Her breath caught in her throat. The screen above replayed the incident—a skidding into the barrier that had caused an emergency stop. The seconds felt like hours as she waited, desperately searching for a glimpse of his car on the feed. Finally, there it was, intact, safe. Relief flooded her, and she felt her shoulders sag.
The race restarted after the delay, and she watched in awe as Max took advantage of the reshuffled positions and tire changes, surging forward with a newfound intensity. Lap by lap, he clawed his way through the field, passing car after car with a precision that made her heart race. It was as if he’d transformed, harnessing every ounce of his frustration from the last few races, channelling it into something extraordinary.
The garage erupted in cheers as he moved into P3, then P1. She stared at the screen, hardly daring to blink, her heart racing as he crossed the finish line in first place, drenched in rain and glory.
She could hardly believe it. From P17 to P1. He’d done it.
Forgetting herself, she laughed, a sound of pure joy, her heart swelling as she watched him slow down, the victory finally sinking in. She couldn't wait to see his face when he finally realised she was here, to be the first person he’d see when he stepped out of that car, soaked and grinning, finally at the top.
Ripping her headset off, she followed the crew as they ran out to parc fermé, her heart racing as fast as the roar of the crowd. The team, buzzing with excitement, parted slightly as she joined them, nudging her to the front so she’d be the first face he saw. She could barely breathe as she caught sight of Max’s car, now still, the rain glistening on its blue-and-red bodywork.
With all the force he had he climbed out, pulling off his helmet to reveal damp, messy hair and a face lit up with exhilaration and disbelief. For a moment, he simply stood there, taking in the shouts of the crowd and the blinding flashes of cameras. And then, his gaze landed on her.
His eyes widened, his exhaustion and surprise giving way to pure joy. Without hesitation, he broke into a run, crossing the slick tarmac with the kind of speed and determination that made her heart leap. She barely had a second to react before he wrapped her in his arms, his lips crashing against hers as he pulled her close, his hands pressed firmly against her back, as if he still couldn’t believe she was real.
“You came,” he murmured breathlessly, pulling back just enough to look at her, his face filled with awe and happiness.
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” she replied, her voice trembling with emotion, brushing a wet strand of hair from his face.
He smiled, a bright, unguarded smile that melted her heart. “God, I needed this. I needed you.”
And then he kissed her again, a kiss filled with all the missed moments and the words they hadn’t been able to say, the thrill of his victory mingling with the fierce love they shared. She felt the rain soak through her clothes, the crowd and the noise around them fading as they held each other, his arms wrapping around her as if he could protect her from the rest of the world.
“I still can’t believe it,” he whispered against her lips, his forehead resting against hers, his hand gently brushing her cheek. “P1. And you’re here.”
She laughed softly, her eyes shining. “You deserve it, Max. I knew you could do it.”
He held her close, a triumphant laugh bubbling from his chest as he buried his face in her neck, and they stood there in the pouring rain, lost in each other, savouring the victory and this long-awaited moment they both knew they’d never forget.
As the noise of the cheering crew and fans started to swell around them, Max pulled back slightly, brushing his thumb across her cheek, his gaze lingering on her face as if he was trying to commit every detail to memory.
“I have to go,” he said softly, his voice tinged with regret. “The interviews, cool-down room, podium… but wait for me? I’ll meet you in my driver’s room as soon as I can.”
She nodded, understanding but already missing the warmth of his arms. “I’ll be waiting. Go,” she whispered, giving him a small smile. “Enjoy every second—you deserve it.”
He pressed one last, lingering kiss to her forehead, then turned and jogged off to join the waiting crew, helmet in hand, while she stayed rooted to her spot, watching him disappear into the crowd. Her heart swelled with pride as she trailed after the team to watch his interviews, his beaming, breathless face glowing with pride and energy as he spoke about the gruelling conditions and the unbelievable climb from P17 to P1.
Then came the cool-down room, where she watched from the sidelines as he bantered with the other drivers, sharing exhausted smiles and congratulatory claps on the back, the weight of his achievement settling in as he finally let himself relax a little. She couldn’t help but smile, feeling as though she could burst with joy just watching him, his eyes sparking with energy even as he looked ready to collapse from exhaustion.
And finally, the podium. She felt the crowd’s excitement echo through her as she looked up to see him standing tall, drenched from head to toe, a bottle of champagne in hand. When he raised it in victory, the crowd erupted, and she joined them, cheering at the top of her lungs as he sprayed champagne with abandon, laughing as he celebrated with the other drivers. His eyes swept over the crowd, and when they found hers, he gave a subtle nod, a silent promise that he’d be back with her soon.
After the podium, she made her way to his driver’s room, her heart fluttering as she paced the small space, the thrill of the day lingering in every fibre of her being. And then, finally, the door swung open, and there he was.
He looked completely worn out, his hair still damp and messy, his fireproof undersuit clinging to his skin. But his smile was bright, and his eyes lit up the moment he saw her.
Without a word, he crossed the room, pulling her into his arms, his lips finding hers in a soft, exhausted kiss. She melted into him, her arms wrapping around his neck as he held her close, the adrenaline and joy from his victory radiating between them.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy,” he whispered against her ear, his voice low and hoarse. “Winning today… and having you here with me. It’s everything.”
She brushed a strand of damp hair from his face, smiling as she traced her fingers along his cheek. “You did it, Max. I’m so proud of you.”
He took her hand, pressing it to his heart, his eyes never leaving hers. “None of it would mean anything without you,” he said quietly, his voice steady.
She felt her eyes sting with tears, overwhelmed by the depth of his words. “I’m here,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll always be here.”
They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world slipping away. He stroked her hair, pressing gentle kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, as if savouring each moment.
“Let’s get out of here,” he finally murmured, his voice warm and soft, “celebrate somewhere a little less chaotic.”
She laughed, nodding. “Anywhere, as long as it’s with you.”
They headed back to his hotel, hand in hand, a peaceful quiet settling over them as they left the track behind. Once in the privacy of his suite, he gave her a lingering kiss, then smiled, nodding toward the bathroom. “Give me a few minutes to wash off all the champagne and… probably half the track dust,” he said with a laugh.
She grinned, watching as he disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the suite a moment later. While he showered, she took the opportunity to pack up her things from her own room, gathering her scattered belongings quickly. The thrill of being close, of finally sharing a space for the night, filled her with a warmth that had nothing to do with the tropical heat outside.
By the time she returned, he was out of the shower, towelling off his damp hair, his expression softening as he took in the sight of her standing there with her things. Without a word, he crossed the room and took her bags from her hands, setting them by the closet as he gave her a smile that made her heart skip.
Once they’d both changed into fresh clothes—she’d opted for a simple dress, and he in casual jeans and a loose shirt—they slipped out of the hotel through a side exit, making their way to a tiny, tucked-away Brazilian restaurant that had been recommended. The place was hidden, small enough to be missed by the crowds, with soft, low lighting that created an intimate, cosy atmosphere. A few locals lingered around tables, but they paid little attention to the couple as they took a corner table in the back.
They ordered caipirinhas and he reached across the table to hold her hand, his fingers tracing gentle circles on her skin as they laughed over silly little things, shared stories from the past few weeks, and spoke of things beyond racing, beyond work, just slipping back into the easy flow they always shared. The food was rich and delicious—small plates of feijoada, grilled meats, and pão de queijo—everything flavorful and homey.
He leaned across the table, his eyes warm and filled with that familiar spark, as he watched her speak, clearly savouring every moment. “You know,” he said softly, “I think this is the best victory celebration I’ve ever had.”
She squeezed his hand, smiling back at him. “Same here. I missed just… being with you like this.”
They stayed until the restaurant closed, lingering over the last bites of dessert, letting the night stretch out as long as possible. Eventually, they headed back to the hotel, the city streets now quiet and still beneath the soft hum of streetlights.
Once back in his room, Max changed into a pair of soft pyjama bottoms, leaving his chest bare, his skin still warm from the shower. She slipped into one of his t-shirts, the fabric soft and oversized, the scent of him comforting and familiar. When she stepped out the bathroom, he was already waiting for her by the bed, his gaze softening as he took her in, a gentle smile curving on his lips.
Without a word, he reached for her, lacing his fingers through hers as he pulled her close, guiding her to the bed. She sank into the mattress beside him, and he wrapped an arm around her, drawing her against his chest, his fingertips trailing absently over her shoulder. She nestled into him, feeling his warmth seep through her, a cosy silence wrapping around them.
They lay there, tangled together, her head tucked beneath his chin as he gently traced circles on her back, his breath even and steady. He tilted her chin up, his eyes searching hers for a quiet moment before he leaned down, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss, filled with a tenderness that said everything words couldn’t. She kissed him back just as gently, savouring the intimacy of being close like this, the world beyond these walls feeling miles away.
When the kiss ended, he pressed his forehead to hers, a soft sigh escaping as he held her close, one hand settling over hers, fingers intertwined. They stayed that way, her head resting against his heartbeat, lulled by the steady rhythm.
Finally, they drifted off, still tangled in each other’s arms, wrapped up in the warmth and comfort of just being together. As the night settled around them, Max couldn’t help but smile, holding her a little closer as he slipped into sleep, his heart full and light.
Max couldn’t have wished for a better weekend.
the end.
1K notes · View notes
xo100 · 4 months ago
Text
Coming home - LN4
*:・゚ Summary/request: by anon; ‘y/n drunk in a club and calling lando to pick her up 🙈 him being patient and gentle 🫶🏼 thank you!!!’
*:・゚ Word count: 2214
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
୨ৎ
It had been a quiet evening for Lando Norris. The kind of evening he loved, where the house was filled with the gentle hum of the TV, and the warmth of home comforted him after a long day. He’d spent most of his time winding down, his thoughts often drifting to his girlfriend, who had texted him earlier in the day, saying she’d be out with friends tonight.
“You have fun,” he had told her with a smile before she left, his hands gently resting on her hips as he gave her a kiss goodbye.
She never went out too often—mostly a homebody unlike him—so he had encouraged her to enjoy herself, to have a night of fun and laughter, with drinks if she felt like it. He knew she didn’t really drink much, maybe a cocktail here or there, but nothing excessive. She had always been mindful, careful, but tonight seemed a little different.
-
It was around midnight when Lando's phone buzzed.
At first, he didn’t think much of it. He figured it would be one of those casual updates, maybe a quick check-in to let him know she was alright. But when he glanced at the screen, the sight of her name at the top of the message thread made him pause, and the message itself made him frown slightly in confusion.
“I’msogldmkgoig,” the text read. He blinked, squinting at the screen.
Lando tilted his head, trying to decipher the meaning of the garbled message. Was she typing in some kind of code? Then it hit him—a small smile tugged at his lips. She was drunk. Really drunk.
Shaking his head with a soft chuckle, he swiped open his phone, his thumbs moving quickly over the screen.
“Hey, you okay? Need me to pick you up?”
It took a minute or two for a response to come in, and when it did, it was no clearer than the first.
“nnoOOO immmmperf!!! ssssgood igot this!!! 😊😊😊”
Lando laughed under his breath, a fond smile settling on his face. He could just imagine her sitting at a table with her friends, holding her phone up way too close to her face, squinting at the keyboard as she tried to string a sentence together. She always got flustered when her texts came out wrong, even more so when she had a bit too much to drink.
He tried calling her, but it rang for a moment before she declined it. Another message popped up.
“ssorryyyyy busyy having fun witt gurls!! 🎉🍹”
Lando raised an eyebrow. He knew her friends, and he had no doubt they were looking after her, but it was clear she was teetering on the edge of tipsy and downright hammered.
A part of him wanted to laugh at the situation, but the protective part of him nudged forward. He’d rather her be home and safe than out and struggling to figure out how to text properly.
After sending her another message asking if she needed help, he waited, watching the dots of her typing bubble appear and disappear before another string of incomprehensible words filled the chat.
Then, finally, she called him.
Her name flashed across the screen, and Lando answered quickly.
“Hiiiii,” she sang into the phone, her voice bright but undeniably slurred.
“Hey, love,” Lando said softly, leaning back on the couch, the smile in his voice impossible to miss. “You doing okay over there?”
There was a brief pause on the other end, a bit of shuffling and background noise as her friends laughed and chatted around her. “Mmmm, I think soooo,” she said, dragging out the words. “But Landoooo, guess what?”
“What?” Lando humored her, knowing she probably had no idea where this conversation was going.
“I miss youuuu,” she said with a giggle, her voice softening with an endearing whine. “Like, really, really miss you.”
Lando’s heart did a little flip, warmth spreading in his chest. “I miss you too,” he replied, his voice dropping into that gentle, affectionate tone he used whenever they were being sweet with each other. “How about I come pick you up, hmm? I think it’s time to get you home.”
There was another pause, and he could hear the muffled sound of her friends in the background again, likely checking in on her. Then she whispered into the phone, as if telling him the world’s biggest secret, “Okay… but don’t tell anyone… I’m a little drunk.”
Lando chuckled, shaking his head fondly. “You don’t say.”
“But I’m not… that drunk,” she continued, her words tumbling over each other. “Just… a little.”
“Sure, babe,” Lando said playfully, standing up from the couch and grabbing his keys. “I’ll be there in a bit, alright? Stay with your friends. I’m on my way.”
“‘Kayyy,” she sighed, clearly relieved. “Lando?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re the best,” she whispered, her voice filled with a drunken sincerity that made Lando’s chest tighten in the best way.
He grinned, shaking his head again as he headed out the door. “You’re not too bad yourself, love.”
-
The drive to the bar wasn’t long. Lando had been there with her and her friends before, and he knew the route by heart. As he pulled up, his eyes immediately scanned the front of the building, and sure enough, he spotted her standing with a few of her friends near the curb, her posture relaxed but a little wobbly. She was laughing at something one of them had said, her phone clutched in one hand, her jacket loosely draped over her shoulders.
Lando parked and stepped out of the car, his eyes softening as they landed on her. She looked up and saw him, her face lighting up in a way that made his heart skip. She immediately broke into a wide, tipsy grin, her eyes sparkling as she waved enthusiastically.
“Landooo!” she called, drawing out his name in that adorable, exaggerated way she always did when she was happy to see him.
He chuckled, making his way over to her, his hands slipping into his pockets as he approached. “Hey, you,” he greeted, his voice warm and teasing.
She stumbled slightly as she moved toward him, but he was quick to catch her, his hands gently wrapping around her waist to steady her. “Careful, love,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.
Her arms looped around his neck as she looked up at him, her eyes a little glassy but full of affection. “You came,” she said, her voice softer now, as if the reality of him being there had just hit her.
“Of course I did,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “I wasn’t gonna leave you here drunk and texting me gibberish all night.”
She giggled, her cheeks flushing. “I wasn’t texting gibberish!”
Lando raised an eyebrow, pulling out his phone and holding up her messages for her to see. “You sure about that?”
She squinted at the screen, her face scrunching up in concentration before she groaned, burying her face in his chest. “Okay, maybe a little gibberish,” she mumbled.
He laughed softly, wrapping his arms around her a little tighter. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
She let out a dramatic sigh, looking up at him with wide, playful eyes. “But I was having funnn,” she whined, though the smile tugging at her lips told him she was more than happy to go with him.
“I’m sure you were,” Lando said with a smirk. “But you’ll have more fun when you’re not regretting all those drinks tomorrow.”
She pouted up at him for a moment before her expression softened, her hand coming up to gently cup his cheek. “You’re so good to me,” she whispered, her voice carrying that drunken tenderness again.
Lando’s heart melted at her words, and he leaned down to kiss her softly, his lips brushing against hers with all the love and patience in the world. “Only because you’re worth it,” he murmured against her lips before pulling back slightly. “Come on, let’s get you in the car.”
-
The drive home was quiet, her head resting against the window as the streetlights flickered by. Every now and then, she’d glance over at him, her eyes soft and full of affection. He’d catch her staring and smile, reaching over to squeeze her hand gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in soothing circles.
“You’re really cute, you know that?” she said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lando laughed softly. “Am I?”
“Mhm,” she hummed, her eyes drifting shut as she leaned back into the seat. “Really, really cute.”
He shook his head, the fondness in his chest swelling as he stole a glance at her. “You’re something else.”
By the time they got home, she was half-asleep, her body heavy with the exhaustion that always seemed to follow a night of drinking. Lando parked the car and got out, walking over to her side and opening the door. She stirred slightly, her eyes blinking open as he reached out a hand to help her up.
“You okay to walk?” he asked gently.
She nodded, though her movements were slow and sleepy. He wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her out of the car as she leaned into him for support. Her head rested against his shoulder, and a small, content sigh escaped her lips as they made their way toward the house.
Lando unlocked the door and led her inside, his grip gentle but firm. She stumbled a little on her way through the doorway, giggling at her own clumsiness.
“You’re like my knight in shining armor,” she slurred playfully, looking up at him with a soft smile as they stood in the entryway. “Except you drive a McLaren instead of a horse.”
Lando chuckled, rolling his eyes in amusement. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She nodded, her head resting back on his shoulder as they made their way down the hallway to their bedroom. “It’s totally a compliment,” she mumbled, her voice getting quieter with each word. “You’re perfect.”
They reached the bed, and Lando helped her sit down, carefully slipping off her shoes. “Alright, love,” he said softly, “let's get you into something more comfortable.”
She whined in protest, her arms going limp as she dramatically fell back onto the bed, her legs still dangling off the edge. “But I’m already sooo comfy,” she groaned.
Lando smirked, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered affectionately as he knelt down to take her shoes off. Then he stood, heading to the closet to grab one of his oversized hoodies—one she always liked to wear—and brought it back to her.
With a bit of gentle coaxing, he helped her change out of her clothes, into the soft hoodie that smelled faintly of him. She sighed in contentment, snuggling into the fabric as soon as it was on.
“There you go,” he whispered, brushing her hair back from her face. “All cozy.”
She smiled sleepily at him, her eyes half-lidded as she gazed up at him. “Lando?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
The words came out soft and vulnerable, almost like a confession. Even though she was drunk, there was a deep sincerity in her voice that made his heart ache in the best way. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead before resting his own forehead against hers.
“I love you too” he murmured, his voice filled with all the affection he’d been holding onto since the moment she had called him. “So much.”
She smiled, her eyes fluttering closed as she snuggled deeper into the blankets. “You’re the best boyfriend ever,” she mumbled, her words slurring together as sleep started to claim her.
Lando stayed there for a moment, just watching her, his heart swelling with warmth. He could see the way her breathing slowed, her body relaxing completely as she drifted off to sleep. Even in her drunken state, she was still the girl he adored—the one who made him laugh, who always knew how to make him smile, and who filled his life with more joy than he ever thought possible.
He stood up slowly, making sure she was tucked in before he changed into his own clothes for the night. Sliding into bed next to her, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. She instinctively moved toward him, her body curling into his as she sighed in contentment.
Lando pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, his fingers gently brushing through her hair as he whispered, “Goodnight, love.”
And as she slept peacefully in his arms, he couldn’t help but smile, his heart full. Because nights like this—where he could be there for her, take care of her, and remind her just how much he loved her—were the ones that made everything worth it.
She might have been a little too drunk tonight, but to Lando, she was perfect in every way. And as they lay there, tangled together in the quiet comfort of their home, he knew he wouldn’t trade a single moment of it for the world.
୨ৎ
*:・゚ Notes; Hey anon! I hope you enjoyed it and that this was what you had in mind! If not let me know so I can change things! Enjoy it, love! I’m also currently working on part 3 of baking cookies, coming online soon!
2K notes · View notes
ddejavvu · 3 months ago
Note
I can't get the thought of marking Hotch up with lipstick marks out of my head. Like imagine leaving a trail of kisses down from his neck to his dick. And if the lipstick is starting to fade, he'd reapply it for her so she could continue marking him
Hotch is typically more-than-professional during round table sessions, the grim atmosphere of the room setting the tone for his no-nonsense behavior. However, he can't stop himself from itching at a persistent stinging against his collarbone- probably something to do with the mark you'd sucked into his skin only hours earlier.
it's such an intense sensation that he slips a hand beneath his collar to itch it skin-on-skin, something probably unprofessional considering his environment, but one of those base human things that must be done even if it shouldn't be. A few wandering eyes note his movements, observant but neutral as a profiler should be.
It isn't until he withdraws his hand, fingers stained a crimson red, that anyone reacts.
JJ shifts in her seat, eyes blowing wide as Prentiss leans forwards, "Hotch, is that blood?"
Aaron's already grasped the edge of his manila folder with his lipstick-stained fingers, turning the yellow paper a sinful shade. He frowns, glancing down at his pristinely pressed suit, but there's nothing red against his chest.
"Your hand," Reid urges, his brows knitted in concern, but it's Derek- of course - who recognizes the red for what it really is.
"Hold on," He laughs incredulously, a great gust of air that comes out like a bark, "Hold on, hold on, hold on, that came off'a your chest?"
Caught red-handed, Hotch composes himself, which is a very stark difference to the way that his team dissolves into teasing giggles. Penelope has clapped a hand over her mouth, perhaps the only way she can hold herself back from opening it.
"Settle down." Hotch attempts, but Rossi undermines him with an exasperated groan. Once the oldest of the team proves unreachable Hotch knows he's lost the room, and sits in stony silence while he waits for his coworkers to finish getting their fill.
"My man." Morgan declares, clapping Hotch on the shoulder with a strong hand he's lucky not to lose, "She got you in the doorway this morning, didn't she?"
"We're talking about dead teenagers, here." Hotch reminds them, raising a brow as Emily, Penelope, and JJ collapse into girlish giggles, "Can we please focus on the case?"
"This is on you, Hotch." Rossi levels him with what's supposed to be an unimpressed glare, and what really comes off as a smirk, "It's not their fault you come to work with lipstick under your clothes."
"I have to ask Y/N for that shade," Penelope gushes, but at Hotch's warning glare she grabs her remote and retakes her place beside the viewing screen, "But-! But our trusty boss is right, there are lives on the line here. So- um, incriminating lipstick stains pushed to the back of the mind, we'll start up again on our case."
Hotch's shoulders relax as the team sinks back into careful contemplation of the case details. He thinks he's escaped scrutiny altogether thanks to the shocking violence of this particular unsub, but it's three days later when he hears about the lipstick stains again.
Surprisingly, it's Reid that comes to torture him, and the slick comment comes when Hotch is forced into sharing a motel room with him. Communal bathrooms are in the middle of the complex, but it's easier to change in their rooms. He unbuckles his belt facing the corner of the small room, giving Reid space to change himself, and giving both of them as much privacy as possible.
"Careful, Hotch," Reid calls, voice misleadingly kind-hearted which lures Aaron into a sense of security, "There's a gap in the curtains behind where you're standing. You wouldn't want any onlookers to see any more lipstick Y/N left behind."
Hotch decides that Reid is worse than Morgan. Morgan is expected to be crass, so it's not a shock when it's delivered. Reid, however, is one to watch out for.
"Reid," Hotch responds, hearing Spencer's breathy laughter already bubbling from his throat, "I'm sticking you on desk duty for a month when we get back."
1K notes · View notes
soaps-mohawk · 7 months ago
Text
Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 27: Drown In It
Summary: Your heat lingers closer and closer, which leaves you with some conflicting feelings. Of course, you're not going to worry about them for much longer...
Paring: Poly 141 x reader
Word Count: 6,179 words
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, p in v sex, unprotected sex, bodily fluids, heat cycles, knotting, licking, biting, grinding, spanking (it's like once), kissing, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, a sprinkle of angst, language, emotions, and of course some fluff
A/N: And we're in it again, folks. It's happening (again). Though this time, there may be a bit of a surprise....
MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->
(Yes I am using a Barry Sloane gif, trust me you will understand once you read the chapter)
Tumblr media
You freeze, dread and panic beginning to fill you as you stand in the doorway to the rec room. The pounding of your heart is loud in your ears, which are quickly growing hot. The urge to turn tail and run is strong, yet you can’t move, frozen in place by the sight in front of you. 
Simon is sitting, far too relaxed, in the chair where he normally sits. There’s a book in his hands, the crinkle of the page being turned is like a gunshot. You almost flinch in response, but hold still, wondering if you could back away before he notices your presence. You know it would be futile. He would have heard the crinkling of the bag of chips in your hand, the quiet rustle of it against your leg as soon as you turned the corner. 
“Interesting book, this.” He says, not bothering to look up as he sits reclined in the chair, about halfway through the book in his hands. 
Your mouth goes dry as you stare at him. You might never have given him, or the book, a second glance had you not been so clearly able to see the cover. It was almost like he was doing it on purpose, hoping you’d see what he’d found, what he’d discovered in your underwear drawer. It’s almost like he was hoping you’d walk in and see it. Or maybe he heard you coming and positioned himself so you’d see it. 
“‘The Powerful Omega.’” He says, closing the book to stare at the title. 
You shift on your feet nervously, ready to run if you need to, the bag of chips crinkling as you tighten your grip on it.. “I-I can explain-” 
“No need.” He says, cutting you off as he flips the book back open. “Is this how you got into our heads so easily?” 
Despite the accusing question, his tone isn’t malicious or even disparaging. You fiddle with your fingers, starting to feel like you’re being tested. If you say yes, what will he do? Get angry, accuse you of manipulation? But if you say no, he might think you’re lying, or perhaps he already knows the answer. 
“I-It helped a bit.” You say, shuffling forward a step. “At first. I almost forgot it was in there.” 
“‘Learn to Speak Their Language.’” He reads off the chapter title, your cheeks warming a bit. Of course he’d be there when you caught him. He stares at you over the top of the book, your gaze turned to the black TV screen. You can’t stare at him. Not right now. “Is this why you asked me to train you?” 
There’s no lying to him. You already know that. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, nodding. “It was part of it. It gave me the idea, but then I realized if I’m gonna go around making stupid decisions like punching alphas, maybe I should know how to defend myself a little. I-I also thought it might help me get closer to you, at least get you to tolerate me a bit.” 
He huffs out a laugh. “Well, I can say it worked. Was more you than anything, but I was a bit touched you asked me.” 
Your nervousness begins to calm as you realize he’s not angry you have the book. He’s also not angry you used it to get closer to them, to begin to integrate yourself into their pack. You set your chips down on the coffee table, sitting on the edge of the couch. 
“How did you get it?” He asks. 
“I called Kate.” You give him a small smile. “When she sent me the first uh...care package. That was part of it.” 
He huffs, shaking his head. “Sneaky thing.” 
“I mean, one of you was bound to find it eventually.” You shrug. “Thought it might be Johnny with how often he sneaks into my underwear drawer. Though, I suppose he steals them from the laundry basket more often.” 
He hums, his gaze returning to the book. 
“Are you really reading it?” You ask. 
“‘Course.” He responds, getting comfortable in the chair again. 
A smile tugs at your lips as you watch him, his focus zeroing in on the book again. You get an idea, rising from the couch to scan the shelves in the rec room. You find a manual on guns and ammunition, sitting back down with the heavy book in one hand, your chips in the other. Simon glances at you over the top of his book again as you make yourself comfortable on the other side of the couch, the title clearly visible as you turn to the first page. 
“Really?” He asks, exasperated. 
You shrug, glancing up at him. “It’s only fair.” 
“Little shit.” He rolls his eyes, letting out a sigh as he goes back to reading your book. You sink down against the arm of the couch, using your book to hide your satisfied grin. 
Tumblr media
“It never fails to amaze me.” 
“Huh?” You turn to face Johnny, a piece of popcorn falling out of your mouth from how much you've managed to stuff inside in one bite. 
“How much ye can eat during your pre-heat.” He says, grabbing the piece of popcorn that landed on the couch between you. 
You attempt to say something in response, but it comes out as a muffled mess around the popcorn you’re chewing. Johnny eats the piece that fell, reaching for the bowl. You move it out of his reach, pressing your foot against his side to keep him from getting too close. 
“Mine.” You say, pushing against his side, trying to get him to move away from you. 
He’s undeterred, using his size against you as he reaches for the bowl. A low growl rubles in your chest as you lean backwards, trying to keep it out of his reach. He freezes at the sound, staring down at you as you glare at him. 
“Did ye just growl at me?” He blinks at you, his lips turning up in a grin. 
You bare your teeth at him, another growl rumbling in your chest. You go for his arm, his reflexes just managing to yank it out of the way before your teeth sink into his skin. 
“Alright, alright.” He says, holding up his hands as he sinks back into his spot. “I got the message.” He grins as you sit up, holding the bowl protectively against your chest. “That might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” He pulls out his phone, snapping a picture as you glare at him. 
Your glare deepens as you shovel more popcorn into your mouth. He nearly giggles as he stares down at his phone, tapping on the screen a few times. You push yourself up, trying to get a look at his screen. “Who are you sending that to?” You ask between mouthfuls of popcorn. 
“The group chat.” He says, as if that’s not revealing news. 
“Group chat?” You ask around another mouthful. 
He nods. “Just the four of us fellas for blethering.” 
You blink at him, trying to translate what he means in your pre-heat addled brain. “Huh?” You say stupidly, a piece of popcorn dropping back into the bowl from the handful you had been holding up halfway to your mouth. 
“We like tae gossip among each other.” He says, giving you a grin. 
“Do you...talk about me?” You ask before shoving the handful of popcorn in your mouth. 
“All the time.” He answers, using his reflexes to steal a piece of popcorn from the bowl. 
You’re too distracted to care, though if your mouth hadn’t been full you might have been tempted to bite him in retaliation. “‘Bout what?” You ask, the words almost unintelligible thanks to the popcorn you’re still chewing. 
“Oh, lots of things.” He grins. “How cute ye look all cozy in yer bed, how nicely yer arse looks in your skids, how we got ye to moan like that, tips on how tae make yer legs shake-” He does let out a giggle as you softly kick him in his side.
“Rude.” You pout as you curl up against the arm of the couch away from him with your bowl. “Could at least include me.” 
“Aw but we need our space,” He says, leaning closer to you. “Fer all our mingin' gab.” 
You give him a look, still trying to process his words as he presses a kiss to your head. He uses your distraction to steal a piece of popcorn from the bowl, immediately jumping away from you as you react, letting out another growl. The popcorn bowl falls to the floor as you leap at him, ready to sink your teeth into his arm. 
Tumblr media
“You're avoiding me.”
Simon glances up at you before looking back at his computer. “Not on purpose. You know the dangers if you go into heat too close.” 
He’s right. Though, you think you’d know if your heat was starting and you could get away before things got dangerous. Of course, with his sensitive instincts, he might notice before you do. Things would get ugly fast if John noticed too and tried to stop Simon. You’re not sure the betas could get to you in time to try and stop them, or at least get you away in hopes it clears their heads enough. 
You look around Simon’s office, the desk shoved further back to make room for the two cots set up in the corner closest to the door. Soon he and Johnny would be shut in here, avoiding the hallway around the corner while you and John fucked nearly non-stop for the next week. 
It feels different now that you’ve reached this new stage of your relationship with Simon. He’s not on the outside anymore, not separate from you. There’s a strong bond there now, one both of you have contributed to. He had made the boundary clear, even without having to say anything. He won’t take the risk of helping you. He’s not your alpha. 
However, wouldn’t complain if he were the one to get to you first, to lock you in his office and throw you on the cots and fuck you stupid for the next week. You shift on your feet at the thought of taking his knot, being pumped full of him and locked together. Would he remove his mask? Would you remember his face at the end of your heat-induced haze? 
He’d never forgive himself if it happened. He’d close himself off, avoid you like the plague. It would shred that fragile bond that has been set in place. 
You won’t entertain those thoughts anymore. Not when he’s so clearly drawn the line. 
You take half a step forward, pausing at the growl that rumbles in his chest. He’s setting another boundary, warning you of the dangers both of you pose towards each other in this delicate time. 
You continue forward despite the obvious warning, pushing against the instincts telling you to heed it and stay back. Yet, he doesn't stop you as you pass his desk, slinging a leg over him and planting yourself in his lap. It’s obvious, the tension in his body as you sit there, as if you might go into heat at any second. There will be signs once it is coming on, symptoms different from ones you feel outside of heats. 
You stare up into his eyes, his gaze sharp but not piercing as it once might have been. There’s a softness to it, something you might even call affection as he stares down at you. 
“Will you kiss me?” You ask softly, hesitantly. “One last time? So maybe I might remember you still like me when I wake up on the other side of this?” 
“I don’t think you could forget that.” He says, his hands dropping to grip your thighs. 
“Still...would be nice to have one.” You say, wrapping your arms around his neck. “For good luck?” 
He hums, the sound rumbling in his chest, before he lifts a hand, pulling his mask up to his nose. He leans forward, meeting you halfway as he presses his lips to yours. 
The kiss is searing, conveying a deep passion and almost a longing feeling as his lips move against yours. Does he regret his decision not to even offer to help you? You’re not sure even you would have said yes to his offer. It’s only your second heat, the second time you’ve trusted your pack to care for you in such a vulnerable position. While you don’t distrust Simon and his ability to take care of you, a deep part of you longs for your alpha and the surety and safety he’s already proven. 
Simon’s hand slides up your back, brushing over your neck before cradling the back of your head. He holds you still as he licks the seam of your lips. You moan softly against his mouth, wishing you could pull him closer, wishing you could sink into him and avoid the inevitable heat lingering over your head. 
A sigh is pulled from your lips as his tongue presses into your mouth, taking its time to explore before flicking against your own. His other arm wraps around your back, tugging you against him, chest to chest, legs spread around his hips. Had you not been trying to rest your body, or entirely disinterested in sex currently, you might have fucked him right in this chair, one last time before you’re lost to your heat and your alpha. 
He pulls away from your lips, resting his forehead against yours as you both pant softly. The silence is loud, but it speaks volumes between you, sharing things you’re too scared to say out loud, things that push the boundaries of vulnerability between the two of you. There will be time afterward, plenty of time to gently push those boundaries and continue to worm your way into his most intimate thoughts. 
You open your eyes, meeting his gaze. You can see the dots of freckles on his skin, the shades of brown in his eyes. His breath is warm against your lips as you sit there, almost like you’re trying to commit each other to memory, as if you’ll forget about him as soon as the door seals you and John inside your room. You will forget in the throes of your heat, but once the haze fades and you come back to yourself, you’ll remember him. He won’t be far, and neither will you. 
“See you on the other side?” You say, cupping his face, letting your thumb trace the line of his jaw, his stubble prickling your skin. 
He leans forward, kissing you once more, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. 
“See you on the other side.” 
Tumblr media
You’re on fire.
Sweat has soaked your skin and right through the loose shirt you had donned earlier. It’s dripping down your face, offering no relief from the lava pulsing under your skin. You’re surprised the liquid doesn’t start sizzling as it drips down your chest and arms. You’re panting softly, legs spread as you lay on the bed. There’s a steady pulsing between your legs, the ache and need beginning to steadily grow more intense as slick seeps out of you and onto the blankets below. 
You woke earlier with a crawling sensation under your skin, your pajamas quickly ditched in favor of the baggy shirt to avoid the overstimulation of any tight fabric. You knew last night as soon as the ravenous hunger began to abate that you were close. Mid-bite of some potatoes the hunger had faded and suddenly they looked almost repulsive. Simon and Johnny had moved into his office and you quarantined in your room with Kyle and John on standby. 
Sleep had evaded you for most of the night as you waited for it to start, expecting it to be in the middle of the night like last time. Your mind had faded in and out of sleep, expecting to wake any moment with the uncomfortable feverish heat beneath your skin. 
Instead you woke early with no sign of it yet, still dry between your legs and almost cold from the always cool air in the barracks. The only sign had been the itching, crawling feeling beneath your skin. 
You’d made it just past lunch, Kyle bringing in food for you, which you had struggled through, only eating to try and get some last calories into your body. The familiar electrolyte drinks and nutrition bars that will keep both you and John alive over the next week, sit in stacks next to the door, some already set up on your nightstand. Your bed has been stripped down to a sheet, your pillow, and the blanket you slept under last night. Your stuffed animals and decorative pillows sit piled on your desk in the corner. 
It came on suddenly, the heat beneath your skin. The prickling sensation had begun in your core and flared outward to your very fingertips. It had been like a flushing feeling, the heat rippling through you. The book in your hands slid onto the floor as the deep cramping began, making you wince. You’re not quite sure what had been worse, the pain or the initial panic. 
Your phone is on the floor with your book after you’d managed to send a text to Kyle. The panic is still bubbling under the surface as your brain begins to get foggy, its only focus the pulsing between your thighs. It’s been a while since you’ve been awake for the start of your heat. The last one had started in your sleep, and the one before that you had been sedated by the CIA, closely monitored and put under before the itching even began under your skin. 
Your trembling fingers fumble with one of the electrolyte drinks on your nightstand, struggling to wrap around it and then get the cap off. It does little to soothe the dryness in your mouth, but you drink as much of it as you can. 
The door opens, Kyle slipping through before quickly closing it behind him. He approaches the bed, that sympathetic look in his eyes again. He’s not sure what to say, you can tell by his hesitance, but what is there to say in this moment? ‘Good luck, hope John doesn’t accidentally hurt you?’ 
You don’t blame him for his silence, though you know his beta is agitated, wanting to offer you comfort and support, but he can’t. He can’t do much for you this time, only your alpha can. 
Kyle bends down, picking up your phone and book from the floor before checking the charge on your phone. He sets it down on the nightstand, pulling another from his pocket and placing it down next to yours. It’s John’s personal phone. You recognize the familiar olive green case. Kyle will alternate charging them, mostly for John’s peace of mind. Not that he’ll care much about potential calls or messages while he’s knotted inside of you. 
“You’ll be okay.” Kyle says, brushing the wisps of hair stuck to your forehead back. Johnny had braided it last night, his final act of comfort before retreating with Simon to their own quarantined space. Kyle must have noted the nervous edges in your scent still lingering in the air as he tries to comfort you. 
You hold his hand against your face, nuzzling your cheek against his rough palm. It’s not quite enough, he’s not quite enough, but it’s no fault of his own. Your instincts are beginning to take over. The desire for an alpha, your alpha, to help you is overtaking any rational thought. 
Kyle strokes your cheek for a moment before he pulls away, taking the bottle from your trembling hands and tossing it in the trash. He folds your blanket and drapes it over the footboard before setting your book on your desk. 
“John knows.” He says, standing close to the door. “He’ll be in soon.” 
All you can do is nod as you rub your thighs together, trying to get any ounce of friction you can. The fabric of the shirt you’re wearing is like a million tiny knives against your skin, but your hands are useless as they tug at the fabric. You can’t get your body to work enough to pull it off. 
A pathetic whine leaves your lips as the door opens again. You’re still tugging at your shirt, writhing in your attempts to both remove the offending fabric from your skin and also get some relief for the pulsing between your thighs. 
“Alpha...” You whine, vision zeroing in on your alpha as he stands there, staring at you with dark eyes. 
“Look at you.” He rasps, taking slow steps closer and closer to you. 
Another whine falls from your lips as you reach out for him, desperate to feel him against you, like his very touch could ease the fire burning beneath your skin. Your arm is shaking by the time he reaches you, his fingers brushing against your hand. A content purr rumbles in your chest as he finally touches you, rough fingers tracing your palm before continuing down the inside of your arm. A shiver shakes your body at the feeling of his rough calluses against your sensitive skin. You wish those fingers would go elsewhere, your mouth watering at the thought of them between your thighs again. 
“Alpha,” You whine again as he grips your upper arm, yanking you up. 
In one fluid motion he sits on your bed, tugging your body onto his lap. His arms wrap around you, holding you against him, your slick dribbling onto the front of his pants. A quiet sound rumbles in his chest, his pupils dilating as his alpha begins to come out, his alpha responding to the thick scent of your pheromones in the room. 
You press against him, but it’s not enough. You need to feel him, his skin against yours, the prickling of the hair on his chest against your sensitive skin. His hands trail up your sides, the drag of the fabric of your shirt against your skin making you whine. You need to feel him, not the synthetic material separating you. He slides his hands all the way up, skirting past your breasts and sensitive nipples to grip the neck of the shirt, ripping it down the center. 
Your omega purrs happily at the display of strength, a quiet sigh leaving your lips as he pushes the shirt from your shoulders, freeing you from the overwhelming sensation. His hands flatten against your back, a content purr leaving your lips at the feeling of his skin against yours. You arch into him, pressing your hips against the prominent bulge in his pants. Your fingers tug at his own shirt, but you lack the strength to tear it off him, even as you paw at the fabric. You likely wouldn’t have been able to anyway outside the throes of your heat. 
“Needy little thing.” He purrs, nipping at your bottom lip. 
You chase his lips, kissing him harshly. His fingers dig into your back as you push your tongue into his mouth, licking at his own tongue. Your thighs clench around his hips at the thought of that tongue between your legs, more slick soaking the front of his pants as it gushes out of you. 
His hands slide down to grip your hips, dragging your slit along the front of his jeans. You moan at the delicious friction, pulling away from his mouth to kiss down his throat. His beard tickles your skin as he tilts his head, bearing his throat to you. A low growl rumbles through your chest as he allows himself to be in such a vulnerable position. You’re shaking in his arms as he guides your hips to grind against his pants, legs clenching around his hips. You’re close, the pulsing beneath your veins getting stronger and stronger. 
“Gonna cum like this?” He growls, his grip almost bruising on your hips. “Without me even touching you? Make yourself cum and I’ll give you what you need.” 
Your heat-addled brain somehow comprehends his words, picking out the parts it needs as you shift on his lap, dragging your clit against the seam of his jeans. Your face presses against his throat, devouring his scent straight from the source. It goes right to your head, the earthy scent nearly indistinguishable from the musk of his rut. 
Your body shudders as your first orgasm rocks you, slick gushing out of you like a tidal wave. You sink your teeth into his shoulder, fingers digging into his skin. 
“Son of a-” He curses, delivering a harsh slap to your bare ass. “Fuckin’ naughty little omega.” 
You grin, lapping at the teeth marks you’ve left on his skin as you press your ass into his hand. Your orgasm has provided a little relief, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough. Not until you have his knot inside you. 
You tug at his shirt again, bunching the fabric in your hands. “Off.” You whine, desperate to feel his skin against yours. 
He finally acquiesces, pushing you back far enough to tug his shirt off. Drool drips down your chin as you stare at the skin now exposed to you. You can’t help yourself as you lean forward, licking your way across his collarbones and his chest. You slide off his lap, kneeling between his legs as you lick your way down his chest, dragging your tongue across his soft stomach. 
He grips the back of your neck, pulling you away from his skin. Your tongue is still sticking out, almost like it’s trying to taste every last bit of him that might be in the air. “Fuck.” He groans, pushing you back as he moves to stand. 
You grab his hand before he can fully stand, tugging with surprising strength. He falls into you, both of you falling back onto the floor in a mess of limbs. Your omega scratches in the back of your brain, your gaze sharpening as you wrestle with him, finally managing to pin him on the floor. 
His eyes are almost black, a dangerous growl rumbling in his chest. Slick dribbles out of you, smearing on his stomach as you return his growl, baring your teeth at him. You want him to submit, you need him to submit to you. Your omega doesn't care about the obvious challenge, the stupidity of trying to control a rutting alpha. 
Yet, he goes lax beneath you, his gaze still sharp and cautious as he stares at you. 
Your growl softens into a purr as he relaxes, submitting to you for a moment. You bend down again, your tongue flattening against his skin once more. Your eyes are locked on his as you lick the beading sweat on his chest, purring at the saltiness of it on your tongue. You continue your way down his body, following the path down his chest and across his stomach. His eyes leave yours, watching the wiggle of your bare ass as you crawl backwards, continuing to lick across his stomach until you reach the puddle of shiny slick streaked across his skin. 
He lets out a rumbling purr as you lap at your own slick. It’s sweet from your pheromones, yet there’s the familiar tang of your natural taste on your tongue as you clean the mess you’ve made on your alpha’s skin. 
As soon as you deem his skin clean enough you continue downward, licking at the waistband of his jeans. Your fingers are shaking as you paw at his pants, trying to get your fingers to work to remove the last barrier between you. You need your alpha’s cock, you need to see it, to taste it. Your mouth is watering as you fumble helplessly, unable to handle such fine motor skills when all your brain is screaming to do is fuck. 
He pushes your hands out of the way, undoing his pants easily. He wiggles them down enough until his cock has sprung free, heavy and almost throbbing on his stomach. You stare at it wide eyed, drool slipping down your chin as you stare at it. You need it, you need his knot now, the burning under your skin intensifying from how close you are to finally getting what you need. You wrap your hand around his heavy length, the tip already leaking as you lean down, dragging your tongue from his balls to the tip. He lets out a groan as you close your lips around the head, flicking your tongue across his slit. 
You hold his gaze, dragging your tongue across his head once more before lifting yourself and shifting over his hips. You hold his gaze as you drag his cock through your folds, your needy brain searching for the spot you need. You let out a whine as you find it, his head catching on your entrance. You don’t hesitate, a long, desperate sounding whine falling from your lips as you sink down onto his length. 
It goes in easily, your body opening to him eagerly, your slick aiding the process as it gushes down the length of his cock. You make it halfway before pausing, breathing for a moment before you sink the rest of the way down. 
Your pussy flutters around him, a whimper leaving your lips. You could cum just like this, just from the stretch of his cock inside of you. It’s still not enough, it’s still not what you need, but it does ease the ache throbbing in your pelvis. 
He lays there, eyes hooded as he watches you, content to let yourself use him in your needy state for now. Your hands press against his stomach as he sinks almost impossibly deep inside you, your hips settling against his. He reaches up, pressing against the bulge in your pelvis, your hips jerking at the shock of pleasure that thrums through you. 
He lets out a pleased rumble as you squeeze around him, slick dribbling out around the base of his cock. “Be a good omega, take what you need.” He commands, his alpha rough around the edges of his voice. 
Your hands press firmly against his stomach, using him for leverage as you begin to move, lifting your hips and then letting them drop. Quiet whimpers leave your lips with every movement as his cock drags along your walls. The ache in your bones is finally starting to ease, the burning itch beneath your skin fading. You rock on your alpha’s cock, using his body for your pleasure as he lays there, content to watch you. 
The low rumble in his chest vibrates through you, inaudible under your desperate whines and the squelch of your pussy on his cock, but you can feel it in your hands, your subconscious picking up on it in a way you can’t understand. It only adds to the pleasure coursing through you, your clit throbbing from the friction against his jeans earlier. 
You’re tired, your legs shaking as you begin to slow down. The need pulsing through you is strong, but your heat-addled body is not. You whine desperately as you grind on his cock, seeking out any sort of pleasure you can get as your legs give out, too exhausted and weak to continue. 
“What’s the matter?” John says, lips pulling up in a smirk. “Poor little omega getting tired? Can’t fuck herself on my cock anymore?” 
“Please...” You whine, nearly crying in desperation. “Need your knot alpha.” 
“Then take it.” He says, not making any move to help you. 
“Can’t,” You whine. “Need you to do it. Need you to take care of me.” 
He lets out a growl at your confession, his hands finally moving to your hips. He pulls you off of his cock, flipping you around so you’re on your knees, upper body pressed against the floor. You push your ass up as high as you can for him, presenting for your alpha. He lets out a pleased rumble, his fingers dragging through your slick coated slit. You whine needily, pushing back against his hand. 
“Easy.” He says, pressing close behind you. “Alpha’s got you.” 
Your eyes nearly roll back as he sinks into you again, the change in position nearly making you see stars as he begins fucking in you, the snap of his hips against yours rocking your body on the carpet. Your knees burn but you can hardly feel it as he fucks you through an orgasm, your walls clenching desperately around his cock. Your brain is going hazy again as you feel the swelling at the base of his cock pushing up against your entrance, drool pooling on the carpet beneath you as you wait for it, wait for him to push his knot inside you and tie the two of you together. 
“Alpha...alpha...” You chant the title like a mantra, the sounds slurring together as you push back against him. 
“Take it,” He grunts, his fingers digging into your hips as he holds you steady in place. He pushes against you, his knot stretching your pussy as he begins pushing it into you. “Take it...good girl.” 
You whine as his knot pops into place, your body shuddering with another orgasm from the gaping stretch around him. He grinds his hips against you, his knot tugging at the entrance of your pussy as you clench tightly around him. He cums with a groan, his body falling over yours as he spurts his seed into you. You lay there, whining and panting beneath him, sweat still dripping down your back. 
Your brain is starting to float away, your mind going hazy again, but you’re not fighting it this time. You’re giving into your instincts, unable to do anything but submit to them, submit to your alpha. 
“I’ve got you.” Price says softly, gently brushing the sweaty strands of hair from your face that have fallen loose from your braid. 
You give into the haze, trusting him to take care of you. 
Tumblr media
You’re not sure when you moved to the bed. It’s the crackle of the mattress protector that’s pulled you from your haze for a moment. One of those rare moments of clarity post-knot as you come back into your brain enough to be semi-aware of your surroundings. You won’t remember it by the time you come out of your heat, lost in the mush of hazy memories from the week. 
Your pussy is pulsing around John’s knot, his chest pressed into your back. You still feel hot, feverish as you lay there half out of it. John’s right arm is under you, wrapped around so his hand is against your chest. He’s holding the cap of an electrolyte bottle in his right hand, the plastic cool against your heated skin. 
There’s hands moving in front of you, pulling a charging cord from one phone to put it in the other. There’s voices, but you’re too far in the haze to understand what they’re saying. There’s a scent in the air, clearer and softer than the heavy musk that’s settled in the room. It goes straight to your head, nearly making you black out again. You want to taste it, your tongue darting out to lick your lips. 
Your hand shoots out, surprising even you with how fast it’s moved. Your brain feels slow as it tries to catch up with the movement, your fingers wrapped around someone’s wrist. Your hand has a mind of its own as it pulls the wrist closer, pressing it against your face. 
A soft, fresh scent fills your nose, your eyes fluttering as it pulses through you, your pussy convulsing around John’s knot. He groans behind you, his hips shifting just slightly in response. Your tongue darts out, licking at the wrist pressed against your face, trying to taste the scent. 
Salty, briney, fresh. The sea, you remember from the haze in your mind. It smells like the sea. You continue to lick it, wanting it to consume you, to sink into your brain and ease the aching need. 
“Careful, love.” A soft voice says, cutting through the scent-induced haze you’re in. 
The attached body tries to pull the wrist in your grip away, but you let out a whine, fingers tightening around it as you pull it closer. You drag your tongue against the skin again, letting out a quiet whine. You need it, your hand trembling around his wrist. 
The word feels heavy on your tongue, your heat-addled, scent drunk brain trying to form it on your lips, pushing it from your mind until it vibrates in the air audibly. The process feels like it takes minutes, when in reality it was likely only seconds. You tug on the wrist again, trying to bring the source closer. 
“Stay.” 
NEXT ->
Tumblr media
@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @protokosmonaut
@fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites
@kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos
@konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13
@anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry
@red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving
@slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @ttsbaby01
@heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006
@sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164
@mirzamsaiph @xlxnq @chickennn-soupp
2K notes · View notes
braindeadjaidyn · 2 months ago
Note
Rafe following his babysitter into the bathroom
Fucking her against the door, holding her mouth closed with his hand
His family just outside in the living room, while he is fing her as hard as he can
BABYSITTERS CLUB!
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
summary:..-> reader and rafe always had a thing for each other. everything changes once she picks up a babysitting job, babysitting the one and only kook king.
warnings:..-> smut, p n v, bad dirty words, wards a douche, rough sex, rushed sex, both cum quick:(, sex that could’ve got them caught?? EVERYONE IS OF AGE!!!
word count:..-> 2700.
a/n:..-> hello pookie and pookies! okay so don’t be mad….i know I didn’t do the bathroom but I hope this okay! i got tunnel vision and didn’t even realize! im sorry if i edged yall with the constant build up. yall writing sex is HARD. anyway requests are open bye love u. AND BE NICE.
Tumblr media
It was almost laughable that Rafe fucking Cameron, kook king needed a babysitter. It WAS laughable. Ward Cameron had contacted you through Facebook knowing of the fact you babysit. Yeah, you did, but not 20-year-old frat guys.
Ward Cameron: Hello Y/n! Your father told me you do babysitting and I’m looking to hire one for tonight! It would be for my son and daughter, it may seem a little odd. My apologies. I will be having some important meetings with a large group, and I don’t trust either to be on their best behavior. Please contact me back so we can discuss further! I’ll pay 500$ for 3 hours.
The message sent you into a fit of cackles, screenshotting the text and sending it to all your friends. The idea was so tempting. So fucking tempting. 500$ for 3 hours was a literal steal…Yet you were going to be in the presence of the insufferable Rafe Cameron. You hadn’t had many interactions with Rafe, he usually just teased you for being the ‘prude good girl’ every time you told him no to hook up. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t think about letting him fuck the shit out of you, hell you almost did. Every time you’d open your mouth to try and agree he’d open his spewing his bullshit, immediately forcing you to shut your own.
You bit at the soft flesh on your bottom lip, tapping the phone with your eyes trained on the text. Fuck it. 500$ for keeping the cocky frat boy in line sounded so good, so so fucking good. You agreed, and your thumbs moved quickly over the screen. Your lip was still tucked firmly between your teeth as you waited for his father’s reply.
Y/n L/n: That sounds good! Thank you so much Mr. Cameron! I’ll be there. When should I be there and can I have the address?
Ward Cameron: Of course Y/n! My meeting is in about 40 minutes, I would like you here as soon as possible. I will be here the whole time so I’ll give you a rundown of responsibilities and such when you arrive. *address*.
This soon? You immediately scrambled to your feet, throwing on some more appropriate clothes than your lounge ones. You were so quick you thought your heels were on fire.
Soon enough here you were on the Camerons porch knocking on the front door. Jesus, why did you agree to this? Fuck. The only time you ever interacted with Rafe was when you were fucked up, now here you were sober about to babysit the grown-ass man. This is ridiculous. The door swung open, of fucking course Rafe Cameron was the one to answer it. Sporting his stupid handsome smirk and backward cap. “You’re the one who’s keepin’ me on a leash tonight girl?” He drawled, flashing you his teeth.
Goddamn, his fucking fine ass. You tongued the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at his comment. With a tilt of your head and a soft huff, you finally met his gaze. “Just shut up and let me in Cameron,” With that Rafe chuckled, shaking his head as he moved from the door opening it further. You could feel his sharp stare as you walked past him and into the house. You were a little in awe at the niceness but quickly masked it, tucking your face back into its resting expression. Rafe didn’t miss it as he sidestepped around you, his smirk only growing.
“You never been in a house this nice princess?,” Rafe taunted, his smirk replaced with a smug smile.”Come on, my dad’s in here,” He led you further into the home, and you lagged behind. Cursing him internally at his snarky comments. Why was this dude such a diva? You followed aimlessly looking around at the different decor, this was so different from your own house.
Ward Cameron sat on the sofa, his attention on the laptop resting on the marble coffee table, his fingers working against the keys. He just looked like a dick, great….Rafe cleared his throat and shifted on his feet. You picked up his sudden change in demeanor, his once arrogant self replaced with a look that looked like a kicked puppy. It was sad, actually very sad. But you shrugged off your sympathy as Ward glanced up his face lighting up in foe friendliness. “Y/n my dear. Thank you for coming,” Ward greeted, closing the distance between the three. “Right well, I'm having a large meeting this evening. Lots of colleagues and other investors are joining me today. We will be using the living room, my office would be far too cramped. I’m just asking you to keep an eye on everyone and out of the living room.”
This man just screamed condescending. You nodded, sending him a soft smile. Once again you fought the urge to roll your eyes, how did he expect his grown son to listen to her? He was Rafe Cameron. It was widely known he doesn’t listen to anyone. “Yes sir, I can do that.” You spoke softly and sweetly, it was an act yet you wanted that 500$. Rafe sent you another smirk before he licked his lips to keep his dirty comment to himself. Ward nodded, reaching out to softly pat your shoulder. He quickly pulled away, and you fought the urge to jerk away. “Great! Well, Rafe behave. You’re 20 years old. It’s ridiculous that I had to even hire her.” Ward shot his son a pointed look, which made Rafe emotionally cower. Rafe just firmly nodded, his arms folded over his chest. You had to divert your gaze, your cheeks heating as you noticed how his shirt sleeves were straining against his muscles. Fuck.
A firm rushed knock at the front door thankfully interrupted your sinful thoughts. Ward immediately jerked his head to the noise, moving past the young adults. “Right, that's my meeting. So see you both later.” Ward called as he barely bothered looking over his shoulder at the two. He disappeared out of the living, and you could feel Rafe's eyes on you. Jesus Christ, does he have an off button? You met his gaze, surprised to see it was blank. “What?” You questioned, your face slightly twisted and your eyebrow arched.
Rafe just sighed deeply, running his hand over his cap. “Let’s get upstairs before he throws a bitch fit,” Rafe muttered, his body already moving toward and up the stairs. You followed, your heart beating wildly. It felt weird how domestic? No. Casual. Yeah, how casual this was. His long legs ate away at the distance of the stairs, you lagged behind feeling a little awkward by everything. I mean you’re fucking babysitting Rafe Cameron and his little sister, it was weird. You made your way to the top of the steps, glancing at him awkwardly for his next move. You could already hear the chatter from the men downstairs.
“Quit actin’ all fuckin shy girl, Les’ go Sarah’s in here,” Rafe smirked his head cocking over to a door, his hand pulling the door open. “How’s it hangin’ Sar?,” You were now standing in the doorway of what you assumed was a movie room, you knew they were rich but they were richhh. Sarah barely glanced up from her phone at the duo, shrugging her shoulders in response. Rafe plopped down on one of the sofas, legs spread open as he looked you over. “Sooo, are you always this weird when you're sober princess?”
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his words. He was so damn cocky and for what? You scowled at him, your pretty face twisting. “Do you always need a babysitter at your grown age?” You snarked, your hands crossing over your chest and you shifted your weight to your hip. Rafe took notice of that and eyed your hip for a moment, chuckling as he tongued the inside of his cheek.
“Real cute baby, don’t be throwin’ that up in my face.” Rafe rasped, his eyes looking over you cocking his brow at the fact you were still standing in the doorway. He patted the cushion next to him, a smirk on his lips. “Don’t be shy princess, I won't bite.”
You thought for a moment before begrudgingly plopping yourself down next to him. It was a small couch, so small you were brushing thighs with him. You averted your gaze as you felt your cheeks flush at the contact. You knew he was planning something, you could feel it in his stares. Rafe was planning something, more so just thinking about fucking you stupid over the armrest of the couch. He was going to hell for what he was about to ask, especially with Sarah in the room. He leaned forward, bracing his hand on the top of the couch. Rafe's chest was flush against your shoulder, his head ducked down by your ear fanning his breath down your neck. “Why won’t you let me fuck you princess?”
His words sent a shiver down your spine, his breath sending your mind into overdrive. You bit your lip, adjusting your skirt to try and compose yourself. You were bright red and you could feel it, you could also feel the ache between your legs at his tone. You had to remind yourself Sarah was in the room. You looked over at him and felt like you could melt when you met his smug gaze. “I mean..I-I would-,“ Your voice was low and quiet, careful for Sarah's listening ears, but before you could finish Sarah's dramatically loud groan and the thump of her phone cut you off. You were so down bad.
“The fuc- The wifi just went out, ugh. Rafe fix it,” Sarah whined, looking at her older brother with pleading eyes. The only issue was the router was in the living room. Rafe sighed deeply at the interruption, glancing over at Sarah with narrowed eyes.
Rafe definitely couldn’t go down there and fuck with the router with his dad having a meeting. It was the whole point why Y/n was there. But he could get her downstairs and alone…So tempting in his pervy brain and worth a shot. “Fine. Come on Y/n. Be my cover.”
Seriously? He was going to go down there, practically asking for a meltdown from his dad. Before you could protest he had you by the forearm and dragged you out of the movie room. “Rafe-“ You went to speak but he cut you off as he pressed his finger to his lips, silently shushing you as the two of you crept down the stairs. You both met at the bottom of the stairs, the living room just around the corner, a wall protecting the view of the duo. The laughs and voices of multiple men were slightly muffled from the distance.
You crept forward, keeping close to the wall not without shooting Rafe a pointed look. You were falling right into his dirty trap, just like he wanted. His mind only focused on fucking that cunt and your interrupted words. Before you could peek over the corner he pressed your back flush against the wall, his body eliminating the distance as he pressed his front to yours. He smirked down at you, his eyes roving over you like you were prey. “Finish your sentence, pretty girl.” He commanded, his voice low, careful to not attract anyone’s attention.
Your mouth opened to speak but the words were lost in your throat. Your mind was spinning at the closeness, your pussy was practically pleading. You could only hold his intense stare, his hand snaking around to grip the back of your thigh. “Say it. Tell me you want this dick baby.” Rafe cooed his mouth coming to your ear, his lips brushing the skin. Fuck this. You were already soaked from his touch, his words only increased the throb. You couldn’t believe what you were about to do, but it was Rafe fucking Cameron…
You nodded weakly, hands fisting his shirt as you lifted the thigh he grasped. “I want it, please.” You wanted to smack yourself for the desperation in your tone, but you never wanted to get fucked like you did now. Rafe pounced, his lips immediately crashing into yours. It was sloppy and full of need. God, he kissed like a fucking whore. You couldn’t help but mewl against his lips, your body felt like it was on fire. His hands were everywhere, leaning his body against yours as his hands grabbed the flesh of your ass from under your skirt. Which earned him another soft mewl, yet it was muffled by his soft lips. He rutted himself against you, god this was so nasty. So down bad. But you were fucking loving it. So was Rafe.
He pulled away, his chest heaving with heavy deep breaths. His lips were wet, and he looked sinful. You moved your hands to the waistband of his shorts, working away the button and zipper. You couldn't help it truly. Rafe liked your eagerness, his ego inflated as well as his dick. “Needy fuckin’ girl.” Rafe tsked lowly, assisting you as he tugged away down his shorts, his hands moving to the waistband of his boxers, he couldn’t help but smirk at your reaction to the tent in his boxers. Your eyes were wide, pretty lips parted in need. He freed himself from the boxers, fisting his cock as he looked you over. Fuck. He was so hot. You took this as your cue, you moved your panties to the side. This wasn’t the best spot to get caught fully exposed…
“Rafe…What if someone- fuck- mph-“ You whispered, cut off by Rafe thrusting his cock into you his hand clamping over your mouth. He kept his other hand on the back of your thigh, as he pounded into you. His cock was moving in your slick walls at a relentless pace, his fat tip brushing areas you never knew existed.
Rafe had his lips parted, his head hung back as your pussy clenched tightly around him. He kept his hand firmly clasped around your mouth, he smooshed the side of your face into the wall, his cock fucking into you at an unforgiving pace. The sound of your pelvis’s kissing was sinful. “Take it, take this fat dick,” Rafe growled lowly, his eyes glancing to the corner of the wall as he heard a couple of men speak louder.
You couldn’t even muster a response, let alone voice it due to his harsh grip around your mouth. You could only pathetically whine and cry against his palm, as his cock brushed that spongy spot deep into you. Your teeth grazed the flesh of his hand as he repositioned his thrusts, fucking you upwards against the wall. You clawed at his arms, your cunt squeezing tightly around his cock. God, you couldn’t believe how close he had gotten you so quickly. Your lower stomach burned with need, your core aching for release. You could tell Rafe was close, his brows knitted and his lip tucked between his teeth. His cock twitched in your velvety walls, he dropped his hand from your thigh moving his fingers to firmly rub your clit. You bit at the flesh of his hand, hoping to muffle your screams as you crashed over the edge. Your body trembling, eyes rolled back as you made a mess on his fat cock. You clamped down on his cock as Rafe let out a deep groan, planting his cock deep into you as he painted your womb with his warm cum. Your chest heaved with fast shaky breaths, you just let Rafe Cameron fuck you against a wall, while his father and however many men were on the other side.
Rafe pulled out of you, a sly smile on his lips. He pulled your panties back to the side and tucked himself back into his boxers with a chuckle. He held your wide blown-out gaze as he pulled his shorts up. “You’re a shit babysitter princess.”
Tumblr media
892 notes · View notes
adragonprinceswhore · 6 months ago
Text
Soft & Hard
Tumblr media
Aemond Targaryen x Ex Girlfriend
Summary: How do you forget about Aemond Targaryen when he’s everywhere you look?
Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, emotional infidelity, descriptions of self-hatred, situationship, intoxication, smut, heavy petting, drunk sex, P in V, (some) size kink
Word Count: 4000
A/N: This has been plaguing my mind for weeks now, so I really needed to get it out of me and into the world. This can be read as a continuation of my Hockey player Aemond drabble, but can also be read as a standalone. Aemond is a hockey player in this modern AU! 🩵
Tumblr media
You prop your feet up to rest on the sides of your bathtub, angling the shower head just right so it hits that spot that sends pleasurable shivers rippling through your body.
Your eyes are closed, and you’re desperately trying to visualise the hot guy from the TV series you’d just binged; mind racing through any arousing scenario you can come up with.
It’s not an easy task; keeping yourself occupied enough to not drift towards the very man you’ve vainly tried to erase from your memory. 
You don’t want to think about him. 
Thinking about him always leads to missing him. 
It leads to longing for him. 
No matter how badly he hurt you. No matter how much you rationalise your reasons for leaving, your stupid heart yearns to fill the hole he’s left behind. 
Pathetic.
You shut your eyes with more force, thinking of the hot TV character. Upping the pressure of the shower head, you imagine it’s him going down on you that’s causing the pleasure building inside. Your hips begin to shallowly sway back and forth, and low whimpering moans slip from your lips. 
As the pleasure builds and builds, the image in your head morphs; the hot TV guys’ hair turns silver, no matter how hard you try to stay focused. 
You’re close, so close, and just as you’re on the edge of pleasure, you hear him,
“You’re so pretty like this”
And you cum so hard you drop the showerhead in your grip, legs shaking as your hips jerk upward aggressively. 
Water sprays across the bathroom as the shower head falls, but you’re too lost in your own bliss to truly care, giving yourself a moment to just disappear into the fleeting, fierce pleasure consuming you. 
After a while, when your legs have stopped shaking and your cunt has stopped clenching around nothing, you turn the rampant shower head off with a sigh. 
The satisfaction of your orgasm is short-lived, promptly followed by the lonely reality of you chasing pleasure alone in your bathroom. You could stay in the tub and make yourself cum 10 more times and it wouldn’t change the loneliness residing inside of you. 
You could try to picture that hot guy from the show fucking you for hours, still you’d feel the same. 
Still, visions of him would cloud your mind. And the chill of loneliness would penetrate your bones, as it does right now. 
Because no one kisses your forehead afterwards, or holds you tight, or whispers sweet things into your ear. 
You're alone, and the warm water quietly splashing around you doesn’t stop the cold porcelain of your bathtub from chilling your heated flesh. 
You shiver. 
Sick of yourself; of your self-pity and hatred, you leave the tub and throw on a dressing gown, already on a search for a new distraction. 
Anything to take your mind off Aemond Targaryen. 
Tumblr media
Forgetting Aemond was nearly impossible. 
Not only did your mind remind you of your heart’s longing for the man that broke it. The world did as well. Like when you overheard your colleagues discussing his latest game, and how skillfully he tackled his opponents, landing a blow on them so precise yet hard that they flew into the rink. Or when you got home after a long day and turned on the TV, greeted by him giving a post-match interview all sweaty and panting. 
The only way you knew him. 
Being restricted to seeing the man you’d spent countless nights together with through the TV screen has brought you to the conclusion that ultimately, your relationship hasn’t changed much. 
Sure, you don’t send him nudes anymore. Nor does he fuck you into the mattress of whichever hotel room he brings you to. 
But the distance is the same. The loneliness isn’t new; it always existed between the two of you. He never really cared to let you in. 
You were convenient. 
Pliable. 
An easy fuck. 
You should’ve realised it sooner. Like that time when Alicent Hightower, Westerosi socialite and Aemond’s mother, stopped by one of his practices. You were helping him lace his skates when she appeared, and as soon as he noticed his mum approaching, Aemond’s large hand gently but firmly pushed you away. 
Ms. Hightower’s curious gaze had asked about you, and her son huffed out, “She’s an acquaintance”
An acquaintance. 
Not even a friend. 
To you, Aemond was the first thing you thought about in the morning, and the last thing you thought about before going to sleep. 
To him, you were an acquaintance. 
Pathetic. 
That should have been the last straw. But you kept seeing him. Not even the humiliation and hurt you felt as you excused yourself and ran to the bathroom with tears in your eyes could stop you from craving him. That was the power he had over you.
The power he still has over you, even in his absence. Even if you blocked his number 6 months ago and haven’t seen him once since. 
The actual last straw was a message you’d gotten from an unknown number, asking if you’d send more of those “hot slutpics in dat black thong”. For a second you thought it was Aemond having a laugh, but the message didn’t sound like him, and he isn’t exactly known for being a guy that appreciates humour, or ‘pranks’.
Turns out, the number belonged to Aegon Targaryen, Aemond’s older brother and notorious fuckboy. Word around King’s Landing was that every girl who’d slept with him had gotten chlamydia, and still he seems to find a new conquest to throw his arms around each weekend. 
Perhaps the sleaziest guy in the Seven Kingdoms.
Turns out, it runs in the family. 
You blocked Aemond’s number that night. After swearing to never let your desire for him get the best of you again, you begged your friends to take you out and get you so shitfaced the humiliation Aemond had inflicted on you would be washed away. 
It didn’t work.
You’re still tainted by his touch. 
So you switch tactics. You look for someone else. 
About a month after you’d called things off with Aemond, you thought you’d found a good replacement. A nice, inconspicuous guy who was eager to please; eager to make you like him. You would’ve felt guilty, really, if the dark hole of lonely self-hatred in your chest didn’t outweigh your selfishness. 
And still, Aemond Targaryen was everywhere. 
You’d find him in that adoring look your new partner gave you as you sucked him off in the shower. You’d find him in bed, when you couldn’t sleep and imagined it was Aemond’s heavy arms holding you tight. You’d find him in your fantasies, seemingly incapable of coming with your new partner unless you closed your eyes and pretended the short, curly strands greeting your hand between your legs were actually long, silky and silver. 
Ultimately, your conscience caught up with you, and you broke things off with the new guy as well. He had told you that he loved you, and the sweetest of confessions felt like the sharpest of needles prickling your heart. 
Aemond never said it. 
Oh, how you wish it was him saying it. 
Sometimes, even after six months of not seeing him, you’re still surprised by how incredibly piteous he’s rendered you. 
Yearning for a man who only saw you as a plaything. Who only ever cared for you when you were conveniently there for him to do as he pleased with. Who refused to expose your relationship to his mother, and shared your nudes with his brother. 
Fucking prick. 
Tumblr media
Today’s Friday. 
Single and lonelier than ever, you beg your friends to go out dancing with you. It’s become your new weekend ritual; go out and dance until your feet hurt and you’re so tired you collapse on your bed, mind delightfully empty. 
Now, you're back on the dancefloor, drink in hand, eyes closed as you sway to the music. 
You always drag your friends to the same place, The Three Towers, a nightclub of the slightly more exclusive kind, with proper DJs and strong drinks. 
They must’ve figured out by now that it was Aemond who introduced you to this place. You see it in the pitiful looks they give you every time you insist on coming here instead of going to any of the many other places in Oldtown. Their eyes say what you’ve known to be true for over six months;
Pathetic. 
It’s not like Aemond likes to go out anyway. He hates crowds, dislikes strangers, loathes the fake people gathering around him to tell him empty words of adoration. 
But that one time you’d wanted to go dancing, he’d brought you here. 
Maybe he brings all his “acquaintances” here. 
You tell yourself that you don’t come here for him, that it just happens to be a great place, but still, every time you catch a glimpse of something silvery in the corner of your eye, dread punches you in the gut. 
Why do you seek him out when you know actually meeting him would destroy you? What if you saw him here with another girl? Maybe one of the models his brother so often gifts his infected cock to? 
Tumultuous thoughts swirl in your mind until you notice that the flash of silver isn’t Aemond’s hair at all, and ease settles over you. Well, something akin to ease. The self-hatred is still there,
Pathetic. 
Your feet quickly carry you to the bar, eager for more of the numbness only alcohol provides. You order another G&T and almost spit it out after the first sip; it’s basically all gin.
Good.
You take three large gulps and move back to the dancefloor, searching for your friends who you’ve lost in the crowd of intertwined bodies. 
You scan your surroundings, and then it happens again. A flash of silver. Only this time, it’s him. 
You remember the first time you saw him. TV appearances and watching him on the ice doesn’t do him justice. In person, his ethereal beauty’s blinding. Just like it is now. One of the spotlights over the sofa he sits on hits his hair, causing it to glow like the beacon of a dark night at sea. 
Calling you in. 
Your feet work by themselves as they walk towards him. You panic, desperately searching for any excuse to talk to him. 
What do you say? 
Suddenly you’re right before him, drink in one hand and the other nervously touching your hair as you dumbly stare at him. He looks up from the drink in his hand, a whiskey on the rocks you’d guess, and meets your eyes. 
His gaze is cold and stoic. 
Unimpressed. 
He raises an expectant eyebrow. 
And yet you say nothing. All the witty, insightful, hard-hitting truths you’d wanted to tell him for the last six months vanish as you stand before him frozen in panic. 
Pathetic.
Pathetic. 
Pathetic!
You have nothing. Your mind’s empty, the only thing you can do is feel. Feel the self-hatred, the loneliness, the insecurity he’s inflicted upon you. 
He rolls his eyes. Aemond’s not known for his patience, “If you’re looking for that new boyfriend of yours, he’s not here”
“I don’t have a boyfriend”, you blurt out, prompted by the shiver running through you caused by the venom dropping from his words. He sounds so hateful. 
He stands abruptly, forcing you to take a faltering step back as he tower over you,
“Come”
He takes the drink in your hand and places it on a nearby table before grabbing your hand and leading you out of the rowdy club. The chill of the night air hits your scarcely clad body as he drags you towards a cab waiting outside, your ears still ringing from the loud music in the club.
He opens the door and pushes on your arm to get in. His touch is still impossibly warm; just as you remember it. 
He slams the door shut and walks around to the other side, getting in and grunting an address you’ve never heard of to the taxi driver.  
You know your friends would be furious if they knew who you left with, so you send them a quick text stating that you’ve left ‘cause you didn’t feel well. 
You place your phone back in your purse and look outside. It seems like you’re driving towards the north part of the city, a place you hardly know. 
The deafening silence in the taxi is so tense, any sane person would ask the driver to stop and get out in a heartbeat. 
Aemond, sitting next to you with his jaw clenched and fidgeting with his customised black and red lighter, sends nervous ripples of fear through your being. You know he’s contemplating something, yet you wouldn’t dare ask. 
Any sensible person would get out. 
But you can’t. 
Because he still smells the same. And it’s everywhere in the stuffy cab. And your heart hurts, a tear threatens to spill, because you’ve missed it all so much; his smell, his hair, his voice, his touch. 
Him.
The silence persists, until you're finally freed as the taxi driver stops and Aemond hands him a few copper stars. 
You get out and take a deep breath of the late summer night's air. The buzz of alcohol still clouds your judgement somewhat, yet you feel more aware of yourself than ever before. 
You look around and see Aemond approach the entrance to a sleek building in that brutalist, modern design, and you follow in tow. He still hasn’t said anything, and neither have you.
You get in a lift, go up to the top floor, and enter a dark flat with only a small table lamp lit by the entrance, obscuring your view of the place. 
Just as you make way to move further into the room, Aemond hinders you. 
He doesn’t allow you entrance to the rest of the space, cornering you against a low side table by the entrance door. He’s so tall, and so broad, you disappear into the wall as he steals all the space around you. 
“Why did you agree to come with me?” 
He’s so close you feel his breath tickle your skin. It’s too dark to truly see the expression on his face, but the shadows cast on him makes him look stern. The smell of him intensifies. You feel warm.  
This is all you’ve wanted. All you’ve feared. 
You still desire him so.
“You told me to”
He’s quiet for a moment, and you know it’s because your reply’s caught him off guard. He’d assumed you’d fight back, jab at him in some way. He tries again,
“My mate saw you at that club last week, you know”
Is he keeping tabs on you? 
“What happened to your boyfriend?” 
How does he know about that? 
You swallow, “Nothing. It just wasn’t right” 
“Hm”
Your eyes are locked together, his mismatched gaze just as alluring as you remember it. Without looking away, he brings a hand up to gently stoke the cold skin of your arm. 
The harshness of his stare falters, 
“Did you miss me?” 
“Did you miss me?” 
The retort leaves your lips before you register it forming in your head. Can’t give in to him that easily. Can’t make your suffering known to the person causing it. 
The harshness reappears. 
“Did he fuck you the way you like?” 
His tone is cold, yet heated with anger. The same hateful tinge from before. 
Your drunk mind works without you operating it, 
“He wasn’t you”
The confession slips out, and so does the pitifulness. The loneliness. The pathetic mess you’ve become. 
Aemond didn’t expect your admission either, eyes narrowing in suspicion, 
“What do you mean?”
Is this the time? 
To tell him how utterly devastated you’ve been without him? How he plagues your mind? How your entire being is tainted by him? 
No. 
“Why did you bring me here?”, you ask, foggy mind finally cooperative enough to let you change the subject.
“Because you wanted me to”, he replies, the gentle hand on your arm suddenly travelling down to caress your exposed thigh before  harshly cupping your cunt. 
A startled gasp espaces your lips. 
His touch is so nostalgic it travels from your aroused core to your heart, and squeezes it painfully.  
His hand is big enough to cover you entirely, and with the heel of his palm, he pushes harshly where he knows your swollen clit lies obscured under your panties. His long finger taps against your hole, and he huffs a quiet, condescending laugh as he feels how moist the fabric is.
When did you get this wet? 
You feel the heat of his touch radiate from his palm to your cunt, so persistent it finds its way through your underwear. He only moves his hand to stroke you over the fabric and press at your clit, but the gratification of finally being granted his touch works you towards release at a speed you’d thought impossible. 
“Still a little slut for me”  
He brings two fingers up to press right over your clit, rough circles demanding that you obey his touch and come for him. 
His breathing hard through his nose, the look in his eye is hard to decipher, 
Arousal? 
Fury? 
Fuck it feels good to be pushed against a wall by him. To be subjected to his rough treatment. Anything to feel his touch on you again. 
Your hips move upwards to meet his fingers; you’re so close to falling apart. 
“You missed me. And that fucker you were seeing couldn’t compare to me. Isn’t that right?” 
He spits out the words, teeth grazing the shell of your ear as he leans even closer. 
Your arms have been hanging limply at your side, and you have to fight the sudden urge to grab him and press him against you. To feel him closer. 
“Did he make you this wet?”
Aemond’s tongue licks the sensitive spot behind your ear and you moan loudly, fully consumed by the way his fingers push you towards release. 
You angle your face so that his mouth is right by yours. With parted lips, you look up at him pleadingly, begging him to kiss you. 
Something in his eye shifts, and a victorious smirk breaks out over his face, 
“Come”
And you do. So hard you see stars and your legs give out. The pleasure is intense, it steals everything from you; your breath, your senses, your self-discipline. 
Your hands fly to Aemond’s biceps, anchoring yourself to him as your body twitches forcefully in the pleasure rupturing you. It’s cathartic; a long awaited release only his hands can coax out. 
When you come back to reality, to the dark hallway you're trapped against Aemond’s body in, the dreaded self-hatred you’d gotten to know so well makes itself known again. 
The brutal reality of exactly how far your pathetic infatuation with Aemond has driven you crashes over you like an ice-cold wave of regret. You feel hot tears well up in the corner of your eyes as they stay casted down, refusing to look up at the man who’s greatest pleasure in life seems to be to torment you. 
Why had he brought you here? Why did he enjoy hurting you? Why had you fallen for it? 
“What did I do to make you hate me so?” 
It’s the alcohol talking. Or maybe it’s the last thing you need to hear from him before you can finally let go. The last shard of your heart crushed in his grip. 
Silence is the only answer he gives you, and without looking up, you push him to move so you can get away from him. Instead of allowing you to leave, he brings one hand to your cheek, engulfing it in warmth, and drags your face upwards to meet his eyes. 
Before you can read his expression, he ducks his head down, letting his lips graze over yours. His tongue comes out to swipe over your lower lip in a slow, gentle caress that feels more sensual than anything you’ve ever experienced, and in retaliation your greedy arms pull him closer, eagerly kissing him back. There’s a slow urgency to the way his tongue seeks out yours, bending your body backwards to taste you deeper. You relish in it. 
You want him to eat you up. To devour you completely. You’re his anyway. 
Without breaking the kiss, Aemond leads you down the dark hallway and into a dimly lit room. The only thing you register is a large bed in the middle, where he takes a seat and keeps you standing between his legs, still kissing you. 
His hands roam over your body; over your exposed arms and legs. They find the zipper at the back of your dress and pull it down, slowly undressing you until you're completely bare. 
He stands for a brief moment to rid himself of his own clothes, and then sits again, guiding you to climb onto his lap. 
You follow his every command in enchantment. You grant him every kiss he seeks, allow him every touch he craves. He can have it all. 
He guides you to sink down on him slowly. You’re still so wet, yet he’s so hard your insides are forced to mould after his stiffness. 
Once he fills each part of you, he wraps your legs around his waist, sighing in satisfaction as he presses your body so close to his the skin of your torso sticks to his. 
“I won’t last long-”, he whispers into your ear, “-a 6 month wait is excruciating”
The touch that you’ve known as harsh and demanding is now so soft. So delicate it slowly picks up the shattered pieces of your broken heart and mends them together again with each gentle caress.
Your hands cup his cheeks, gazing into his lilac and blue stare as you slowly begin to move. 
Aemond doesn’t say anything, doesn’t say that one phrase that you want him to, but the look in his eyes is mesmerising. You’ve never seen him so vulnerable. It’s intimate.
He’s giving himself to you. 
You wrap your arms around him, accepting him. You want all of him, all to yourself. You’ve wanted him for half a year. You’ve wanted him since the first time you met him. 
He meets your hips each time you sink down, and the otherwise carnal pursuit for pleasure feels dreamlike as Aemond’s arms envelop you and you disappear into him. 
You want to say it, but not yet. You don’t dare. Would he retreat again? You know it to be true, but it’s too early. Maybe someday. 
Instead, it’s Aemond who speaks over the moans and sighs of pleasure,
“Don’t leave me again” 
You don’t know how long you fuck, but each orgasm feels more consuming, more powerful, than the last. Ultimately, you collapse together on the bed, legs and arms still intertwined. The familiarity of Aemond’s heavy arms over your waist soothes you, yet the soft sheets of the bed provide a stark contrast to the stiff, clinical sheets of the hotel rooms he’d always brought you to before. 
There’s nothing left between you, no more layers to shed, so you ask him about everything that had led up to your separation. About how he dismissed you in front of his mother, and about the text from his brother. The latter seems to genuinely surprise him, 
“I’ve never shared your pictures with anyone, especially not him” 
Guess Aegon Targaryen isn’t above snooping through his brother’s stuff. 
You talk all night, and Aemond tells you about his strained relationship with his family, “My family has an ability to ruin things for me”, he confesses, “I didn’t want that to happen with you”
As the rays of sunrise begin to seep through the window, you admit to the loneliness that’s been eating away at you since parting from Aemond. 
He cups your cheek again, thumb stroking your cheekbone,
“I fucked up. I’ve missed you more than I thought possible”
Your loneliness hadn’t been solitary. He’d felt it too. You’d shared it. 
You lay your head on his chest, listening to the slow drum of his heart. Before it lulls you to sleep, you remember the last thing you’d like to ask him,
“Aemond, where are we?”
“My place”
Tumblr media
A/N: I never know if I should write it as come or cum? After some studious research (not), I decided that come is the original and therefore works better! Thank you for reading, I write these drabble for fun to improve my writing, so don't be too harsh please 🫶🩵
1K notes · View notes
rowarn · 1 year ago
Note
I just know that after that night, Victoria tried to call ONCE. Why once tho? Because Simon answered the phone in the middle of a very intense session, whispering in reader's ear to moan louder for him. After she heard the loud noises and Simon's soft voice she never tried to call him again.
simon riley / reader — set in the please love me universe!
fucking while on a call, jealousy, creampie, possessive!reader, vocal!simon <3
you were completely lost in pleasure, eyes rolled back in your head with simon's large body blanketing yours. your hand was clasped tightly in one his as he rutted his hips slowly and deeply, making sure to angle his hips just right so he could hit that sweet, gooey little spot inside you that made your entire body shiver with pleasure.
simon was obsessed with forcing your body to show every bit of what you were feeling. holding you down so you couldn't do anything but twitch and shake, forcing you to look at him so he could see the way your eyes filled with tears when he hit a little too deep.
he's slowly working you up to your 3rd orgasm of the night when the spell between the two of you is completely broken by the shrill ringing of his cell phone on the bedside table.
both of you freeze. it's not the ringing that comes when someone from the task force contacts him. the two of you share a brief look of confusion before he reaches over and grabs the device off of the night table.
you could see the second his facial expression changed and a sense of alarm rushed through you.
"what is it, si?" you ask, tugging his hand down so you could see his screen.
the number was immediately familiar to you -- it was her again. victoria. her name burns as it goes through your head.
to your horror, simon slid the call button over and answered, ignoring the indignation on your face. there's a coy little smile playing at the edge of his lips and you want to wipe it off because it's making you angry.
you can hear her shrill voice yapping away the second he answers, pressing the speaker button and tossing the device onto the bed.
you try to tune in to what she's saying but he starts rutting his hips, grinding his pelvis against your clit while he's got his cock snug inside your gooey cunt.
your eyes roll back at the feeling and you can't help the way you gasp from how good it feels.
"that's it, baby," simon coos, sitting back on his heels so he can bring his thumb down to lightly pet the swollen bud of your clit. the makes you moan louder and you faintly hear her voice from the phone ask, "si? what are you doing?"
hearing her call him that - so familiarly, like she has any claim over him makes you seethe.
simon grins when he sees that jealous flare in your eyes. he thinks it's cute - that you of all people are jealous. don't you know that he's completely and utterly devoted to you?
he pulls out just a little bit only to stuff his cock back inside. that pulls a beautiful moan from you that makes her go silent on the line. she calls his name again, clearly growing more agitated and humiliated.
"c'mon, sweetheart," he coos to you, "hold your legs for me, let me get real deep, yeah?"
you immediately do as you're told, wrapping your arms around your knees and pulling them back against your chest. the position allows him to get even deeper, pressing against that little spot deep inside that makes your toes curl and cries of pleasure rip from your chest.
he starts fucking your properly again, sticky sounds coming from between your thighs from how wet you are. your creamy arousal coats his cock and drips down his balls, making a mess of him all over but he loves it.
"oh! i-i'm gonna cum, si," you squeal, legs twitching in your hold but you don't let go, scared that if you move at all your orgasm will be lost and you'll have to start all over, "j-just like that, please don't stop!"
simon grits his teeth, biting back a moan of his own when he hears how sweetly you beg for him, "i know, baby. i'll get you there, you know i will."
you nod your head, eyes wide but vision blurry as it builds and builds until your entire body is tense. with one little pinch to your swollen clit, you cum with a wail of his name.
"shit. shit!" simon groans, tossing his head back to moan, "fuck, that's it. cum on my cock, cum, baby, cum. oh shit, i love you. i love you, i love you, i love you."
his body falls over yours, face buried in your neck as he fills you up just right, his cum oozing out from around the tight seal your cunt has around his cock. his pace gradually slows before he comes to a stop all together.
he reaches over to grab his phone, panting and trembling from how hard he came. when he looks at the screen, he snickers, turning to show you that the call had been disconnected.
you just hope she stayed around long enough to hear that he loves you and took the hint <3
4K notes · View notes
lymtw · 7 months ago
Note
hello Mal!!! i have a nsfw req for toji x shy reader cuz they’re my fav and i literally think about it 24/7.
shy reader who’s not as vocal during sex with toji bc she gets nervous :( so he edges her til she squirts for the first time but only if she uses her voice!!!
A/N: Hello, hello! Thank you for reading and for sending this request in ☺️💙
Toji and His Shy Girl
Tumblr media
"What are you doing down there?" Toji asks, finally giving in to the distraction of you sitting at his feet, rather than sitting next to him.
"I'm watching the movie," you respond, with an innocent amount of truthfulness. You don't turn around to look at him, so you're met with a poke to your shoulder. That instinctively makes you turn your head in the direction of the contact.
"The couch is too big. Even for me, doll. Come sit." He pats the spot next to him and shifts where he sits, as if making even more room for you.
Your eyes flit between him and the cushion for a couple seconds before you respond. "I'm okay staying here. I don't wanna make you uncomfortable." You smile, kindly, and turn back to face the screen again.
Toji's brows furrow in misunderstanding. He taps your shoulder again, receiving the same look when you turn, again. You tilt your head in question.
"You wouldn't be making me uncomfortable. Far from it, with the enormous gap of space that would be between us. What if I wanted you to sit between my legs, instead?" He catches the way your eyes widen for a split second, your inhibition cleared for the short span of time. "Come sit, baby," he repeats, this time patting the unoccupied space of the cushion he's sitting on.
You don't want to make him wait any longer. The movie is still playing, you'll both lose track of the plot if you take any longer. You stand from your place on the ground and move to sit next to him. As soon as you bend down to sit, his hands go to your hips and he pulls you so that you fall into the place he wanted you in.
"There you go. Now pay attention to the movie."
You try for him. You're trying so hard to ignore the pressure of his forearms around your waist, and the warmth of his wrists against the sliver of skin revealed by your slightly lifted shirt. You can occasionally hear him sigh through his nose, only further adding on to the tension you feel upon sitting between his legs. You don't even know how he's watching the movie. You feel like you're obstructing his vision.
The movie ends and you're left staring at the title screen.
"Okay, movie's over. You probably want me off-"
"No." His arms fasten even more around you. "I'm comfortable. Are you not?"
"N-No, I am. It's just... I wasn't sure if you wanted to keep me here for a whole other movie."
"I could keep you here longer than that, doll." He straightens his posture and readjusts your position, so that he's not slouching and you're not leaning back uncomfortably. He can feel the tension surface on your body as you go rigid in his hold. He can't help but let out a small laugh at how this detail never ceases with you. "Relax, baby. What's got you so nervous?" He rests his chin on your shoulder and turns to get a better look at your face. "Hm?" He plants a chaste kiss to your temple.
"Nothing, I guess. We're just watching movies," you say, more as a reminder for yourself.
"Mhm. Watching movies... on the verge of cuddling..." he mumbles, into your neck. "Nothing to be nervous about."
His hands splay over your lower abdomen and you think he might be caressing your skin so sensually to mess with you after having said all those things to comfort you, but he's not relenting on the joke. He's kissing your shoulder, aiming to relieve you of some of your anxiety so that your body can melt into comfort. It has some effect on you, your nerves being mixed with something hot, now.
"We can do more than cuddling, if you want," he hums, grinning at the way you shudder. "You know, i've been dying to hear that pretty voice of yours."
"What?" you say, laughing nervously, like you misheard him.
"You've got a really nice voice, baby. I swear, I could listen to you talk, endlessly. Wish you would use it when I take you to bed. You don't make a peep, doll."
You go silent. Not because you're upset with him, or because what he said isn't true, but because you can't think of how to respond to that. You didn't think he was monitoring the sounds you make. He never said anything about it before. You figured maybe he preferred the silence.
"It's embarrassing..." you finally mumble, quickly turning around to right what may have come out wrong. "F-For me! Just me. You're fine to make all the sound you want. It's... it's just me." You turn back around to hide the flush of embarrassment on your cheeks.
"Why is it embarrassing? Am I not making you feel good enough?"
You can't let him feel that way.
"No, Toji- That's not- No, no, no. That's not the case, at all." You unwind his arms from your torso and turn to face him. You fully sit on his lap, and though the eye contact that comes after you wrap your legs around him was like having three cups of coffee on an empty stomach for your heart, you summed up the courage because it's not fair to let him think that way when it's the exact opposite. "I just..." you let out a small sigh. "I don't wanna be loud. I don't want you to hear me. God... I can barely even look at you when we... you know." You look down at where your hands absentmindedly rested on his stomach. "Sorry."
He's just smiling at you because he finds your entire existence beside him to be endearing. His hands go to yours. "I get to stare at your pretty face the entire time." He grins, watching the way your cheeks burn and how you try to distract yourself from his gaze by fidgeting with his hands. "You always look so good, ma. Bet you sound just as pretty."
There was so much tension in the silence that followed. He started playing with your hands. He would interlock his fingers with yours before slowly detangling your hands and repeating the process, flipping your hands this time. He got to feel the smoothness of your unpainted nails on the pads of his fingers, and he traced the lines etched into your palms.
Things got out of hand. One minute you were holding hands and laughing to yourselves with thoughts of how silly yet necessary the moment was, the next you were both undressing, and kissing like you missed each other terribly. He has his hands on your hips, guiding you up and down his cock while you hide your face in the crook of his neck. He's groaning and panting at the feeling of your velvety walls hugging him so tightly, and you just release little breaths into his neck, occasionally gasping when he hits a sensitive spot, as per usual.
"Baby," he pants, "let me hear you. Give me those pretty sounds."
"G-Gonna cum," you whisper, your breath becoming heavier with every upwards thrust of his hips.
"Not if you don't let me hear you."
He can feel you clenching around him more frequently. It's a telltale sign of your orgasm rolling in, so he immediately stops. Both of you are unsatisfied, but Toji can handle it for as long as it takes you to make a sound that isn't just your breathing. He can tell you want to, too, with the occasional squeaks that leave you.
"I-I was gonna-"
"And I meant what I said." He's just as edged and frustrated as you are. Despite not getting the sounds he wants from you so easily, you're still make him feel really good. Your touch, the skin-to-skin of you clinging onto him—it's enough to bring him towards the edge as well, and it takes every ounce of restraint for him to stop. He squeezes your waist when he sees the look of helpless desperation on your face. "You know I have all the patience when it comes to you, doll. We can do this all night. I just wanna know—audibly—that I'm making you feel as good as you say I am. Alright?"
You sigh, but nod in understanding.
"Good. Let's try that again."
Despite your gesture of comprehension, you're doing the same thing all over again. You're feeling good, you're comfortable and Toji sounds immensely hot as he continues to drive you up and down his length. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, your face once again buried into the crook of it. All that can be heard from you is your breathing, the warm air fanning over his already heated skin.
"Doll," he calls, feeling the way you mouth at his shoulder and neck.
"Please, just a little longer. Please," you murmur, feeling that spike in pleasure return again.
"Doll, you're not..." he groans. He knows he has to stop or you'll get what you want, and what he wants will be pushed aside. "You're not letting me hear your pretty voice."
"Please, please, please, Toji. I-I'm right there..."
"Uh-uh." With heavy hands weighing down your hips like cinder blocks, you're once again denied of that weakening force of pleasure.
"T-Toji," you utter, weakly. You drag your face down to his chest, and allow all the heavy breaths of the forceful stop to come out. Your cunt is throbbing, viciously. You're aching for more of him.
The man who usually caved to your every want and put your needs before everything, was suddenly being incredibly selfish with your pleasure, stopping every time you say you're close. You think you can find a way around it by just not warning him, but he knows your body like the back of his hand. He knows every one of the signs that come with your orgasms, making it pointless for you to try to evade his torture. He's done it to the point where you feel like mush, sluggishly lying against him.
"Look at me, doll. Lift your head."
"Mm-mm." You shake your head against his shoulder.
"Be good." He chuckles at your stubbornness and allows a hand to rest on your lower back. "I'm trying to give you what you want, so would you just look at me."
You sigh, before you start peeling yourself, little by little, off of him.
He immediately notices the involuntary lift of your lips. "Ooh, look at that pout. Could've just told me you wanted a kiss, doll." He smirks, watching as you turn your head slightly to hide the scorch on your cheeks. It's not the main thing you wanted, but you weren't mad when he did pull you in for a kiss, because he started moving his hips again, the pace slow as your lips remained locked. That slow pace was how every one of these torturous cycles started out, but this time it was different. It was now harder to get what you wanted.
"Eyes on me, baby, or I stop."
"I can't- Please, Toji." You want to bury your face in the crook of his neck, again. You want to hide yourself from those eyes of his that never fail to make you feel vulnerable.
"Eyes on me... or I stop," he repeats, calmly, as if enduring all of these stops is such a simple task for both of you. You look at him, and immediately feel like you're being swallowed whole. You feel like he's eating you alive with just his gaze. The sweat beading on his forehead, the tint of color on his cheeks, the lust that simmers in his eyes… it's an insane visual. It's overwhelming.
He sees it, though. The way you try to still your bottom lip as it quivers, the way your chest spasms from holding it all in, your pleading eyes. It's all so... you. So fragile, so timid, so small. So beautiful.
"Good girl. Yeah... just look at me," he instructs, and you whimper. Your gaze falls to his chest as embarrassment floods you at light speed. Your hands reach out for him like they do when you're ready to wrap your arms around him again, but he intercepts them. The brief noise homed into Toji's ears, and rushed straight down to his dick. He can't afford to be deprived of your facial expressions when he now knows what your pretty voice sounds like when it's laced with need. "Fuck... again. Do it again, princess. I heard that loud and clear."
"P-Please. Please, let me go back." You test the strength of his grip, twisting your wrists in his hold. He responds by pushing your arms behind you, the edge of his palms grazing your lower back with every bounce of you on his cock.
"What did I say, baby? Huh? Lift your head and look at me." When you refuse to listen and keep staring at his chest, he decides to give you a countdown for when he's going to stop. "Three..."
"No! Okay, okay," you say, complying with lifting your gaze. Your pleasure skyrockets when you make eye contact with him. He gives you a little smirk, like he's proud of you for showing him that you'll always be good for him, even if you're stubborn about it.
"Shit, mama. You feel so fucking good. Might just cum before you, if you keep this up."
You moan at the threat and bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from looking away again. Every sound you let slip makes Toji pick up the pace of his thrusts. They're always precise, so with the speed rising, you think you might catch up to his pleasure. "Please, Toji. Please." The second plead comes out as a whine. "Please, i'm... um..." you hum, shutting your eyes briefly at the sensation of him prodding your sensitive spot again and again. "I'm..." Another whimper slips out.
"Yeah?" He murmurs, watching you struggle to finish your thought, through lidded eyes. "Get it out. All of it."
You're cracking. Your little moans are becoming more and more audible. "I'm trying." You gasp, the breath coming out shaky.
Toji is devouring all of it. His focus is unbreakable, and his thoughts of you are greedy. He wants more than what you're giving him. He wants you to be louder, he wants you to scream his name, he wants to make you cum so hard that you let go of all that embarrassment and moan freely for him.
He removes one of his hands from your wrists, keeping them restrained with his other hand, so that he can toy with your clit. The rush of pleasure makes you twitch above him, a sweet moan instantly released by you. You feel so flustered, you can't hold the sounds back as well as before. It's the unfaltering look he throws at you. He has no trouble holding eye contact with you.
He's obsessed with this show you're putting on for him. The way you're crumbling for him, slowly giving in and losing your tentativeness towards making sound. You remain overwhelmed by all of it. The heavy breathing, his groans, the rapid movement of his thrusts, his rough thumb stroking your clit, the way you're so lost in the pleasure of it all that you've become just as greedy as him, chasing even more stimulation by grinding your hips against him. It's a loud scene.
"T-Toji, Toji!" You gasp. "I'm- Oh!"
"Oh fuck. Cum," he growls. "Cum, pretty girl. Cum for-"
Your entire body is trembling on top of him. Loud cries fill the room as your orgasm washes over you, in the most unbelievably messy way. Toji is stunned, entirely speechless as he fucks you through this intense orgasm. Your back is arched in so much you think your spine might snap, and you can't for the life of you stop crying out his name. This is one of the most powerful orgasms he has pulled from you, if not the most powerful. Toji's lap is drenched, your ass and the backs of your thighs are wet. It's never happened this way before. Your mind is so clouded, you can't even think of what just happened.
Not even a minute later, Toji mirrors you in experiencing that feeling of pure ecstasy, heavy pants and groans released, carelessly, by him. His warm load is shot into you, adding on to the mess when it begins to drool out of you and down his length.
You're both breathless, left frozen in your positions for a good amount of time, while you think about what just happened. You come down from your blissful state first and can't even think to look at him. You pull your hands out of his weakened grip and rest them on your thighs and just stare at them until he says something. You don't know what to say, so you'll let him do the talking.
It was a heat of the moment type thing. Completely unexpected and he's shocked to say the least. It takes Toji a couple minutes himself to think of what to say, but ultimately, he thinks this is the best way to break the ice...
"You just squirted... all over me."
You don't even look up at him when he says that. You just might cry from the continuously skyrocketing level of embarrassment you're feeling.
"Do you have anything to say about it?" He asks, to which you just shake your head. He lets a couple seconds go by, just to add an unnecessary dramatic effect to the situation, before picking up the conversation again. "Well, good thing I have some things to say about it, pretty." He grins and wraps you up in his arms, allowing you to return to your safe space. "You know how much I love you, right?" He says, turning his head to look down at your face. You hum in response and nod against his shoulder. "And that I only pushed you so that you wouldn't hide your voice from me anymore?" You nod again. "Well, I was right." He smirks, thinking of how he got exactly what he wanted. "I'll leave it at that so you don't overheat on me."
He sighs, contentedly, at the feeling of you being so relaxed in his arms now, compared to before. "You did so well for me, mama," he says, before pressing multiple kisses to your head.
There's a beat of silence. Toji can't stop thinking of that spontaneous moment. It's stuck on loop in his head. It's not convenient in this moment, since you're cockwarming him, but before you know it, he's half hard inside you again.
"You think I can make you do it on purpose, this time?"
2K notes · View notes
authorhjk1 · 2 months ago
Text
A queen's night
(IU X Irene X Karina X Yujin X Yeji)
Tumblr media
He could lose his job for this. But there's no turning back now. Not after getting paid in advance. And it's not like he can return the payment.
Jieun's manager takes a deep breath, before finally taking the next turn. He is leaving the route he usually takes to drive her home. His knuckles turn white, sweat starts to run down his neck. Glancing at the rear view mirror, he sees Jieun scrolling on her phone. Looks like she didn't notice anything yet.
"Please turn left."
Taken by surprise, the man in the driver's seat almost shouts. He is so on edge, so afraid of Jieun finding out, that he forgot to mute the GPS. What if she hears it and realizes he isn't driving her home?
After finally shutting it off, he focuses back on the road. Another turn. The longer he drives, the more he is afraid of getting caught. Another turn. What if he gets fired for this? Isn't this basically kidnapping? Another turn. Sweat starts to build on his forehead. Maybe he should turn around? Another turn.
After a minute or two, the screen of the GPS finally shows their destination. He slows down, looking for the right building.
"Oppa."
A cold shudder runs down his spine.
"Where are we?"
"Huh?.... Well,.... We're taking a shortcut."
Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Jieun looks out the window. She's never been here before. And this doesn't really look like a shortcut. Haven't they always chosen the quickest route so far?
"Maybe you took the wrong turn?"
He decides to ignore the question.
"Oppa?"
A relived sigh leaves his body, when he finally spots the bright neon sign.
"We are here."
Jieun looks around.
"What does 'here' mean?"
The street, almost an alley, is pretty dark. Except for a couple of street lights and a neon sign, everyone and everything seems to be sleeping.
"I'm supposed to give you this."
Jieun accepts the envelope, while glancing at the rear view mirror. Her manager usually doesn't sound this scarred or afraid. It's not like she's gonna kill him, because they got lost.
She opens the envelope carefully and then takes out the card inside it.
"Third floor, second room on the left."
"What is this supposed to be?"
Her brows furrow, her question is directed at her manager.
"I don't know, Jieun. The... The CEO gave it to me this morning. He... He said to drive to this address and give you the envelope."
"This address?"
Jieun looks out of they window again.
"Yes. The Queen's Motel."
The woman in the backseat stares at the neon light. This looks more like motel for one night stands than a proper meeting place.
"Fine."
Jieun sighs and steps out of the van with a heavy heart.
"Don't worry. I'll pick you up later."
"Sure."
Jieun's manager sees her hesitate one more time, before she finally walks towards the entrance. His eyes follow her when she opens the door and steps inside. He finally groans in agony, all the tension leaving his body. Was it really worth it? Were they all worth it? We're they all worth her reputation?
He reaches into his pocket for his phone. Quickly heading to his gallery, he scrolls through the pictures he took while Jieun was on stage earlier.
He almost had a heart attack when someone suddenly opened the door to her dressing room, while he was watching her performance.
"Hello, manager-nim."
The young girl's sweet voice and smile made him stand up and bow.
"Hello, Yeji-ssi."
Tumblr media
"I'm a big fan of IU and I was hoping you could give her this."
Yeji was holding an envelope in her hand. It was red and sealed.
"For Jieun"
"Sure. Of course I can do that."
He was surprised that Yeji came to him and not directly to Jieun.
"I'll give it to her right when she comes back."
He couldn't help but glance at Yeji's midriff. Her top was not covering much of her upper body, showing off a lot of skin. He thought he'd never get a chance with her at all. She's an idol. A celebrity. And he's significantly older than her. No way a young woman like Yeji would even look at him twice. But he had seen her dancing on stage, right before it was Jieun's turn. He still remembered the way her hips swayed to the music.
"Could you maybe wait for a while, until you give it to her?"
"S...Sure. I'll give it to her, when she's at home."
To his surprise, Yeji shook her head.
"Would it be possible for you to drive her to this address tonight?"
She took a piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to him as well. After glancing at the address, he shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Yeji-ssi. I can't just drop her off somewhere in the city."
"Manager-nim..."
His eyes grew wide when Yeji pouted at him, her voice dripping with sweetness.
"This is really important to me. Can't you trust me?"
"Of course I trust you, Yeji-ssi. But I can't just drop off a celebrity at a random address."
Yeji smiled at him and he felt his resistance crumbling.
"Oppa..."
The word made him feel warm as it left her pretty lips.
"I really need you to do this for me."
He was aware that Yeji had just closed the door behind her. He took a deep breath, hoping this was just a dream. Or maybe was he hoping for it to be real?
"I'll reward you, of course."
"Reward me?"
A victorious smile played around her lips.
"Take out your phone, oppa."
He felt his blood rush into his cock, whenever she called him that. Just the idea of a chance with her...
"You're welcome to take as many pictures as you like."
"Pictures?"
"Do you want me to pose for you?"
Her warm smile made him eagerly nod his head.
Tumblr media
He quickly took a picture of her, afraid she would change her mind.
"What do you think of this?"
Yeji closed on eye as if she was winking, while biting one of her nails.
The manager felt his cock harden as he quickly shoot two more pictures.
"And this?"
She bit down on her lower lip, while hooking her thumb under her belt as if she was gonna take off her pants.
His mouth was opened wide as more and more pictures filled his phone. By now he almost took pictures by the second as Yeji made a show out of pulling the transparent plastic straps of her top off her shoulders.
"Do you like it when I strip in front of you?"
He was too busy watching her and capturing the moment with his camera to respond. With a knowing smile, Yeji turned to the side, her hand followed the curves of her body.
"Do you like how slim my waist is? I'm sure you'd love to get your hands on that."
When her hand finally reached her chest, she used her other hand to playfully wag her finger.
"No peeking, oppa."
She turned around completely, so he could get a great couple of shots of her back. He held his breath when he watched her slowly slide down her top. Her upper back was now fully exposed.
"You have to promise to drive her to that address, oppa."
It took him a moment to realize she expected a response.
"Of course. I...I'll get her there."
"Do you really promise it?"
"Yes. Yes, I promise."
"Thank you so much, oppa."
Yeji sent him one last smile over her shoulder, before slowly turning around.
Jieun's heart is pounding in her chest as she raises her hand to knock on the door. Third floor, second room on the left. Who's gonna be in that room? No one is gonna make her do weird things, right? She got some inappropriate requests before. But if her CEO told her to go here, it can't be something bad. He'd want her best after all, right?
She takes a deep breath and knocks on the door. She doesn't hear any noises inside the room. After waiting for a good 20 seconds, she knocks again. Still nothing. Jieun places her ear on the wooden door. No one is talking. Or moving. It seems like the room is empty. So maybe she just needs to get inside? Is she supposed to meet someone? If they aren't here yet, when are they coming?
Jieun sighs in frustration and reaches for the doorknob. The fact that she's totally clueless and unprepared makes her feel unsafe and awkward. But eventually, she slowly opens the door.
The room is bigger than Jieun imagined. It's pretty large actually. A huge bed, a couch, a coffee table and... Her breath hitches as she takes a closer look at the left side of the room, behind the couch. Is that a....a sex swing that is hanging from the ceiling? She slowly steps into the room as she notices two cardboard boxes next to the bed. This can't be a sex room or something, right? Her CEO would never do this. Or is it him she's now waiting for?
Jieun's throat feels awfully dry as she bends down to open one of the boxes. She's hoping for something that would explain all of this. Maybe it's just a prank? Or an escape room? Her imagination starts to run wild.
Opening the box, her eyes widen at the first two things she sees. Both black. But both have entirely different purposes. One of them is silicon dildo, it's length making Jieun already sick. Does anyone expect her to take this? With shaking fingers, she reaches for the other item. A whip. A leather whip. She was never a fan of any hardcore stuff. And this is definitely too much. She feels something uncomfortable bubble up inside of her. As if she's getting sick. Her eyes land on a door on the right side of the bed. A bathroom? The lights are on. Maybe just in case...
She suddenly hears something that makes her blood run cold. The door she stepped through earlier has just been closed. Jieun's grip around the whip tightens. She takes a deep breath and then turns around.
"Unnie?"
Irene is standing between Jieun and the door.
Tumblr media
For a moment, she is relived. A familiar face. A friend even. But Irene's cold expression soon takes away the feeling of hope.
"What...What are you doing here?"
Without a word, Irene walks towards the couch. Jieun catches her letting a key fall into the pocket of her red jacket. The key for the door?
"Why don't you take a seat?"
An evil smile plays around Irene's lips as she says that.
Jieun hesitates. She thought she could trust Irene. But she's the one who just locked the two of them inside this room.
"Are...Are you the one who gave my manager the envelope?"
Irene lets out an annoyed sigh instead or an answer.
"Just do what I tell you to do."
"Excuse me?"
Jieun is slowly starting to get irritated, even angry. Why the hell is she here? In this place? She could be home by now. Lying on her bed. Recovering from today's busy schedule.
"You heard me. I already took a picture of you at the front door outside. The reporters would love to know why you're in a place like this. Don't you agree?"
"I...What do you want?"
Irene opens her mouth slightly as if she just thought of something. She looks Jieun up and down.
"Why don't you..."
A sly smile plays around her lips.
"Why don't you get on your knees?"
"What? Do you want me to beg or something? This is ridiculous."
She can hear her voice becoming louder. But Irene just slowly shakes her head.
"You heard me."
Now she's pointing at the floor.
Jieun swallows hard. If Irene really took a picture, it could be come really dangerous. She realized by now that this is a love motel. Not some ordinary hotel. And it'd be of no use to explain that someone told her to come here, if Irene would really leak the photo.
Slowly, trying her best to give Irene her best death stare, Jieun sinks to her knees on the black carpet.
"Come here."
Irene slowly crosses one leg over the other, her eyes set on Jieun.
The young woman hesitates, but she realizes that there's no way out of this. If doing what Irene says will make this be over quicker, so be it.
An amused chuckle leaves Irene's lips as she watches Jieun carefully crawl towards her. She avoids eye contact until she is kneeling right in front of her.
"Good girl."
Irene's degrading tone makes Jieun roll her eyes, her face partially hidden by her hair.
"Clean them."
"What?"
Her head shoots upwards.
For a moment, she thought Irene was joking. But she's just moving her right foot a little closer to her face.
"Clean them. Or your career will be over by tomorrow."
Jieun grimaces as she takes a look at Irene's feet. They're clad in elegant black high-heeled sandals, which feature an open toe design and a slim ankle strap tied with a delicate bow in the front. Her toenails are painted in plain white. It's not like Irene has ugly feet, it's the opposite really, but the humiliation is almost too much for Jieun. The two of them might be the only ones in the room. But she could never ever face her, once she started.
After taking a deep breath, Jieun closes her eyes and sticks her tongue out. She licks her instep from the bottom to the top, until she reaches the bow. She quickly does the motion a second time, hoping that Irene had enough. But the older woman, slightly tilts her foot signaling Jieun to keep going. She sighs and starts to lick both sides of Irene's foot, until her tongue has covered every inch.
"Take it off."
Jieun quickly fumbles for the bow, hoping she's now halfway done. To her dismay, Irene just wiggles her toes after her shoe hits the floor. Jieun grits her teeth, but then takes Irene's toes into her mouth, one after the other. She sucks on them, lets her tongue clean them thoroughly. Once Irene had enough, she lifts her foot higher. With a crooked eyebrow, she silently tells Jieun to lick the bottom of her foot as well.
"Good girl."
Her praise almost makes Jieun shake her head in disgust. But when Irene finally lowers her foot to the floor, she sighs in relief.
"I hope for your sake you do a better job with the second one."
Jieun nods, resigning herself to her fate. She sticks out her tongue as Irene holds up her left foot. Once more, she licks Irene's instep with closed eyes. Afraid that Irene might become unsatisfied, Jieun does her best this time. She thoroughly cleans Irene's foot in every way she can. Just while she's sucking on two of her toes, she hears someone else's voice.
"I think she's starting to like it."
Jieun jumps. She looks to her left and stares with wide open eyes into the camera of someone's phone.
"Smile, unnie."
The girl's sweet, seemingly happy voice, confuses Jieun. What the hell is going on?
Looking past the phone, she quickly recognizes the culprit.
"Y-Yujin?"
Tumblr media
"I hope you don't mind us. Just keep going."
"Us?"
Jieun looks around and realizes she has been too focused on satisfying Irene. Yujin is standing on her left and another girl on her right.
Tumblr media
"Yeji?"
"Hi, unnie. Seems like your manager really liked my photos."
"What?"
Jieun feels even more confused and surprised than when she first stepped into this room. What is going on? Why are they all here?
Suddenly, someone else strokes her hair from behind.
"I always wanted to get a chance like this, unnie. I bet you're tight."
Jieun can't believe that someone would say these things about her. And she immediately recognizes the voice
"Karina?"
Tumblr media
In the back of her head, Jieun is still wondering where the three girls came from. But she's focused back on Irene, who leans down a little.
"You really thought you'd get away with this, huh?"
"A...Away with what?"
Jieun can hear her own voice trembling.
Yeji rolls her eyes.
"Your popularity has increased throughout the year."
She looks her up and down with a dissatisfied look on her face
"For some reason."
Irene takes Jieun's chin into her hand.
"And I'm sure you can understand why we're annoyed by that, huh?"
"Well, I-"
"I still don't get it."
Yujin interrupts her.
"You have literally nothing to offer. No cool dancing, no real popular songs, nothing."
Jieun's initial shame gets partially replaced by anger. She didn't work this hard for years to just get bullied by these four girls.
"Leave me alone already. Maybe you should work harder."
Yeji scoffs in disbelief. Jieun feels Karina's hand in her hair again, but this time it isn't as gentle as before.
"Work harder? Oh please."
She pulls her hair a little, making Jieun look up at her.
"I'm sure the only work you ever did was sleeping around with rich men, so they buy your albums."
"That's right. How else would you be able to sell so many copies."
Yujin chimes in.
"I didn't sleep around with anyone! I-"
"Silence."
Irene's cold voice would've been enough to make Jieun stop talking. But the older woman even covered Jieun's mouth with her naked foot.
"I don't want to hear excuses. From now on, I expect you to tone it down. Got it? Maybe take a break from releasing music or something."
Her voice sounds threatening and Jieun is still very aware that Irene has those photos of her. Actually, Yeji seems to now have photos of her, worshipping Irene's feet. That's even worse. Maybe Jieun should just take this lecture and leave.
"Now, I'm sure you get what I'm saying."
Irene lowers her foot and leans back.
"But, to make sure you really understand, we should teach you a lesson."
"What are you talking about?"
"Why don't we start by getting that little dress off?"
Yujin whispers into her ear, a finger already hooked under one of the brown straps.
Tumblr media
"Wait! You can't do this!"
Jieun looks to her left, when Yeji pulls the other strap off her shoulder as well.
"Trust me, unnie. We can."
Karina reaches down from behind her and opens the big belt that covers Jieun's chest. As the dress slides down, Jieun instinctively moves her hand to cover her chest. She isn't wearing a bra.
"Don't get all shy now, unnie. You looked like you really enjoyed it earlier."
Jieun shakes her head at Yujin's words.
"What is there to cover anyways?"
Karina grabs the older woman's wrists and pushes them down. Jieun struggles against her, but she doesn't stand a chance. Her cheeks burn with embarrassment as she's now kneeling topless on the floor, the four girls around her.
"What is this supposed to be?"
Karina runs a hand over Jieun's tits, after Yujin and Yeji both took one of Jieun's hands.
"You're older than me, unnie."
Yujin perfectly mimicks that concerned tone.
"But you have nothing to show off."
Jieun would hang her head in shame, if it wasn't for Karina's hand in her hair. She was always a little insecure about her size. Most of the other idols and actresses have at least something. But she always felt like she wouldn't even need to wear a bra.
"I really don't have a clue to why you're so popular."
Karina's voice in her ear makes Jieun shiver.
"You don't even have tits."
"Her fans are probably all girls."
Yeji's comment makes Karina nod her head in understanding.
"I guess so."
She pulls at Jieun's hair again, making her look up at her.
"Look at this."
With her other hand, Karina grabs the hem of her black top and pulls it upwards. She isn't wearing a bra either. Her tits basically spring free, after the restricting top is gone.
"Jealous?"
A wicked smile plays around her lips.
Before Jieun can answer, Karina leans down, covering her face with her chest.
"Why don't you be as kind to me as you were to Irene, unnie?"
A tug at her hair makes Jieun understand that it wasn't a question. Karina isn't waiting for an answer.
Jieun closes her eyes once more and carefully sticks out her tongue. She can't believe she already had her mouth on Irene's feet. And now she has to do it with Karina's tits too?
She feels someone pulling her dress off even further, but she can't resist. She diligently licks every spot on Karina's tits that she can find, hoping for a quick end. When Karina pulls away a little, she guides Jieun towards her nipples. The older woman takes one of them into her mouth, sucking on it for a while, before focusing on the other one.
"Damn, have you done this before?"
Karina sighs, visibly satisfied.
Still occupied with the younger girl's tits, Jieun doesn't respond. But she almost yelps in surprise, when she feels someone's hand slip inside her dress. Her panties get pushed to the side. Jieun suddenly feels a little hotter than before. A weird sense of anticipation rushes through her for a moment. She feels a finger brush against her folds.
"Here you go, unnie."
Jieun hears Yujin's voice. But it seems like the words weren't directed at her. The finger quickly gets replaced by something else. Something harder and slightly colder. Jieun feels it pushing against her folds, slowly penetrating her pussy. It's size makes her moan into Karina's tits as her walls stretch around the mysterious object.
It takes a her a moment to figure out what it could be.
"Oh god."
She sighs, her voice muffled by Karina, who makes her suck on her nipples once more. While she's coating them in her spit, she feels the dildo push further into her. Is that the huge black one from one of the boxes? She can't tell, but it certainly feels like it. Just when she's about beg for them to not push it all the way inside of her, she hears Irene's voice.
"Jieun, look at me."
Karina lets go off her and moves back a little. Jieun opens her eyes. She's about to glance down at herself, when she sees Irene. The oldest is still sitting seemingly relaxed on the couch. But something has changed. Jieun recognizes the whip she is holding. The one she found earlier. But that's not the only thing that changed. Her eyes grow wide when she takes a closer look at Irene's lap.
"W...What is that?"
"I'm sure you know what it is."
Irene moves her free hand down. She looks at Jieun, while teasingly stroking the strap on she is wearing.
"Why don't you get your pretty lips over here and give it a lick?"
"I...I thought you'd let me go after-"
"Let you go?"
Irene has trouble holding back her laughter.
"We haven't finished your lesson yet. And the way you're behaving right now tells me we might be here all night."
"All night? No, I can't. I have to go home and-"
"You look so pretty here, unnie."
Yeji interrupts her and shows Jieun her phone screen. She recognizes herself. On her knees. Her lips wrapped around Irene's toes.
For a moment, Jieun feels like her heart stopped beating. For a moment, she wonders if she should just leave now. Let them publish the photos. She could go to a remote place where no one would find her. The humiliation would be huge. But it would be better than this. Right?
Jieun glances at herself in the picture once more. She takes a deep breath and leans forward. Sticking her tongue out, she places it on the silicon tip of Irene's blue strap on.
"Good girl."
Irene purrs, making Jieun close her eyes. She slowly drags her tongue along the length of the dildo, until it reaches the base. She's still very aware of the other plastic object, which is still inside of her. But no one has moved it for a while now. So maybe it won't be too bad?
Jieun keeps her tongue glued to the silicon and soon wraps her lips around it as well. It takes her a couple of moments, but eventually she is able to imagine herself with a really handsome man. Of course it doesn't feel the same. But it might make it easier. She pretends to really like him. He is very attractive. His cock tastes amazing as her lips glide up and down his shaft. He showers her with praises. How beautiful she is. How good her lips feel. How skillful she is with her tongue. When Irene takes a hold of the back of Jieun's neck, she pretends she is the man she's sucking off. The older woman pushes her head further down, making her take more of the dildo.
As Jieun gets more and more into it, the three keep watching her for a while. But eventually, Karina and Yeji walk over the two boxes next to the bed. Yujin can't help herself though. One hand gives her breasts small squeezes through her own top, while her other hand has slipped past the waistband of her pants.
"Come on, you can do better."
Irene's voice seems sweet as she pushes Jieun's hair out of the way.
"Make it all wet. For your sake."
Jieun barely registers her words, already too deep into her own fantasy. But the further Irene pushes her head down, the sloppier her blowjob becomes. Soon, Jieun is taking the whole dildo. It barely grazes the back of her mouth everytime her lips kiss its base. Yujin has now taken her leather pants off, her panties are lying next to her. She can't look away as she watches Jieun sucking cock. Two of her fingers are buried inside of her.
Meanwhile, both Karina and Yeji have each put on a strap on as well. Karina's is larger than Yeji's and Irene's with Yeji's being the smallest of the three. In addition to that, Karina took out a pair of nipple clamps from one of the boxes, while Yeji is holding a red rope.
"You know what? Why don't you help your dongsaeng out? Looks like she needs a little help."
Jieun's fantasy vanishes as Irene pulls her off her strap on. The younger woman glances at Yujin, who is leaning against the backrest of the couch, cute moans leaving her lips. Jieun had never had sex with another woman before. She's never tasted someone else's pussy. For a moment, she thinks about declining. But the threat of the pictures don't give her much of a choice.
"Do it. Eat her out like it's your last meal."
Irene's words finally make Jieun move. When she does, she remembers the dildo inside of her. She lets out an involuntary moan. She's been stretched out for a couple of minutes now. Her pussy already got used to it. But now that she's moving, it seems to reposition itself inside of her.
Yujin moves her hand away when Jieun leans in. Her breath hitches as the older woman places her lips on her pussy. Jieun tries to mimick the motions from when she herself got eaten out in the past. She takes it slow at first. Licking Yujin's folds, inserting her tongue into her cunt, sucking at her clit. She keeps alternating between all these options, slowly turning Yujin into a moaning mess. Maybe if she made her cum, she'd have a chance to leave? Jieun is doubtful, but all she can do is hope.
She focuses on pleasuring Yujin, truly trying to make her orgasm. The younger girl starts to push Jieun's head further into her core, trying to get even more of her tongue inside of her. Meanwhile, Yeji has handed the rope to Irene, who is now kneeling behind Jieun. Before she can react, Yeji takes a hold of her wrists once more. Jieun instinctively struggles against her grip. But Yeji is too strong for her. And Yujin pushing her further into her pussy doesn't help at all. She can feel how Irene starts to tie her hands together with the rope. At the same time, Karina has moved to Jieun's left. She reaches underneath her head.
Jieun almost screams at the unexpected pang of pain. Karina has put one end of the metallic nipple clamps onto her left nipple. Jieun almost sees stars, but tries to concentrate on Yujin. If she endures all of that without complaint, they might let her go sooner. Karina now attaches the other end, which is connected with the left one by a small metal chain, to Jieun's right nipple. This time, she's prepared for it. It still hurts, but she can keep it under control.
"Unnie."
Yujin whines. The scene in front of her and Jieun's work brings her closer to her orgasm. She bucks her hips forward, her grip on Jieun's head tightening.
"Oh, damn!"
She cries out as Jieun makes her climax. Her juices spill out of her, partially staining Jieun's face. The older girl is about to wipe it off, when she remembers that her hands are tied behind her back.
"I hope you can take this well."
Irene's cold voice suddenly rings in her ear. Jieun feels how something pokes her rear entrance.
"Wait! I never-"
Too late. Irene is already pushing forward, the strap on slowly disappearing into Jieun's puckered hole. Her eyes roll to the back of her head. The nipple clamps, the dildo inside her pussy and the dildo inside her ass overstimulate her. She's never felt like this before. So full. So...So turned on. She can't really explain it. Mere minutes ago, she never thought she'd ever eat another woman out. She was disgusted by the thought of having to worship Irene's feet. But here she is now. The first time someone takes her ass and Jieun can't do anything but moan out. It's almost like her body is betraying her. Her mind is still fighting this. She's ashamed. But at the same time, her body is starting to welcome all of this. It welcomes every thrust of Irene's dildo.
Surprisingly, it doesn't take her that long to get accustomed to it. Just when Irene is about to fuck her properly, Yeji turns Jieun's head towards her. Her mouth lands on her strap on and Jieun instinctively lets it part her lips. Moments later, her mouth, her pussy and her ass are all filled with dildos. She has never felt like this before. She never even dreamed of this. But for some reason, her punishment is turning into something special. Something good. Unconsciously, Jieun begins to ride the dildo inside of her. The friction which is caused by that and Irene's strap on makes her eyes roll to the back of her head. She does her best to keep sucking off Yeji, her tongue swirling around the plastic tip, whenever the dildo threatens to slip out of her mouth. Now she doesn't mind being tied up. Jieun starts to enjoy the attention. It's almost like all the pleasure and degradation has changed her mind. She isn't bothered by Karina occasionally tugging at the chain between the nipple clamps, making her nipples hurt even more.
"You think, if I keep doing that, you might have a chance of going up a bra size?"
She isn't bothered by Karina's words. And she still isn't bothered when Karina starts pulling harder, actually stretching her tits a little.
"Maybe then it's worth it for you to wear a bra. The smallest size of course."
She isn't bothered by Karina's degrading tone. And Jieun definitely isn't bothered by Irene slowly picking up the pace.
The longer her holes are filled, the more she falls in love with the feeling. At some point, Yeji and Karina change position. Now, Jieun is sucking on Karina's strap on. But instead of just tugging at the nipple clamps, Yeji stole the whip from Irene. She first tries out the new toy on Jieun's ass cheeks. It doesn't hurt her much. The pleasure is almost too much for her to feel any pain at all. But soon her cheeks are covered with red marks. Once she's satisfied, Yeji moves onto Jieun's tits. She uses the whip on them as well. This time, it definitely hurts more. Jieun occasionally lets out a yelp around Karina's dildo, whenever Yeji hits her a little harder.
"I want to ruin her too, unnie."
Yujin's whine makes Irene come to a hold. Jieun sighs in disappointment as some of the pleasure leaves her body. When Irene pulls out, her ass feels so empty. The unsatisfying feeling almost starts to drive her wild. By now, Jieun has started to get used to being filled completely.
"Please..."
She tries to talk with Karina's dildo in her mouth.
"Please use my ass."
Irene smirks at her words. She knew that Jieun wouldn't last much longer. She once heard her moan inside her dressing room at an award show maybe one or two years ago. Since that moment, she knew that Jieun had the potential to be a slut. She knew that this would be the best way for everyone. Perfect to pressure Jieun into taking a backseat, while the other girl's popularity could skyrocket. And also just over all beautiful to see Jieun slowly break down. Slowly succumbing to this guilty pleasure.
"Let's move her to the bed."
Moments later, Jieun is straddling Karina's lap, her strap on angled at the older woman's cunt. When she sinks down on it, a relieved sigh leaves Jieun's lips. Another one soon follows, when she feels Yujin slowly push her new dildo into her ass. She already feels full again. The two fake cocks inside of her make her head spin. When she starts to moan, Jieun quickly gets silenced by not one, but two dildos filling her mouth. She does her best to give them both equal attention. Her tongue aims for every part of their dildos it can reach. Her lips glide along both shafts.
Jieun can feel the chain between the nipple clamps hit her stomach as Yujin increases the pace. In return, Jieun rides Karina's dildo even faster. She really needs to feel that friction between the two strap ons. It just feels amazing. It's almost impossible for her to describe this feeling.
"What a good slut you are."
Irene caresses Jieun's bulging cheek.
At the beginning, Jieun would've felt disgust after hearing those words. But now she's silently begging Irene for another compliment. She leans her head into her hand as much as possible.
"You're liking it now, do you?"
Jieun is unable to nod her head, but her eyes say everything.
She's already forgotten all about the pictures, when the four of them move her to the sex swing. She is barely moving by now. They've successfully turned her into a pleasure addicted toy. Once they're all in position, Irene pushes her dildo into her ass once more. It's still wet with Jieun's saliva. It feels perfect inside of her. Every one of Irene's thrust makes the swing move. Karina is now standing in front of her. Whenever Irene bottoms out inside her ass, Jieun gets pushed onto Karina's dildo. She does her best to suck on it, before Irene moves back again. It only takes a couple of thrust from Irene, until the three of them have found the perfect rhythm.
Both Yujin and Yeji have taken a break from punishing Jieun. They're both lying on the couch, Yeji on top of Yujin. They're enjoying each other, while eating each other out. Their moans sync with Jieun's as she gets basically spit roasted by Irene and Karina.
There really seems to be no end in sight for Jieun. She doesn't know what time it is. Curtains are covering the windows, not letting any light inside the room. Is it morning already? It doesn't matter. Her body is completely worn out, completely used. But the four women don't stop using her. She's now lying back on the bed again. Her hands are still tied behind her back, but a couple of minutes ago, Karina tied her feet together as well. So now Jieun can't move at all. She feels like she isn't even inside her own body anymore. It's like she is watching a movie. But only small parts of it.
"Please let me cum."
She whines as Irene drives her towards the edge, just so she can deny her her orgasm again. And because her limbs are tied, Jieun can't do anything about it. She can only lie on her stomach, her hands on her back, waiting for Irene to start moving again. But Irene has other plans.
"You still have one more foot to go."
Jieun looks at Yujin's right foot. The younger girl is sitting at the head of the bed. The left one has already been cleaned by Jieun. And now, she has to clean the right one too, before Irene starts to fuck her again.
Jieun starts by taking one of Yujin's toes into her mouth. She slowly sucks on it, still not really accustomed to the feeling. But when she suddenly feels the leather pieces of the whip sliding teasingly over her ass cheeks, she quickens her pace.
It's too late though. Irene wasn't satisfied. The whip cracks and a second later, Jieun's right cheek starts to burn.
"Unnie."
She whines, unable to hide her pain. But she quickly moves onto the next toe. Another hit from the whip and both her cheeks hurt. Irene is just starting to enjoy herself. No matter how quick or thorough Jieun is, she feels the whip hit her ass every couple of seconds. She knows Irene won't stop, until she completely cleaned Yujin's feet.
A couple of minutes later, or maybe even an hour later, Jieun has completely lost her sense for time, she finds herself being carried by Yeji and Karina. Yeji is standing behind her, lifting her up and down, her cock sliding in and out of Jieun's ass. Which also means, Jieun is forced to take Karina's strap on as well. Her pussy and her ass are getting stretched out at the same time. She's eye to eye level with Karina, who keeps degrading her.
"Have you ever thought of just getting implants?"
"I...No. I-Oh, god! I haven't."
"Trust me you should. Your fans would appreciate it."
Karina gives her a wicked smirk, knowing full well that that would never happen. Even if Jieun would want to do that, the company would say no.
"Of course everyone would know your tits are fake. But who cares, right? At least you'd look less pathetic."
"Maybe work on your ass little more too."
Yeji speaks up from behind, her dildo still stretching out Jieun's puckered hole.
"You could put on the tightest dress and no one would see a single curve on your body."
Jieun sighs and whines in protest in their arms, trying to defend herself. She's completely fine with being used. She's fine with all four of them ruining all her holes. But the degradation still gets to her.
"I...I thought you wanted me to get less popular."
"Oh, you think because of fake tits you're gonna be more popular?"
Karina laughs at her face, while Jieun can only bite her lip, trying to hold back an orgasm. She was so desperate for one earlier. But now she doesn't dare to climax, while Karina and Yeji are basically body shaming her.
"No way. You'd lose all your real fans and only horny guys would jerk off to you."
"I'd love to see that."
Yeji groans into Jieun's ear. The older woman is small and light, but eventually even she becomes too heavy.
"The only thing you have going for you are your tight holes."
"Maybe that's what you should start selling, instead of music. What do you think?"
Karina's mocking smile makes Jieun turn her head away. But it's already too late. With an embarrassed whine leaving her lips, she orgasms hard. Her pussy clenches onto Karina's dildo, her walls tightening further and further. Her body shakes in their arms.
"Pathetic."
After all four of them put their dildos inside of her for the first time, she started to lose control. Parts of her memories don't really connect together. She remembers being bent over the sink inside the bathroom, someone using her pussy like a fleshlight. A minute later, she's sitting on the sex swing with both Yeji and Yujin trusting their strap ons into Jieun's used pussy. All memories of the night mix together into one blur. To Jieun nothing makes sense anymore. The four of them seem to have endless stamina.
In the end, Jieun finally wakes up from a deep sleep. She gets scared when she realizes she can't move. She's lying on a bed, staring at the ceiling. Her arms are tied together, but not behind her back. They're placed above her stomach. Her ankles are tied together as well. But with enough room for easy access to her pussy.
Jieun hears the same noise that seems to have woken her up. She slightly lifts her head and immediately lets it fall back onto the mattress. Shame colours her cheeks, just like the night before.
"Jieun-ssi."
Her manager calls her name softly. The four girls must've left while she was passed out. She is alone in the room, her manager standing in the doorframe. When she lifts her head again, Jieun notices his phone in his hand. He definitely took pictures of her. But now, his eyes are glued to the wide open hole between her legs. Her body is still experiencing the aftermath of her punishment.
"I hope you don't mind if I just..."
He doesn't finish his sentence. Instead, he lowers his phone and starts to unbuckle his belt. Jieun wants to say something, but quickly notices that someone stuffed her mouth with her own panties.
When her manager lets his pants drop to the floor, Jieun finally understands the message. Her lesson isn't over yet. And it never will be.
---------
Hi, everyone!
I hope you enjoyed the story. It was a little harder to write, because I've never written something like this before.
I got feedback on the other two fics before this one, specifically mentioning that some parts feel rushed and aren't connected perfectly. I'd love to use my lack of sleep as an excuse, but that wouldn't be fair to you guys. In this fic, I've tried my best to correct my mistakes from before, but I also feel like slightly rushed scenes and abruptly cut off scenes actually fit IU's experience here.
I'll try to get on top of the current problem as best as I can. But from now on, I'll prioritize quality over the schedule, which means, I might push the release dates of the other two stories a couple of days back. I hope that's okay with you guys. I'm sure you'd rather read a top tier fic a day or two later, instead of reading a sloppily written story on time. I'll let you know on Saturday, if I'm unable to post the next story on Sunday. It shouldn't take me longer than one or two extra days anyway.
I apologize for the inconvenience.
Have a great day and stay healthy!
1K notes · View notes
megumismyhusband · 10 days ago
Text
rin itoshi wasn’t the type to watch silly little rom-coms, but here he was, sitting on the couch all alone while you were out. the movie on the screen showcased a disgustingly rich man who adored his wife and showed it by spoiling her with everything money could buy—designer clothes, shoes, bags, jewelry, you name it. the woman looked happy, beaming at her husband like he’d hung the stars for her.
rin couldn’t focus on the rest of the movie. his mind snagged on that one thought: she looked happy because of all those things.
rin knew you deserved the best. no question about that. and sure, he worked hard, brought in more than enough money, but had he ever gone out of his way to spoil you like that? could you ever feel that kind of happiness with him if he didn’t? the idea gnawed at him, quiet but insistent.
the next day, he started. subtle, at first—a new designer coat left on your chair when you woke up. when you tried to ask, rin just mumbled something about how “you needed a good coat for the winter.”
then, the gifts piled up. shoes. jewelry. bags. a random cartier box sitting on the counter one morning. an envelope stuffed with tickets to an exclusive spa retreat the next. by the weekend, your closet looked like the flagship store of every luxury brand in existence.
“rin,” you called one evening, holding up a glittering necklace you swore you’d seen on a celebrity once. “what’s all this for?”
rin didn’t look up from where he was pretending to focus on his phone. “you deserve it.”
“i mean, thanks, but why?”
he seemed to hesitate, his fingers twitching at the edge of the phone. “i just… want you to be happy,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.
you tilted your head, a puzzled expression crossing your face. “you’re already making me happy, rin. i don’t need all of this stuff.”
he cleared his throat awkwardly, eyes avoiding yours. “i thought… i thought maybe you’d want it. or, i don’t know, i thought i might’ve been… i don’t know, not enough?” his voice faltered, something like worry creeping in.
you blinked at him in confusion before your lips curled into a soft, reassuring smile. “rin, you’re more than enough. i’m not going anywhere, okay?” you stepped closer, gently cupping his face with your hands. “i don’t care about the gifts, the bags, or any of that stuff. i just want you. and you’re all i need.”
he didn’t respond right away, his eyes softening as he processed your words. and then, slowly, his shoulders relaxed, his usual tense expression giving way to something far more vulnerable. the tension in his chest loosened, replaced by a warmth that made his heart flutter.
“you sure?” he asked quietly, his hands slowly finding their way to yours.
“i’m sure,” you said, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “you’ve always been enough, rin.”
your smile was so genuine, so full of love, and rin realized then that he would do anything to keep that smile on your face forever.
715 notes · View notes