#than ever go back to how i was living before | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

monzabee · 2 days ago

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run for the hills – lh44 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where fate decides to bring you back into Lewis’ life, making him question his belief in fate.

Pairing: lewis hamilton x rosberg!reader

Word Count: 9.3k

Warnings: cursing, crying, drinking and mentions of alcohol, mentions of brocedes (rip), kissing, unprotected sex (you shouldn’t be surprised at this point), oral (m receiving), hand kink, praise kink, minors dni!!

Request: “hey, Merry Christmas 🫶🏽 I was hoping I could request a Lewis smut fic where the reader is Nico Rosberg's sister (with a age gap of around 6-8 years with him and Lewis) and before 2016 they were just really close friends who just kissed once but chose to pretend it didn't happen. after years, they run into each other at a club or a party and they're pretty snappy at each other but there's a lot of tension too and they end up having sex where Lewis is really cocky and also the reader has a hand kink and praise kink? I'm so sorry if I made it too long, i love your writing <33” + “oooo please could i request something w lewis?! something gut wrenchingly angsty? sorry i don’t really have a plot in mind hhhh thank you heheh”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! HAPPY NEW YEAR, i started this fic last week and i honestly didn't think I'd finish it this quickly but here we are. don't let my words fool you, i got the request last christmas but if you know me then you know that i am not quick when it comes to working on requests (i'm working on this i promise), not that this fic is even remotely christmassy, but let’s just appreciate that it is supposed to be set during the holiday period lol. this was supposed to be a shorter one but here we are, lol, i'm not even surprised at my inability to keep things short at this point. i posted this fic and realised i forgot to copy and paste a big chunk of it so oh well. as always, feedback is appreciated, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Lewis decided he doesn’t like cold a long time ago. That’s why, being the ever-decisive person he is, he chooses to spend his winter vacationing in places like the Maldives or Bali. His decisiveness is an important part of him, given what he does for a living. When he is on the track, in his car, there is no room for hesitation – he needs to be able to make split-second decisions under intense pressure, what’s not to love about that? So, once he decided he’d rather spend his time off basking in the sun rather than freezing to death somewhere else, he never looked back. He enjoys spending his time off in someplace tropical with his family, or without his family; most of the times away from the prying eyes and camera lenses of the media.

But this time, it’s different – he's alone.

Or rather, he thought he would be alone. The villa he rented out for the duration of the month is isolated, just how he likes it. He wakes up to the sound of waves crashing against the shore right outside his windows, and the distant chirping of tropical birds to accompany him as he lounges on the large deck, overlooking the infinite expanse of blue. There are no spectators around to gauge his reaction, try to get him to speak out about his plans for the next year when he moves to Ferrari, or what he’s going to do when he eventually retires one day. He hasn’t seen anyone from the racing world for weeks, and it’s been a much-needed break. He’d usually love to spend Christmas with his family, the only time he would ever tolerate the cold being when he is with his family, but this year he just wanted to get away on his own.

There is no one around that expect anything from him. Just peace.

He’s not a hermit, of course, but he enjoys spending his time by himself mostly isolated from all the other guests of the touristic area he’s staying in. The chef that works at the villa is on call for when Lewis decides that he wants to stay in for the night, the housekeeping staff come every morning to clean up around the house, then promptly leave, providing Lewis with the privacy he so desperately needs. But other than that, and a few nights spent outside in a restaurant or a club? He is all alone, and he is not complaining about it. Another thing about Lewis Hamilton is that he doesn’t believe in fate. He believes in setting and achieving goals; after all, that’s what he’s done all his life. His success isn’t some cosmic coincidence. It’s years of sacrifice by his parents, relentless effort, and unwavering determination. So, when things happen that feel serendipitous, like running into someone from his past, he doesn’t chalk it up to destiny. He chalks it up to the sheer unpredictability of life.

And yet, as he steps out of the villa to head to a nearby beach club after dinner, he doesn’t expect to run into you, especially not after how the things ended last time, but there you are. His eyes find you at the bar with some guy next to you – he has to do a double take. Just to make sure, he tells himself. But no matter how many times his attention reverts to you, he knows it’s you. Of course, it’s you. Though he’s not a believer in fate or destiny, or whatever you might want to call it, there you are – dressed in a flowy linen dress. His first instinct is to ask the server to seat him somewhere else so that he wouldn’t have stare at you and your ‘date’ for the night. His grip on the glass in his hand tightens momentarily, and he exhales slowly, forcing himself to look away. This is not the moment, he tells himself. It’s not his business, not anymore. But still, his gaze drifts back to you. You’re laughing at something the guy says, your head tilted slightly as you sip from your drink. He can’t hear your laughter, no – but what a sound that would be to hear, he thinks for a moment.

He knows he shouldn’t care who you’re with or what you’re doing; it’s been years since the two of you shared anything beyond... well anything, really. But something about seeing you here, in this place he thought was his private retreat from the world, feels like a twist of fate – or the kind of cosmic joke he claims not to believe in. But his eyes watch you as you throw you head back in a laugh and he can practically hear the sound in his head, his mind taking him to years ago when he used to be one of the people who got to hear it first hand; when he joined your family on karting days, or when you celebrated with him when he won a race, or even back to that one time when him and Nico were trying to drive those unicycles and you kept doubling over in laughter when they fell down – something your brother did not appreciate, but Lewis couldn’t help the smile that crept on his face as he watched you from the ground.

Somethings never change, he thinks, as he notices the smallest of smiles that has crept its way onto his face, quickly disappearing the moment he catches himself. He knows it shouldn’t matter to him – let alone bother him. But old habits die hard, and the sight of your smile, that easy laugh, stirs something in him that feels like both longing and a pang of annoyance. You’ve always had a way of getting under his skin. Back then, it was teasing remarks that somehow felt more genuine than any praise he received elsewhere. He catches himself glancing your way again, his jaw tightening when the guy beside you leans in a little too close. It’s irrational, this surge of jealousy that claws at his chest. He knows he has no right to feel this way, but that doesn’t stop it from burning through him. He looks down at his drink, willing himself to focus on anything but you. But memories have a way of sneaking up on him, unbidden. The days spent at karting tracks, the shared dinners with your family, the quiet moments when it was just the two of you, talking about everything and nothing at all. Back then, it was easy. Natural. Like you were two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly, until you didn’t.

Just then, you glance over, your eyes scanning the room before they land on him. For a moment, everything stills. The laughter fades from your face, replaced by something unreadable. Surprise, maybe. Or recognition. His breath catches in his throat, and he curses himself for the way his chest tightens under your gaze. He watches as you excuse yourself, heading towards the restrooms, and he swears he has never gotten up so fast and walked so fast in his life. He doesn’t think, he just moves until he spots you in the hallway, queued behind some people waiting for the bathroom line. What kind of a club only has one bathroom? He thinks, but that’s not the point.

He clears his throat.

You turn, eyes widening in that familiar, guarded way. “Lewis.” Your lips open in shock as you glance behind him and then focus on him again, “Did- did you follow me here?”

“Were you on a date with that guy?” The words come out of his mouth before he can stop himself, his voice colder than he expects.

You blink, taken aback by the question. “Excuse me?”

He stands there, regretting the words as soon as they leave his mouth, but that doesn’t stop the irritation from creeping up his spine. His gaze flickers to the bar behind him, where the guy you were with is still talking to the bartender, oblivious to what’s going on. “I asked if you were on a date,” he repeats, a little sharper this time as he emphasises the last word.

You raise an eyebrow, the surprise on your face melting into something more guarded, a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “What if I was?” You cross your arms, your eyes narrowing. “Maybe I’m just out enjoying my night. Ever think of that?”

He feels a rush of heat in his chest. “It’s not like I care,” he mutters, though it’s clear from the edge in his voice that he does. “Just curious.”

You scoff, your lips curling into a sarcastic smile. “Sure, Lewis.”

“So?” He inquires, “Are you? On a date with that guy, I mean.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly not amused. “Are you serious right now?” you snap, your arms tightening across your chest. “You’re standing here, in the middle of a hallway, asking me about my love life? What is this, high school?”

Lewis feels the heat rise in his neck, irritation mixing with a sense of frustration he doesn’t quite understand. “I’m not asking for your life story, just... just an answer. Is it that hard?” His voice is tight, but he doesn’t back down.

You scoff again, your lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “You really think you can just waltz back in and start demanding answers like we’re still... You know what? Yes, Lewis, I’m on a date.” You throw a glance over your shoulder at the guy still sitting at the bar. “We met on the beach at the hotel I’m staying at, and I thought I’d let him treat me to a dinner and a couple of drinks before I’d let him fuck me six ways to Sunday.” You roll your eyes at someone on the queue gasping at your choice of words. “Not that it’s any of your business. Are you happy now?”

Lewis’s hand grips your wrist, a little too tight, and without warning, he’s tugging you away from the bar, his jaw clenched. “Come on,” he mutters, his tone low and urgent, as he steers you towards the back exit. You’re caught off guard, stumbling to keep up with his forceful pace, your heart hammering in your chest.

“What the hell, Lewis? Let go of me!” you snap, yanking your arm free once you're outside in the chill night air. The chill hits you like a slap, the heat of the club’s atmosphere fading behind you as the door slams shut.

“Seriously?” he spits, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and frustration. “You’re gonna play it like that?”

You take a step back, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t know what game you're playing at, but I’m not interested. What the hell was that back there? Dragging me out like I’m some kind of... of property?”

He glares at you, his fists clenched at his sides. “You’re unbelievable.” His voice rises, sharp and cutting. “I ask you a simple question, and you throw that crap at me? What the hell did you think I was supposed to do? Just stand there and pretend like I didn’t care?”

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Pretend like you don’t care? That’s rich coming from you. You don’t get to just waltz in, after all this time, and act like you can demand answers, Lewis. Like you have any right to know what’s going on in my life.”

“Your brother would be so disappointed in you right now.” His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the air between you two freezes. The breeze picks up, but the sudden silence makes the world feel too loud.

“You don’t get to talk about my brother,” you seethe, as Lewis's face hardens, his jaw tensing, but it’s the look in his eyes that hits hardest — it’s a mixture of hurt and fury, both so raw, you almost feel sorry for what you’ve just unleashed.

“What did you just say?” His voice is low, almost dangerously so, the words slipping through clenched teeth.

You swallow, but it doesn’t help the sharp edge in your voice. “You heard me. You don’t get to talk about him, you don’t get to fuck up my life and you don’t get to come back here acting like you still have any claim on me or my life.” You’re breathing heavily now, the anger and hurt mixing into a bitter cocktail that you can’t quite swallow – funnily enough, Lewis can smell the cocktail you had earlier. “You left. You made your choice, Lewis. And now you don’t get to barge back in and pretend like I owe you anything.”

Lewis stands in front of you, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His eyes are dark, his jaw tight as he processes your words. He doesn’t know when the two of you got closer together, he can practically feel the anger radiating off you, “You think I don’t know that?” he spits, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You think I don’t know what I did?” His voice cracks slightly, the vulnerability slipping out before he can stop it. “I fucked up, alright? I fucked up more than you’ll ever understand. We all did – me, Nico, you.”

“You don’t get to make me feel guilty about this, Lewis. You don’t get to act like I’m the one who fucked everything up.” Your voice shakes, but you keep going, the words coming faster, more bitter. “You kissed me and called it an ‘accident’, a fluke. You fought with Nico every chance you got. I had to pick up the pieces on my own.”

Lewis flinches at your words, but his anger doesn’t dissipate—if anything, it only sharpens. His hands remain balled into fists at his sides, but there’s something else behind his eyes now, something raw, something almost desperate. “We wouldn’t have worked out,” he mutters, it’s something that he said to himself time and time again to convince himself of it, “I am– was your brother’s friend, you–”

“You were my friend, too!” You exclaim, your hands swatting at his arms, chest – anywhere you can reach. “You left me, as if I meant nothing to you! You stole my first kiss and shattered my life to pieces on the same day!” You manage to get in some good hits despite Lewis’ attempts to calm you down, and the lump in your throat makes it harder for you to continue talking, “Do you know how many times I wondered if you kissed me just to piss Nico off? Do you know how that feels?”

“What?” He asks, his voice low. Each hit, each accusation, it stings. But nothing hits harder than the raw emotion in your eyes – hurt, betrayal, and the weight of everything he left behind. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words catch in his throat. “You think I kissed you to get at Nico?” he says finally, his voice quieter now but no less intense. There’s an edge of disbelief, of hurt, as if the idea itself cuts deeper than your accusations. “Do you really think so little of me?”

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, holding yourself together in the face of his raw honesty. “I don’t know what to think, Lewis. What was I supposed to think back then? You shut me out. You made me feel like it never happened – like I never happened.”

“You were twenty-three years old,” he points out, “our age difference–”

“Oh please,” you scoff, pushing at his chest one last time, “you’ve fucked girls younger than that.”

Lewis flinches at your words, as if they’ve struck a nerve he didn’t even know was exposed. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. “You don’t get to throw that in my face,” he finally says, his voice low and clipped, tinged with a kind of frustration that feels different from before.

“Why?” You ask, head cocked to the side. “I can’t comment on you fucking other people, but you can question my actions because I want to fuck–”

“Say ‘fuck’ one more time and I swear I’ll–”

“—what, Lewis?” you snap, cutting him off before he can finish his threat. “You’ll what? Walk away again? Pretend this conversation never happened, just like you did last time?”

His jaw clenches, the muscles in his face tightening as he tries to rein in his emotions. “Don’t push me,” he warns, his voice low and taut, but there’s no real menace in it—only desperation.

“Oh, I’m pushing?” You laugh bitterly, throwing your hands up. “I’m the one pushing? You’re the one who showed up here, dredging up every memory I’ve spent years trying to bury. Don’t you dare put this on me, Lewis.”

“You think this is easy for me?” he shoots back, his voice rising. “You think I don’t hate myself for what I did? For what I didn’t do? I’ve lived with this every single day, and you—”

“Fuck you!” you shout, stepping closer, your finger jabbing into his chest. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck–”

His hands shoot up, grabbing your wrists – not harshly, but firmly enough to stop your movements. You don’t even fully register how quickly he pushes you against the wall, “You think I ran off and lived some perfect life?” he hisses, his face inches from yours as he inhales deeply. “You think I didn’t miss you every goddamn day? You think I didn’t lie awake at night, wishing I’d had the guts to ask you to stay?”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, the rawness in his voice leaving you momentarily speechless. For a moment, the anger in his eyes softens, replaced by something else – something that feels far too close to the hope you’ve been trying to suppress. “Well... yeah.” You inwardly cringe how your voice sounds so weak, but Lewis tilts your chin back to make you look at him.

“Is that so?” He mumbles, thumb caressing your chin as his eyes hungrily take in how your chest moves with each deep breath your inhale and exhale.

Your breath hitches as his thumb lingers, his gaze dropping to your lips like he’s fighting every instinct to close the distance between you. “Lewis...” you start, but his name comes out softer than you intend, more of a plea than the warning you meant it to be.

“What?” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous, but there’s a softness to it, an undercurrent of vulnerability that sends your heart racing. “What do you want me to do, huh? Walk away again? Because I can’t. Not this time.”

You shake your head slightly, but his grip on your chin keeps you from fully looking away. “I don’t know what I want,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “I don’t even know how to feel about you anymore.”

His eyes darken, and his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans in, his forehead almost brushing yours. “Then let me remind you,” he says, his voice a low rasp.

Your pulse quickens, every nerve in your body screaming at you to push him away – or pull him closer and he tension between you is suffocating. “Don’t,” you whisper, but your voice wavers, betraying the battle waging inside you.

“Don’t what?” he asks, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. “Don’t do this?” You don’t answer, your throat too tight, your mind too clouded with memories, anger, and something else you’re not ready to name. He waits, his breath mingling with yours, his patience stretching thin. “Say the word,” he whispers, his voice rough with restraint. “Tell me to stop, and I will. I will let you go back and take him back to your room and do whatever you want.”

But you don’t say it. You can’t. Because as much as you hate him, as much as you want to scream at him, cry, and push him away... you also want this. Want him.

And Lewis knows it.

His hand releases your wrist, sliding down to your waist as his other hand stays on your chin, tilting your face toward him. The kiss that follows isn’t soft, isn’t sweet – it’s desperate, raw, and filled with years of unspoken words. It’s anger and longing, heartbreak, and desire, all crashing together in a way that steals your breath and sends your heart into overdrive. A softer kiss might have been what you wanted, but Lewis knows this is what you need. His body presses against yours, and your hands instinctively find his shoulders, clinging to him as if letting go would leave you falling apart. His lips are warm and insistent, the taste of him intoxicating. Every move, every touch, feels like he’s trying to make up for everything he never said, everything he left behind.

The kiss deepens, each second unravelling more of the carefully constructed armour you’ve built around your heart. His fingers grip your waist tighter, grounding you even as everything else feels like it’s spinning. You can feel the heat radiating off him with every press of his body against yours. Your mind screams at you to stop, to think, to pull away before you lose yourself completely – but your body betrays you. The years of hurt, anger, and confusion dissolve into the fire burning between you, ignited by a kiss that’s as much a battle as it is a surrender.

Lewis pulls back just enough to let you breathe, his lips still hovering close, his forehead resting against yours. His breath is hot against your skin, his voice low and rough when he finally speaks. “You still want to go back and fuck your little lover boy?”

“Who?” You mumble, breathless as a result of the kiss as your eyes become heavy with something you can’t quite describe.

Lewis smirks, a glint of triumph flashing in his dark eyes. "Exactly," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your waist in slow, deliberate circles. His confidence is maddening, but the heat between you makes it impossible to summon the indignation you’d usually feel.

You try to muster a response, something sharp and cutting to put him back in his place, but the way his gaze drops to your lips again makes the words dissolve before they even form. “Don’t do that,” you manage, though your voice lacks the conviction you intended.

“Do what?” he asks innocently, though the rasp in his tone betrays his intent.

“Act like this changes everything.”

His smirk falters, replaced by a seriousness that roots you in place. “It doesn’t change everything,” he admits, his voice quieter now, almost tender. “But it changes something. Doesn’t it?”

Your heart pounds against your ribs as his words sink in. You hate how easily he disarms you, how effortlessly he pulls you back into his orbit no matter how much you’ve tried to escape it. But deep down, you know he’s right. “I hate you,” you whisper, though even you can hear the weakness in your words.

“I know,” he replies, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your skin like he’s memorizing every inch of you. “And I hate myself for making you feel that way.”

The sincerity in his voice cuts through the haze, making your chest tighten. But before you can think about it, you find yourself tugging on the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, pulling him closer to yourself as you mumble, “Kiss me again.”

Your hands, which moments ago were pushing him away, now find their way into his hair, pulling him closer, as if to anchor yourself in the storm he’s unleashed within you. Lewis doesn’t hold back. His grip tightens on your waist, pulling you flush against him, the wall at your back the only thing keeping you steady. The kiss deepens, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that borders on desperation, as though he’s afraid this moment might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. When the need for air becomes undeniable, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours. Both of you are breathing heavily, the space between you charged with everything unsaid. “Tell me you didn’t feel that,” he says, his voice hoarse, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

You can’t answer right away, your heart hammering so loudly in your chest it drowns out any coherent thought. But eventually, you manage to find your voice. “I hate you,” you whisper, but there’s no conviction behind the words. They sound hollow, even to your own ears.

He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “No, you don’t.”

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” you snap, but the edge in your voice falters.

“I’m not,” he murmurs, his gaze unwavering. “I’m telling you what I see. And I see you... still here. Still looking at me like that.” His hand trails down to your hip, his touch light but grounding. “If you hated me, you would’ve walked away by now.”

You close your eyes, willing yourself to regain some semblance of control, but it’s impossible with him standing this close, his presence overwhelming. “This doesn’t change anything,” you say, though it feels more like you’re trying to convince yourself than him.

“Maybe not,” he concedes, his voice softer now. “But it’s a start.” You don’t say anything to agree or refute his statement, and after a brief pause, he straightens, fixies your dress and tries to fix your hair as well. “Come on,” he says, “I’ll take you back.”

“But, my bag,” you mutter, pushing out your lower lip in a pout when you realise your bag is on the floor. Lewis has to restrain himself when he sees your lips all puffed up because of him. Your voice is whiny, and he realises you’re slurring your words a little bit when you tug on his shirt, “I don’t wanna leave my bag here.”

Lewis looks at you for a moment, his expression softening as he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your skin with the same tenderness he’s shown all night despite all your fighting. With a soft exhale, Lewis bends down to pick up your bag, holding it out to you with the same quiet care. “Don’t make that face,” he murmurs, his voice teasing but laced with something tender. “You really wanna go back to that room, after everything that just happened?”

You look at him, a mix of confusion and desire swirling inside you. “I don’t know what I want,” you admit, the honesty slipping out before you can stop it. The words feel raw, vulnerable, but there’s something about his presence, the way he’s here, still so close, that makes you feel safe enough to say it.

Lewis doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, his eyes soften, his thumb grazing the strap of your bag as he watches you closely, as though he’s searching for something in your expression. Finally, he steps closer again, the space between you narrowing once more. “I get it,” he says quietly. “But I’m not letting you go home alone tonight.”

The words send a shiver down your spine. You want to protest, to push him away, but there’s something in his gaze, the way he’s looking at you now, that makes you second-guess everything you thought you wanted. You hesitate for a moment longer, the weight of your thoughts heavy in the air, but the pull between you is undeniable. It’s the kind of pull that’s magnetic, that doesn’t let you escape even when you try to resist.

Finally, you nod, the decision feeling both like a surrender and a choice you can’t take back. “Okay,” you murmur, your voice barely audible. “Take me back, then.”

You don’t even remember getting into his car, but you do remember the smug look he shot at your date – Carl, you think – when he helped you through the club with a firm hand on your back. The villa Lewis rented for his little getaway is entirely what you expect it to be – modern, grand, and secluded enough so no one uninvited would know he is there and bother him. The couch in the living room looks way too inviting and you make a mental note to avoid it for now. Sitting on it might make this whole situation feel too real, too comfortable, and you’re not ready for that. You glance around the space instead, taking in the clean lines of the modern furniture, the polished wood floors, and the sprawling windows that offer an unobstructed view of the moonlit ocean. You walk towards the windows, eyes taking in the view from inside the villa. The ocean stretches out endlessly before you, its surface shimmering under the moonlight. The soft sound of the waves crashing against the shore is faintly audible even through the glass, a gentle hum that seems to echo the turmoil in your chest.

You wrap your arms around yourself, partly to steady your nerves and partly to shield yourself from the vulnerability creeping up on you. The view is breathtaking, but it does little to quiet the storm of emotions swirling inside you. You faintly hear Lewis calling out your name, but as if you are in a trance, you can’t take your eyes off the view in front of you. His voice calls out to you again, softer this time, closer. “Hey,” he says, and you feel the warmth of his presence before you even see him. Lewis’s reflection appears in the glass, his dark eyes fixed on you as he stands just behind you.

You finally tear your gaze away from the ocean and turn to face him, your arms still wrapped protectively around yourself. “It’s beautiful,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder might shatter the fragile moment.

Lewis nods, his expression unreadable as he follows your gaze back to the window. “It is,” he agrees, but there’s a weight to his tone, as if he’s not just talking about the view. His eyes flicker back to you, searching your face. “But it doesn’t seem like it’s helping much.”

You let out a shaky laugh, more to fill the silence than anything else. “It’s not that simple, Lewis.”

“Nothing ever is,” he replies, stepping closer until there’s only a breath of space between you. “But I’m here. You don’t have to deal with whatever this is alone.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into it. “I don’t know what to do with you,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “With... us.”

He exhales deeply, his hand lifting as though he wants to touch you but hesitates. “You don’t have to figure that out right now,” he says, his voice steady. “I just want to make sure you’re okay tonight. That’s all that matters to me.”

Something about his words, his presence, eases the knot in your chest, if only slightly. “I don’t even know where to start,” you murmur, more to yourself than him.

“Then don’t,” he says simply, his voice carrying a quiet reassurance. “Just be here. With me.”

You look up at him, your eyes searching his face for any sign of pretense or ulterior motives, but all you see is the same man who’s managed to undo you with a single glance. “Show me your room.”

“We don’t have to do that.” His eyebrows furrow as he reaches for your cheek, “That not why I brought you here.”

“Isn’t it?” You try to joke, but his deep sigh is a sign of his disapproval. “I know that’s not why you brought me here, but it can be one of the reasons you brought me here.”

“Can it?” He drawls, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“For God’s sake, Lewis.” You sigh, turning your body towards the man standing next to you. “Do I need to beg you for you to fuck me?”

Lewis’s smirk falters, his expression shifting into something deeper, darker, but undeniably tender. “Don’t,” he murmurs, his voice low and edged with restraint as he steps closer. His hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You don’t need to beg me for anything. Not now, not ever.”

The intensity in his gaze makes your breath catch, and for a moment, the air between you feels electric. “Then fuck me,” you whisper, your voice trembling with equal parts frustration and desire. “If you want me, show me.”

He closes his eyes briefly, like he’s steadying himself, and when he opens them again, the resolve in his expression takes your breath away. “You think I don’t want you?” he asks, his tone low but firm. “You don’t know how hard it is to hold back, to stop myself from–” He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening as if even admitting it is too much. He reaches for one of your hands, freeing from your hold and places it on his crotch. “See what you do to me?”

The crude act manages to steal a gasp from you, your eyes widening at how hard he already is. “Lewis,” you mutter, he responds with an affirmative hum, “show me your bedroom.”

He takes your hand, his grip firm but careful, and leads you down a sleek hallway. The sound of your heels clicking against the polished wood floor echoes softly, a counterpoint to the pounding of your heart. When he pushes open the door to his bedroom, you’re momentarily distracted by how much the space reflects him. The massive bed dominates the room, its crisp white sheets and plush pillows inviting. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the silver glow of the moon, casting the room in a soft, ethereal light. The massive bed dominates the room, its crisp white sheets and plush pillows inviting. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the silver glow of the moon, casting the room in a soft light.

You walk towards the centre of the room, the corner of your lip trapped between your teeth as you glance at Lewis over your shoulder before you run towards the bed and throw yourself onto the soft bedding. Lewis watches you with an amused smirk as you sprawl across the bed, your carefree motion starkly contrasting the simmering tension in the air. “Comfortable, baby?” he asks, his tone teasing, but the heat in his eyes betrays his calm façade.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, giving him a challenging look. “Very.” Then you narrow your eyes at him, “But don’t call me baby, I am not your baby.”

He chuckles, low and throaty, as he steps closer, loosening the top button of his shirt with a deliberate slowness that sends a shiver down your spine. “No?” he muses, stopping at the edge of the bed. His eyes roam over you, drinking in every detail as if committing you to memory.

Your breath hitches when he leans over, placing a hand on either side of your body, effectively caging you in. His face is so close to yours now that you can feel the warmth of his breath. “I like seeing you like this,” he admits, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Relaxed, it suits you.”

A flush creeps up your neck at his words, but you refuse to let him have the upper hand completely. Your fingers trail up his chest, over the defined planes of his torso, and then slide beneath the open collar of his shirt. “I could say the same about you,” you reply, your voice soft but loaded with meaning.

His response is immediate. His lips crash against yours with a fervour that steals your breath, his hands gripping your waist as he pulls you flush against him. The kiss is raw and consuming, years of tension and unspoken words pouring into the connection. When he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing ragged, he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

You smile, your hands slipping down to the waistband of his pants. “Why don’t you show me?”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. In one smooth motion, he lifts you, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he carries you to the centre of the bed. He chuckles at the sound of your giggling, as he carefully lays you back down on the soft bed. His fingers work diligently to get you out of your dress, pulling the linen garment over your head as Lewis lets his eyes hungrily take you in. When your dress finally falls away, leaving you in nothing but lace and skin, Lewis takes a slow breath, his eyes scanning over your body with a mixture of awe and hunger. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice thick with admiration. His fingers trace the curve of your waist, his touch sending shivers of desire through your body.

You arch slightly into his touch, your breath coming faster, and you meet his gaze with a challenge in your eyes. “Are you going to just gawk at me, or are you going to actually do something?”

He smirks, a flash of cockiness in his eyes. “Patience,” he teases, but there’s no mistaking the hunger in his voice as he lowers himself over you. With one hand bracing himself above you, his other hand slides down between your bodies, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His touch is slow, almost teasing, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as his fingers inch closer to where you need him most. “You like this?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly, his lips just inches from yours. His fingers find the lace of your underwear, his touch deliberate as he pulls it aside and slips a finger inside you, making you gasp. “You’re fucking perfect,” he groans, his lips crashing against yours as he deepens the kiss, his finger working inside you with a slow, steady rhythm. You can feel the heat building between you, the tension in the room thickening with every passing second.

“Don- don’t say ‘fuck’, Lewis,” you tease him with a small smirk as your breathing becomes deeper, “it’s unbecoming.”

“You’ll see who will be coming in a few minutes, baby.” He chuckles at the way your expression changes at the mention of the word, his fingers moving in deeper as your let out a disapproving moan, “What? You don’t like it when I call you that?”

With another dissenting hum and a raise of your hips to meet his hand, you let out a long exhale. “I’m not your baby Lewis, stop calling me that.” With the patience that only he can tolerate, he continues the leisurely movements of his fingers. “I want more, please.”

Lewis tuts at your words softly, chuckling as he takes in your reactions. “I think you have a very important decision to make here,” he murmurs, his eyes suddenly painted with something more serious, “because once I fuck you, I’m not letting you go.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” The words come out choppy as your breathing gets more erratic, his fingers stubbornly keeping to the slow rhythm he’s set.

Lewis's gaze sharpens, the challenge in your tone sparking a flame in his dark eyes. “Oh, you’ll see it, alright,” he murmurs, his voice a velvety promise as his hand withdraws briefly, leaving you breathless and aching. Before you can protest, he moves with deliberate precision, tugging his shirt over his head and revealing the expanse of his chest – sculpted, strong, and utterly captivating. “Get on your hands and knees.”

The command leaves no room for debate, his voice firm but laden with heat. Your heart skips a beat as you meet his gaze, a mixture of defiance and curiosity flickering in your expression. “Bold of you to assume I'll listen,” you quip, though the slight tremor in your voice betrays your anticipation.

Lewis smirks, leaning down until his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Oh, you'll listen,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “Because you know exactly how patient I can be, but the same can’t be said for you.”

A shiver runs through you at his words, and before you realize it, you’ve complied, shifting onto your hands and knees in the centre of the bed. You can practically feel his gaze on you, then all of a sudden, you can actually feel him behind you, the bed dipping slightly under his weight as he moves closer. “Good girl,” he says softly, his voice rich with approval, and the way your body reacts to the praise is almost embarrassing. “Oh, my beautiful darling.” His hands skim over your back, tracing the curve of your spine before settling on your hips. The grip is firm, possessive, sending a thrill through you.

The sounds of him taking himself out of his trousers and pumping cock in his hand is pure debauchery, yet you find yourself pushing your hips back against his thighs. Lewis's low chuckle reverberates through you, a sound full of confidence and desire. His hand tightens on your hips, steadying you as he leans in, his chest brushing against your back. The heat of his skin against yours makes you arch into him instinctively, earning another throaty laugh from him. “You're eager,” he teases, his voice dark and dripping with amusement. “I like you like this.”

You bite your lip to suppress the needy sound threatening to escape, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Maybe you're just slow,” you retort breathlessly, glancing back at him over your shoulder, a challenging look in your eyes.

Lewis growls low in his throat, his hands sliding across your back. “Careful,” he warns, though there's a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. “Push me too far, and I won't be nice.” Your breath catches at his words, but before you can form a response, you feel him guiding himself to your entrance, teasingly dragging against you. The deliberate slowness makes your frustration peak, and you push your hips back, a wordless plea for him to stop teasing.

“Patience, darling,” he murmurs, his voice a husky promise. But even as he says it, he shifts forward, entering you with a deliberate motion that steals the breath from your lungs.

The sensation is overwhelming, every nerve in your body alight as he holds still for a moment, letting you adjust. “Lewis,” you breathe, your voice shaky with need.

His hands gently caress over the skin of your back and hips, soothing over the sharp feeling of Lewis easing himself into you in small movements of his hips. “You’re doing so well,” he shushes your whiny moans, his hands tracing your sides, grounding you. “You feel perfect, we’re almost there, darling.”

“A-almost?” Your voice cuts his words off, voice shaky with need, “It’s not going to fit, Lewis, I can’t-”

He leans over you, his lips pressing tender kisses along your spine, each one sending a ripple of warmth through you. His voice is a soothing murmur in your ear. “Relax for me, darling. Let me take care of you.” Your breathing steadies under his touch, the initial sting giving way to a fullness that leaves you breathless as he pushes himself fully into you. You arch your back slightly, pressing into him as his hands continue their gentle exploration of your body. The tenderness in his actions contrasts with the raw desire in his voice, creating a heady mix that leaves you yearning for more. “That's it,” he praises, his tone soft but laced with heat. “You’re incredible. See? We made it fit.”

“I feel so full.” You manage to let out, voice whiny as the moan is ripped from the back of your throat. “It feels so good, Lewis.”

He begins to move, a slow, steady rhythm that builds gradually, allowing you to feel every inch of him. The friction ignites a fire within you, and you can’t help the soft moans that escape your lips, each sound spurring him on. His grip on your hips tightens, his pace increasing as he finds the perfect rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. “You feel so good,” he groans, his voice low and thick with desire. His hand slides up your spine, tangling in your hair as he pulls you back slightly, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re mine, you know that? Only mine.”

The moan that comes from you is dissenting, causing Lewis to slide his hand down your throat to use the leverage to pull you up on your knees, pressed against his chest. “No,” you say, hands extending backwards to keep holding onto him in an attempt to keep up with the rhythm in which he is fucking you now.

His words send a shiver down your spine, the possessiveness in his tone igniting something primal within you. “Say it,” he commands, his voice rough as his movements grow more urgent. “Say you're mine.”

Your breaths are shallow, punctuated by soft whimpers as you cling to him, trying to keep pace with his movements. The way he pulls you against him, his hand firm on your throat, sends a jolt of heat through your core. His hand is firm around your throat, but not uncomfortable to the point that you can’t breathe.

“I’m not yours,” you gasp defiantly, your voice trembling with every move he makes.

Lewis growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your back as his hand tightens slightly around your neck—not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you in place. “We’ll see about that,” he says darkly.

His hips snap against you harder now, his rhythm relentless as if determined to prove you wrong. The overwhelming sensation leaves you gasping, your fingers clutching at his forearm for balance. His free hand slides down your body, gripping your waist to hold you steady as he drives deeper, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

“Still not mine?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. His tone is equal parts teasing and commanding, daring you to resist him. “Still think someone else can fuck you better than I can?” You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moans spilling from you, but the way he moves, the way he claims you, has you crumbling. “Say it,” he repeats, his voice a low growl that echoes through your very core.

Torn between defiance and surrender, you meet his challenge with a shaky breath. “I’m-” you begin, but he cuts you off with a particularly deep thrust that has you crying out his name instead.

“Hmm?” Lewis chuckles darkly, clearly enjoying your struggle. His grip on your neck softens slightly as his fingers trace the column of your throat in a soothing gesture. “Come on, baby, just say it.”

“I’m-” The word catches in your throat as he shifts slightly, the angle of his hips hitting a spot that sends a jolt of pleasure through you. A broken moan escapes your lips instead, and Lewis smirks against your ear, clearly revelling in your unravelling.

“Say it,” he demands again, his voice low and demanding. His hand slides from your throat to your jaw, turning your face just enough that his lips can brush against the corner of your mouth. The gentleness of the gesture is at odds with the raw intensity of his movements, leaving you breathless.

“I’m yours,” you finally gasp, the words tumbling out in a mix of desperation and surrender.

Lewis freezes for a heartbeat, his chest heaving against your back as the admission settles between you. Then, with a triumphant growl, he resumes his pace, his grip on you tightening as if he intends to imprint himself into every fibber of your being.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. His lips trail along your shoulder, leaving a path of heat in their wake. “Say it again.”

“Yours,” you whisper, the word coming easier this time, though the weight of it still sends a shiver through you.

His rhythm grows more urgent, his body moving with a single-minded purpose as he pushes you both toward the edge. “Never forget it,” he groans, his voice rough and ragged, “now come for me.” You blame the singular cocktail you had three or so hours ago for your compliance to his words, as you feel the wave of pleasure crash over you, obliterating any coherent thought. Your body trembles uncontrollably in his arms, your cries of release echoing in the room as he whispers sweet words of praise in your ear.

There are a million other things Lewis expects you to say, but you surprise him with a, “I wanna taste you.”

Lewis's movements still, his breath catching at your unexpected words. He pulls back slightly, his dark eyes locking with yours, filled with surprise and a flicker of intrigue. A slow, mischievous grin spreads across his face. “Oh, is that so?” he murmurs, his voice tinged with amusement and undeniable heat.

You nod, your cheeks flushing under his intense gaze, but there’s a spark of confidence in your eyes. “I really do,” you say softly, the tremble in your voice betraying both your boldness and your eagerness.

He studies you for a moment longer, his expression shifting to one of reverence laced with desire. "Well," he says, his voice low and gravelly, "who am I to deny you, darling?" With a gentleness that contrasts the fervour of moments ago, Lewis guides you to sit up, his hands warm and steady as they support you. He shifts to the edge of the bed, leaning back slightly, giving you room and letting you take control. His gaze never leaves you, his dark eyes glinting with anticipation. You settle between his thighs, your hands skimming over his skin, marvelling at the way his muscles tense under your touch. There's a sense of power in the way his body responds to you, in the way his breathing hitches when your lips brush against him. You look up at him, meeting his gaze with a small smile before leaning in. The moment your mouth closes around him, Lewis groans low in his throat, his head falling back as his control begins to slip. His hands find their way to your hair, his touch gentle but firm as he guides you, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. “Just like that,” he praises, his voice rough with pleasure. “You’re perfect, baby.”

The sound of his voice, the way he says your name like it’s the only thing that matters, spurs you on, and you lose yourself in the moment, intent on unravelling him the way he did you. Your lips move with deliberate intent, your tongue tracing teasing paths that have him groaning your name like a prayer. His fingers tighten in your hair, a gentle tug that makes you glance up at him through your lashes. The sight of him – head tilted back, his lips parted as he struggles for breath, sends a thrill through you.

“God, you’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice ragged and filled with awe. His eyes find yours, and the intensity of his gaze makes your pulse quicken. “You have no idea what you do to me.” Encouraged by his reaction, you take him deeper, your hands gripping his thighs to steady yourself. The sound he makes is primal, his control slipping further as his hips jerk involuntarily. He tries to hold himself back, but you can tell he’s close to losing himself completely. “Baby,” Lewis rasps, his voice thick with need, “you keep that up, and I won’t last.” You hum around him in response, the vibration pulling another groan from his lips. His hand slips from your hair to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a tender contrast to the raw passion between you. “Look at me,” he whispers, his tone almost pleading.

You meet his gaze, and the connection between you feels electric. His chest heaves as his breaths come in quick, shallow bursts, his control hanging by a thread. “I’m so close,” he warns, his voice a low growl. “Do you want me to stop?” The shake of your head is all the answer he needs. With a curse under his breath, he lets go, his body shuddering as he gives himself over to the waves of pleasure crashing through him. He holds your gaze the entire time, his grip on you tightening as if anchoring himself to the moment.

When he calms down, he collapses back against the bed, his chest rising and falling with deep, uneven breaths. You sit back after swallowing, a triumphant smile playing on your lips as you take in the sight of him, utterly undone. “That was fun,” you rasp as you take in the sight in front of you.

Lewis chuckles softly, the sound low and breathless, as he drapes an arm over his face, trying to regain his composure. “Fun?” he repeats, his voice laced with amusement and lingering satisfaction. He peeks at you from under his arm, his dark eyes glinting with a mixture of adoration and disbelief. “You’ve got no idea what you just did to me.”

You tilt your head, feigning innocence as you crawl up the bed to lie beside him. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” you tease, your voice light but with a hint of pride.

He turns toward you, propping himself up on one elbow, his free hand reaching out to trace lazy circles along your arm. “You’re dangerous,” he murmurs, his tone soft yet filled with a reverence that makes your cheeks flush. “And I’m completely at your mercy.”

You laugh, the sound light and genuine, as you nuzzle into his touch. “I think you like it that way,” you reply, your fingers grazing over his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your touch.

“More than you know,” he admits, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your temple. The tender gesture contrasts with the raw intensity you’d just shared, and it sends a warm flutter through your chest.

For a moment, silence falls between you, the only sound the soft rustling of the sheets and the slowing rhythm of his breathing. Then Lewis shifts, his arm slipping around your waist to pull you closer. “You know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

The weight of his words settles over you, and you glance up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his gaze. “Good,” you whisper, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He smiles back, a look of pure contentment spreading across his face as he tightens his hold on you. “That’s all I get?”

“We’ll see how you feel after we get home,” you mumble as you run a finger along the curve of his jaw, “you might be bored of me by then.”

“Home,” Lewis muses quietly, breaking the silence and ignoring your words. His voice is softer now, contemplative. “I like the sound of that.”

You glance up at him, his face so close that you can see the faintest hint of vulnerability in his expression. It stirs something deep within you – a mix of tenderness and longing that takes you by surprise.

“Yeah,” you murmur, leaning in to brush your lips against his. “Me too.”

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fluff

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 3 days ago

Text

Shhh....

Summary: Being a single parent comes with all kinds of challenges. Challenges that are so much easier to deal with when the father of your daughter's best friend is there to take of your more personal needs. And if that meant sneaking off with you into a laundry room at a garden party? Well who would he be to complain?

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.2k

Rating: E

Warnings: smut (semi public sex, unprotected sex, oral f receiving, cumplay) friends with benefits to lovers, a lot of flirting, fluff?

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Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

He didn’t know exactly why he agreed to go to this garden party. It was one of the few Saturdays he had off and he wanted it to spend with Sarah. She’s been in middle school since the summer and with all the changes that brought they only had little time to hang out in the last few weeks.

So when Sarah brought the invitation for this garden party that the parents of one of her new classmates were throwing, he wanted to decline. But Sarah told him she really wanted to go, and that if he had something else to do that day, he could just drop her off and pick her up after?

But of course Joel Miller went with her.

And it wasn’t that bad. The drinks were cold, the food was good and meeting all the new parents at the beginning of the year was a good thing too. Even if he already had forgotten most of their names. There were a few faces he recognised from Sarah’s elementary school, so he kept talking to them, all while having an eye out on Sarah who was playing soccer with some kids at the other side of the backyard.

„Fancy seeing you here,“ he heard your voice behind him, and his eyes closed before he took a deep breath and turned around, fighting unsuccessfully against the smile that sneaked to his lips as he looked down at you.

„Could say the same,“ he winked and your smile widened.

This party just got interesting.

You were running late.

The plan was to leave around twenty minutes ago but Charlotte, your daughter, just couldn’t decide on what to wear. She just turned twelve and if this last half year was a preview on how puberty would be with her, than you were in for a wild ride.

Usually you used the weekends to charge your mental batteries by having as little contact to the outside world as possible after working at a bakery and having to be social all week.

But Charlotte had brought the invitation for the garden party a couple weeks ago, begging you to go because Sarah would be there too.

And where Sarah was, her father wasn’t far behind which was why you said yes in the end and spend way too much time on deciding what to wear before you decided on a light summer dress.

It had been a while since you seen him, and you couldn’t even remember the last time the two of you had found the time to have sex.

Because ever since Charlotte and Sarah became best friends some time back in pre school, you and Joel started sleeping together occasionally. The first time happened after a night out at the bar where you ran into him, both of your kids on a sleepover. It had been positively mind-blowing and you were more than eager to agree to keep this going when you both needed a release.

His wife had left him and Sarah before the girl turned one and your husband had used your pregnancy to fuck his secretary because apparently carrying his child made you unattractive to him.

And with both you and Joel being very devoted single parents, both of your love lives was pretty much non existent. You wouldn't say it was frequent now, but every month or two you would find some hours where you’d meet up at either of your houses, not leaving before both of you were more than satisfied.

And you didn’t know if it was the secrecy of the whole thing, but my god the way Joel Miller knew how to play your body to the point of a crying orgasm was addictive.

But now you hadn’t really seen him in almost three months.

With the school change and summer break things were busy not only for you, but for him too. You texted occasionally, trying to figure out a time to meet up, but business was picking up for Miller construction and Joel used the little time he had off to spend with Sarah.

Something you could understand.

So you were excited to see him as you parked your car right behind his on the street after Charlotte finally had chosen a dress to wear. You knew all that time deciding on her outfit would be for nothing once they played soccer, but hey.

Charlotte was off to see Sarah as soon as you stepped into the garden, many people already mingling. The smell of fresh BBQ lingered in the air and before you even had taken two steps inside you already had an iced tea in hand, the host, one of the moms of a new classmate of Charlotte that you had met before, welcoming you.

You were glad that Charlotte and Sarah where in the same class, both of them loving each other like sisters. With Joel working so much you had Sarah over more often lately, seeing Joel only when he picked her up.

She was very well behaved and deep down you got the impression she loved hanging around with just girls for a change. Of course Joel was the best father, but there are some things that teenage girls don’t want to speak to their dads about.

Such as how to use the eyeliner she secretly bought correctly or the awkward question about what to use, pads or tampons or period underwear?

It was nice that she trusted you with questions like that.

You knew from Joel that she had struggled to not have a mom like other kids and he told you it was nice that she now had you to ask all those questions.

Not that you were her mom, or wanted to be.

Well…. Okay maybe sometimes deep into the night when you looked at the empty space in bed next to you, you might imagine how it would be if Joel would be there, every day. How could you not?

He was the hot single dad every mom in class always wanted and you were the one who had him. Occasionally. But still.

You let your eyes gaze through the backyard before you saw the broad shoulders of the man you had hoped would be here.

You could feel the butterflies in your belly as you walked over to him and fuck that smile he gave you when he turned around…

„Work still keeping you busy?“ You asked a little while later, both of you with a plate of food in front of you, sitting at one of the tables outside.

„Yeah. Can’t remember when I got more than five hours of sleep at night the last time,“ he groaned and you reached one hand over to rest on his knee before you could stop yourself.

„You got to take care of yourself, honey. Let that brother of yours pick up some slack too,“ you winked and he gave you a bashful smile before one of his hands came to rest on top of yours.

„He does. As a matter of fact he’s taking over the next project so I have some more free time to spend with Sarah,“ he said and you hummed.

„And if I’m being completely honest there’s this girl I haven’t spend any time with in the last months and I really really miss her and her little pussy,“ he had leaned in, whispering the last words against your ear and you shivered.

„Just her pussy?“ You mumbled back as you looked up at him and he smirked.

„Nah, she’s the whole fucking deal. Should probably get off my own ass and finally as her out on a date instead of just fucking he brains out whenever she lets me,“ he said and you sucked your bottom lip in as you tried to hide your smile.

You looked away from him for a moment, gathering your thoughts, making up your mind.

You needed him, and you needed him now.

„Think you can show me where the bathroom is? I think I need a little refresh,“ you asked, hoping he would get the hint. And by the shit eating grin that came to his face, he did.

„Of course. Follow me.“

„This… This is not the bathroom,“ you mumbled against his lips, his body pressing you against the door of what looked like a laundry room.

„Less interruptions here,“ he hummed, hand slipping under your dress, finger hooking into your panties, pulling them down. You smiled, hands in his hair as you helped him get your panties off.

„Been too damn long,“ he ran his hand up your leg, wrapping it behind his back, his other hand on your back puling you closer before he kissed you again, his tongue playing with yours as you reached down, unzipping his pants.

„Missed me so much you gonna fuck me in some people’s laundry room? Want us to get caught?“ You grinned, hand pulling out his cock, surprised to find out he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Wrapping your palm around his cock you loved the deep groan he released against your lips.

„Not gonna get caught if you keep quiet baby,“ he hooked your leg over his arm, hand on the door behind you as he stepped closer, opening you up for him.

„Oh yeah, because I am the one who can’t keep quiet,“ you teased and he huffed a laugh, replacing your hand around his cock with his as he pumped himself and lined himself up.

You wrapped one arm around his shoulders, standing only one one leg, trusting him to keep you there.

Slowly he finally sank into you, his thick cock stretching you perfectly.

„Fuckin’ perfect,“ he grunted, lips pressing against yours in a deep kiss when his cock filled you completely, both of you moaning quietly.

„This ain’t gonna take long, sweetheart. Been to fuckin’ long,“ he grunted and you gasped when he moved, bottoming out completely before thrusting back inside.

„Don’t care, just fuck me,“ you whimpered and he nodded against your lips, fucking up into you, skin slapping against skin every time he filled you.

You sucked your bottom lip in, trying to keep quiet as he hammered into you, his lips now attached to your shoulder as he groaned into your skin.

„Shit,“ he grunted just a couple of thrusts later and you felt him twitch as he came, spilling inside of you. Letting your head fall against the door you gasped for ear, having not cum but fuck it still felt good to just have him inside of you.

You were about to say something when he got on his knees, cock pulling out of you, your leg now hooked over his shoulders as his tongue replaced his cock, Joel moaning as he tasted you.

„Oh fuck,“ you whimpered, hands now in his hair as he looked up at you. He grinned wickedly as he licked into you, licked his cum out of you.

„We taste good together,“ he mumbled against your cunt, and you pulled at his hair with a quiet whine.

„Shhh Baby. Don’t want anyone to hear what a little slut your are for me huh?“ He teased and you pulled his hair harder, making him moan as he continued to lick you.

He sucked on your clit, tongue playing with it all while pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

„Joel,“ you moaned softly, your head falling back against the door as you finally came, gasping for air as your body shook in Joel’s hold. You melted against the door once you rode it out, limbs feeling like jello. He kissed your pussy one last time, before he set your leg down, keeping his arms around you as he got off of his knees. You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him hard once he stood upright.

„We do taste good together,“ you whispered and he chuckled.

It was two hours later, nobody at the party had noticed the very explicit things you did in that laundry room, that Joel carried a very tired Charlotte towards your car, Sarah already sleeping in the backseat of his car.

You opened the backseat door of your car for him and he carefully sat Charlotte down, putting the belt on for her.

You were leaning against the back of your car as he closed the door and he walked towards you.

„What are you doing next Friday?“ He asked, fingers tilting your chin up.

„Nothing. Charlotte is with her Dad,“ you said with a small smile.

„And Sarah is at her Grandma’s for a sleepover,“ he hummed with a smirk.

„Wanna go on a date with me?“ He asked and you grinned, getting on your tiptoes to kiss him softly.

„I thought you’d never ask.“

#my fic #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #Joel Miller fanfiction #tlou #tlou fanfiction

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thoughtfulfiction · 3 days ago

Text

Full of Surprises

Author’s note: My first Joe request from a gorgeous anon! Hope you, my angel @emmyblues and all the other New Years babies had an amazing birthday!!!

Pancakes. Waffles. Is both too much? A little fruit on the side? Should he have bacon on the plate? What about eggs?

“Joe,” he snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of a perturbed voice. “What should I make? I’d like to know today, please.”

The man continues walking around the kitchen, running through the plan in his head. It’s honestly causing him more effort than most of his pregame prep. Football was easy, it was x’s and o’s, utilizing his cadence and dissecting some of the best defenses the league has ever seen. Simple things. Planning the perfect birthday wasn’t exactly something he’d practiced his entire life but it was the first one he’d be spending with you living together so he was willing to try his best to make it unforgettable.

“Okay,” he places his hands on the counter, facing his chef. The first order of business for the day was to deliver you breakfast in bed but he loved you too much to make you sit through a meal he cooked. So he called in a professional to start the day off on the right foot. “Chocolate chip pancakes. Final answer.”

“Thank you,” his chef Morgan cracks a tiny smile, patting Joe on the back. “Relax man, she’s gonna love it. If anything, today might be a little over the top but hey—I’d go all out for my girl too.”

That did nothing to ease his worries. He made his way to the living room to touch up some of the decorations and make sure that the layout is how he pictured it in his mind. He thinks for a second, laughing to himself about how you’re still peacefully sleeping upstairs and he’s running around like a headless chicken. By the time he’s putting on the finishing touches, the food is ready and he needs to wake you up so you have time to eat and spend a little time together before he has to leave for practice.

You wake up to the most delicate kisses peppering your face, your neck, your collarbone. Trying to ignore it, you pull the covers over your face but your morning energy, or lack thereof, is no match for him. He easily takes the comforter away, pulling you in close enough to have his mouth back on your skin, kissing your shoulder. Each gentle touch enhances the beautiful wake-up call.

“Good morning sunshine,” he states calmly, “happy birthday.”

You hum tiredly, opening your eyes to ogle at him in all of his glory. His icy blue eyes peering into your soul, the way his arm muscles clench while holding onto the tray full of food that he sets in your lap. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of this view, of being in his orbit…as long as you live. And he’s completely dedicated to making this entire day all about you. “Thank you baby,” you cover your mouth and back away when he leans in, “morning breath?”

Joe scoffs, “come here woman,” he grabs you by your legs, wrapping them around his waist and reaching over to present the most perfect platter of pancakes you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Thank you! You didn’t have to wake up extra early and do all this,” you give him a very quick peck, immediately digging in.

He takes a piece of fruit off of your plate and pops it into his mouth, “thank Morgan actually. I didn’t make any of it. But…I do have big plans for you today.”

“Oh you do?”

Joe nods, grabbing your fork so he can feed you. He sat there and helped you finish the plate, giving you a kiss after each bite. Once you were finished, he let you brush your teeth before pulling out a blindfold.

“This is a bit kinky…” you trail off as the light is replaced with complete and utter darkness. Joe gently ties the blindfold after wrapping it around your head and waving his hand in front of your face to make sure you can’t see.

“Maybe I’ll save it for later,” Joe growls into your ear, playfully smacking your butt before grabbing your hand slowly walking the two of you out of the room.

The gentle padding of his feet on the ground, leading you down the stairs is the one thing you can focus on. You knew he was only leading you to the living room but you really don’t mind trusting blindly to hold your hand through life and wherever it may take you.

Light comes back to your world when your boyfriend takes off the blindfold, his mischievous smile making an appearance.

“Joseph…what did you do?”

He puts his hands up, looking at you like he has no clue what you’re talking about. The entire living room is covered in balloons, two giant gold numbers depicting your age sit on the couch, surrounded by a array of lavish gift bags. “Oh, I almost forgot,” Joe rushes out, taking long strides toward the doorway and coming back with his hands behind his back. The birthday hat you made him wear a few weeks ago is suddenly now on your head and he takes a picture of you in the middle of the room and you feel like you’ve just won a spelling bee. “You can take it off now if you want, I promised my mom I’d get you back for making me wear the stupid hat. But you look good in the stupid hat so it’s not as funny.”

“Aw you’re so sweet,” you tell him with a laugh, kissing him on the cheek as he hands you the first gift.

The first three bags are Bvlgari. A complete matching set containing a ring, necklace and a bracelet. All gold. The next bag is Gucci, an ivory bucket hat.

“I have the same one in black. Figured we could match,” Joe shrugs, handing you the next one.

Calf length leather boots, with red bottoms. Then another pair of boots, which could be considered more casual since they’re Chelsea boots…except they’re Prada. And of course, he got you the Prada travel bag you mentioned in passing nearly a month ago. “Thank you. You really did not have to get me all this stuff. All of this is beautiful and so thoughtful.”

You wrap your arms around him, hugging him tight and giving him a tender kiss on the lips. “What did I do in my past life to deserve you?”

Most of your early relationship you tried to be firm in letting him know you weren’t with him for the stuff he can buy you. Over time as the trust and love continued to build between you two, you realized that it wasn’t the end of the world to be pampered and showered with gifts every now and then, internal cringing less at the thought of the prices at the end of his gift receipts. The man seemed satisfied with how his first two surprises had gone, letting you know that your friend Ryan was on her way to pick you up as soon as he was gone for practice. Every detail had been carefully planned out so you wouldn’t be alone and bored while he was gone.

As soon as he was out the door you took your time getting ready, putting your new items away in their respective places. Ryan texted you that she was on her way after you got out of the shower, not telling you where you were headed so you opted for minimal makeup and a casual but cute outfit and some sneakers in case there was walking involved.

The surprise ended up being an extensive spa treatment. A 75 minute deep tissue massage and a Vitamin C facial. Then there was the mani-pedi, hydrotherapy soak and exfoliating scrub included. You felt the most relaxed you’ve felt in years, all the tension was released literally from the top of your head and neck area to your feet.

Your home was eerily quiet when you and Ryan came back. The lights were off and Joe was nowhere to be found, even though the car he took when he left that morning was back in its usual spot in the garage.

“Babe? Are you home?” You called out, starting to search for him.

Ryan turned on the kitchen lights and suddenly the room was filled with people yelling “surprise!” Your mom and Joe’s mom were there, along with several of your friends, a few Bengals players and their significant others were also in attendance.

On the side table was a massive spread of food, mostly comprised of your favorites and you bravely held back the wave of emotion to greet everyone and thank them for coming. Having a birthday on a holiday has never been easy. Growing up it was a time where people were either out of town to celebrate with their families or it was just simply too much work to even want to plan anything concrete in case plans had to be moved around or cancelled. You sometimes felt like the day was completely overshadowed. Now that you were an adult it wasn’t the biggest deal in the world as long as you had a relaxing and relatively fun day but for Joe to gather some of your favorite people in the world all in one place to be with you on your birthday meant more than you could explain. Speaking of Joe, you hadn’t seen him yet.

You are in the middle of asking Chase Brown’s girlfriend Jazmyn if she has everything she needs from her baby registry when you spot him. In his hands is the most beautiful heart shaped gold birthday cake and he’s beaming as he starts the “happy birthday” song and everyone in the room joins in. Your eyes are closed when he sets the cake in front of you, telling you to make a wish. The first reaction is to ask him what more could you wish for when you have everything you could possibly want right in front of you, yet you indulge him and stand still to think for a little while before blowing out your candles and letting people try the cake.

Between the conversations about playoff scenarios and resolutions for the new year, the room is bustling with activity. Even Joe seems relaxed, a water bottle in hand and never really taking interest in being more than five feet away from you at all times. You catch his eyes a few times throughout the afternoon, a comforting smile here and there going a long way while the people in your home happily mingle and make significant dents in the amount of food available. Nobody really seems to notice that the two of you have snuck off other than your moms, who exchange knowing smiles.

“Alright, you have to stop.” You tell him once you’re finally alone.

“Stop what? What am I doing?”

“Stop looking at me with that face. That I’ve seen you naked several times face, don’t give me that face. Not with my mom in the room. Because when you make that face and you’re staring at me with that—freaking stare I want to do something about it. And I can’t. Cause my mom is in the room. And so is yours. So stop it. That should’ve been my birthday wish.”

Joe rolls his eyes, closing the already short distance between you. “Well, when you say a wish out loud, it doesn’t come true.”

He’s looking at you again, less intense this time, more…soft. You’re the only person in the world that gets to see him like this, completely undone and void of his impenetrable exterior. This is the man you’ve continued to fall in love with the more you’ve gotten to know him. And when your lips meet his you can’t help but grin, brushing your finger along the side of his jaw with your thumb. The kiss is as soft as a feather, almost painfully slow as Joe teases you, letting you trace his top lip with your tongue until he opens his mouth and takes charge. Before the kiss goes any further he pulls away, sitting down in one of the oversized swivel chairs in the corner of the room and letting you settle on his thigh.

“When did you have time to do all this?” You ask him earnestly, “I mean with your schedule and the end of the season. How did you—”

He leans into your touch, kissing the tiny space behind your ear that he knows makes your skin feel like it’s on fire. “No matter what’s going on in my life, I will always find time to celebrate my favorite person in the entire world. I really wanted you to feel special today.”

“You make me feel special everyday. But for what it’s worth, you’re my favorite person in the world too.”

Joe kissed you on the head, patting your leg so you can stand up first. He tells you to wait here, signaling there’s one more surprise in store. In his hand is a card for you to read…alone. “I’ll be out there making sure Sam hasn’t eaten all of your cake,” he jokes, giving your hand a squeeze on his way out.

Running your fingers across the front of the letter, you admire Joe’s handwriting, trying to think of what could possibly be inside the envelope. Your curiosity gets the best of you rather quickly and you’re tearing it open, holding a small piece of paper in your hand.

Happy birthday baby,

I’ve been thinking about the perfect way to close out the day. Then I thought about birthday sex and doing unspeakable things to each other and got a little distracted. So I took a break to regroup and come up with an actual plan. Today is about you and how amazing you are. How you’ve changed my life for the better. How you’ve been my rock every step of the way during this up and down season. One that I wouldn’t trade for the world because at the end of the day, I get to play football, which love and then I get to come home to you, which I’m starting to love more and more every day. You’re my dream come true and I’m so lucky to get to do life with you.

And if you ever tell anyone I wrote you a love letter on your birthday I’ll deny it. We are taking this to the grave.

I love you,

Joe

You were already in tears halfway through the letter, the waterworks in full effect when two tickets to Disneyland in Tokyo were taped to the bottom of the letter.

How was he ever going to outdo this birthday?

The Bengals should seriously consider signing you for a short term contract the way you wrap Joe up in your arms as soon as you spot him. If he hadn’t seen you coming and knew your reaction, you probably could’ve taken him to the ground. “I take it you liked the present?”

You shrug, “not a bad first offseason trip,” the facade quickly fades and you hug him again, “thank you Joey, for everything today…and everyday. I love you.”

“I love you too.” He leans into you, resting his head on yours for a few seconds.

Tilting you head up, you look at him. “Wait…is this why you got us the bucket hats?”

“That’s exactly why I got us the bucket hats. We gotta fit the vibe babe. Blend in.”

You huff out a laugh. “Right. Of course.”

You once scoffed at an 8:30pm bedtime and now it was hard to keep your eyes open at 9:16pm, laying in bed next to Joe. And you swear you just heard him giggle, leaving you wide awake.

“Did you party too hard birthday girl?”

“It’s not funny! I’m getting too old for this,” you mumble into his side.

Sometimes you don’t even remember what life was like before him. And you definitely don’t want to know a life without him. Here he was Mr. Football fiend, in the middle of the season, going above and beyond to make you feel celebrated, special and loved beyond measure. And he’s always so warm, being in his arms is grounding you, slowly lulling you back to sleep.

The two of took a power nap so you could make it to the ball drop. At 11:59, he wished you happy birthday again and you kissed him at midnight wishing him a happy new year.

“Thank you for escaping the womb. I’m really glad you did that.” He pulls on your—well his—hoodie strings so you can’t see, kissing your nose.

“You’re a freaking idiot.”

#Joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fic

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rubiehart · 2 days ago

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LOOK AFTER YOU…

pairing: jj maybank x bsf!reader

summary: an alternative universe to my own bsf!reader, where her parents aren’t supportive of her and jj’s relationship and the consequences of that.

warnings: graphic description of injuries, mentions of physical, mental and verbal abuse, underage use of tobacco, hurt/comfort.

a/n: literally came up with this in ten minutes and binge wrote it in an hour, wasn’t even initially gonna be based on any song but this one just fit so well so why no lol. i guess this is kinda the start of my comeback for the new year, hope you all love ♡︎

♪ Look After You - The Fray ♪

Honestly, JJ didn’t know how he ended up dating the girl who’d been his best friend since elementary school, how sharing beds after a long day of surfing in middle school turned into them smushed up against each other only three years later, limbs tangled and breath mingling, completely drunk off of each other, completely enamoured by the other like it was the first glimpse.

He knew she was a bitch sometimes, he knew she was sweet sometimes, but only ever around him and when they’d completely stripped each other of every wall they’d put up, emotions raw and throat’s even more so from whatever had gone on with their own parents in the place they were supposed to call home. Neither of them knew the meaning until that night.

That one night that changed the entire rest of their lives, for better or worse? Neither of them knew. The night when they both separately hit rock bottom. Absolutely nothing to lose, now. The lowest of the low. Hell.

She’d just been kicked out by her parents for good, and it really was official this time. Something stupid she’d done with JJ that really wasn’t as serious as they were making it seem, but it seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back, the final push that made them force all their walls up against JJ, but they were a team, two halves of a whole, so in her eyes, if they were denying JJ they were also denying her, and she didn’t have time or the energy to deal with people like that, so she up and left that night. Sending JJ a quick text before shoving her dying phone in the pocket of her battered shorts and setting off to where she knew he’d go to first.

Unbeknownst to her, JJ’s situation was similar, something simmering on a low heat in Luke’s body for a few days previous, a few too many pills popped and he was ready to burst, and who better to take it out on that his sixteen year old son? No one, supposedly. This is how JJ ends up shoving open the door to the wooden lodge he’s supposed to call home, body aching as he forces himself down the steps, stumbling on an already bruised leg, until he reaches the edge of the lawn of the Maybank residence. The last thing he hears is the raw, blood curdling yell of his father, ‘Run and pray I don’t find ya, boy!’, the blood rushing in his ears and the soft beating of his combat boots against the dead grass, a baffling contrast to the absolute war in his mind.

His bruised legs carry him all the way across the island, the only thing in his mind is her, and it’s the only thing keeping him on his feet, head spinning, as he continually tells himself, ‘Just a little longer, J’, ‘A little longer than you can take a break.’ He doesn’t let himself stop until he gets there, lungs gasping for a breath of fresh air as the wind rushes past his ears, legs aching and stinging but he fights it until the image he’d been imagining comes into view through the weeds of the marsh. The lighthouse.

He’d found her on the rocky island, as expected slumped against the rocky wall of the structure, red and white painted chipped to hell. She was wearing an oversized black tank top, assumably his, the usual pair of denim shorts, and some beat up sneakers, hair falling in front of her eyes, cigarette already burning between her lips.

It’s late, the moonlight bathes her body, forearms resting on her knees, friendship bracelets dangling from her wrists and brushing against the grazed skin of her legs. He wordlessly slumps down next to her, groaning softly as his beaten body hits the rocky floor, a streak of white hot pain passing through his chest.

She obviously senses his presence, it’s completely un-ignorable. She makes brief eye contact with him in the pale light, a warm glow casted over her face from the flame at the end of the cigarette, highlighting the tear marks down her freckled cheeks, now dried and assumably sticky in the soft wind of the late night.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to, and neither does he.

That’s one thing that was so special about them, even before they’d gotten together and were just best friends with insane sexual tension, they could always read the other’s mind without sharing any words, could read each other fluently with just looks and body language.

The toe of her beat up sneaker digs into the rocks scattering the floor, and he watches her from the corner of him eye, chest still heaving, her head falls back against the concrete wall of the lighthouse, exhaling into the cold night as she passes off the burning stick to him. He notices how her fingernails are painted shimmery purple, or were, now they’re all chipped and her fingernails are bitten.

He accepts the cigarette, the familiar bitter tobacco and smoke slip past his chapped lips, gash on the lower corner re opening as he inhales. He couldn’t care less in this moment as they both sit wordlessly in the moonlight. She could practically feel the tension in his shoulders and the inevitable tightness in his chest, maybe this cigarette wasn’t the best thing for him right now, but everyone’s got their way of dealing, so she keeps her mouth shut for once.

He glances at her through his peripheral, pulling his legs up into a similar position to her, arms aching as he rests his forearms against his bloody knees. His hooded eyes frail over her tear stained cheeks. She’s tough. Tougher than anybody he’d ever met. He knew not to push her to talk. She’d talk when she was ready, and he wasn’t exactly eager to tell her about what went on tonight, either.

Her softer fingers brush his calloused ones when he passes it back, taking a drag and holding it in her lungs, letting it burn, because in this moment she wants to hurt, the pain is almost a comfort.

She exhales, smoke clouding his image of her for a second as she passes it back off to him, the orange glow lighting him up for once as her lips part to speak.

It’s raspy, like she’d been screaming, or crying, or both. He assumes both because he knows how it is in her house, much like she knows how it is in his. The precise reason why she doesn’t question the cuts on his cheekbones, or the grazes on his knees and elbows, and knows that there’s bound to be a ton more all over his body, concealed by his threadbare shirt and cargo shorts, curtesy of his deadbeat father.

“Got thrown out.”

Her voice pierces the bitterly cold wind that blows, blowing his sweaty, blonde tresses every which way, he lifts a hand to cover the end of the cigarette, blocking it from the strong gusts, the silver of his rings glinting in the orange glow.

He nods once, taking a hit as he takes in the information, he’s not all that suprised though, it was only a matter of time, he knows they’d been waiting for anything to happen to get rid of her for good.

“Same here.”

He says with a soft chuckle, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes and she doesn’t wonder why. He doesn’t want her to know the extent of it though, he doesn’t want her to know how bad it gets. Doesn’t want her to worry.

A small smile graces her lips, the skin stretching tight from the cold, licking over her lips once as she glances at him. She doesn’t even know why, she’s got absolutely nothing to smile about, sixteen, homeless, not even a dollar to her name, but just a glance at him smiling lifts a weight off of her, like maybe things weren’t going to be so bad.

She takes the cigarette back from him, mock forcefully, a ghost of a smirk still lingering as she takes another drag, shorter this time, sucking and blowing before speaking again, forearms adjusting on her grazed knees with a silent hiss, teeth gritted.

“What for?”

He lets out a bitter scoff, staring at his shoes so he doesn’t have to meet her eyes. The moonlight is making her look a fallen angel, all soft and pretty but still a little rough around the edges, just like him. He shrugs like he doesn’t know, pretending like he doesn’t know she can read him like a book.

“Same old bullshit.” He mumbles around the cig, taking a second drag since she’d passed it back, like he was trying to drown out the memory. She scoffs, mirroring his own reaction. Two halves of a whole. She can’t stop her eyes from wandering to his side profile, illuminated by the soft amber glow of the flame, highlighting the slope of his angular nose, the chisel of his cheekbones, already blooming with black and purple splotches, but he’s beautiful to her nonetheless.

She forces her eyes away and nods. “Same.” Picking at the chipped polish along her nails as she glares out at the horizon, the waves lapping ever so quietly at the rocky shore, the light from the lookout flickering dully above their heads.

He huffs softly, shaking his head, passing back the cigarette with trembling fingers.

Of course that was the reason, on her end anyway, and without her explicitly stating it he knows what her ‘same old bullshit’ is. He had pretty much known from the start that her parents wouldn’t be supportive of their relationship. He was a troublemaker, a bad kid, the kind of boy parents warned their daughters about.

He looks up at her, fiddling with his fingers between the gap in his bent knees, blonde hair flopping over his sweat slicked forehead, tickling at the gash above his eyebrow. He studies her profile as the glow of the cigarette lights her up. Even with her hair messy and her eyes red rimmed and her eyeliner smeared down her cheeks, she’s still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of them, the gravity of the situation hitting them both at different speeds. Two homeless, empty pocketed sixteen year olds, only their love for each other keeping them above water. Dodging whirlpools and massive swells with just each other to stay afloat. She digs the toe of her sneaker into scatter of rocks again, the soft clink of them the only thing heard other than the soft lapping of waves and their breathing, which had now synced.

He keeps his eyes on her, studying her and taking in every single detail in the moonlight. He can see every single freckle on her skin, every single eyelash. She’s perfect. Gorgeous. An angel amongst a sea of demons. He leans in closer, gently knocking his knee against hers.

“We’re gonna be okay, yeah?”

He mutters under his breath, so close she can feel the warmth radiating off of him.

She turns her head, hair falling infront of her black rimmed eyes, framing her blood rushed cheeks in the moonlight, nursing the fading cigarette between her fingers. She nods once, it’s small but it’s there, and it’s all the reassurance that he needs that they’re gonna be okay.

She leans a little more into his touch so they stay close, shoulders occasionally brushing and knees pressed together.

“Yeah.” She breathes out, a small smile making its way onto her lips.

He’s tempted to reach for her hand, to tangle his fingers in hers, to hold her as tight as possible for as long as possible, because she’s all he has left, and he’s afraid if he doesn’t hold her close, she’ll disappear like every other ounce of hope in his life.

But he doesn’t know if she’s okay with being touched right now. He knows she can be sensitive sometimes when she’s like this, closed off and thinking. So he keeps his hands to himself, not wanting to overstep. Instead, he just lets himself lean into her a little more, head tilted a little to the side to give her more than enough space if she wants to lean her head against his shoulder like she does sometimes. He’s making it clear that if she needs him, he’s here. Always.

Then, almost as if reading his mind, her hands finds his, soft skin brushing callouses along his pinkie finger, it’s hesitant but it’s not accidental as their fingers intertwine. She doesn’t look at him but he doesn’t need her to to know what she’s thinking. She stubs out the cigarette with her other hand, the ash hissing softly against the concrete wall behind her head before she flicks the butt into the rocks. Waves lap against the shore, sea foam clotting and sticking and forming pretty consolations, her thumb brushes over his bruised knuckles thoughtfully, but it’s natural and unpracticed.

He lets out a shaky exhale as her delicate fingers wrap around his. They’re smaller than his, more nimble, and yet they’re strong. Stronger than normal, like she’s solidifying every word she’s conveying through his simple touch. That this is real. Once that contact is made he feels like he can breathe again. Her skin feels electric against, sending sparks up his arm and signals to his brain that stop him feeling the dull, everlasting ache all over his body, that thrums low but never truly leaves for good. But this feels right. It feels good.

The winds starting to pick up a little now, she has no idea what time it is and neither does he, but it’s a distant worry. She’s got a little niggling at the back of her brain that there’s a storm incoming, but she’s not sure when or where’d she’d heard it, every memory from the past few days blending into one, where she can’t pinpoint any individual words or emotions.

She lets her eyelids flutter closed, head laying down softly onto JJ’s shoulder, incase there was a nasty bruise underneath the worn cotton, he wouldn’t have told her even if there was. She breathes steadily, breathing in the lingering scent of him on the warm skin of his neck: sea water, sweat and a hint of the old spice cologne he’d stolen from his dad in ninth grade, and then kept stealing bottles whenever it’d run out.

She squeezed his hand in hers: once, twice, three times. A silent ‘I love you’. Neither of them had ever been any good with words, but they didn’t need to be.

She doesn’t know whats going to happen and she doesn’t know what they’re going to do after tonight, when they wake up tomorrow morning in the abandoned lighthouse with less than a dollar to their shared name. But she doesn’t let the thought cloud her memory too long, because with JJ by her side it’s hard to worry about things that aren’t facing you yet, it’s easy to just live in the moment with him.

With her head leaning against his shoulder, breath from her nose tickling his skin, he takes the time to study her for the billionth time that night. Taking in the slope of her nose, her jawline, her eyelashes. His heart does all sorts of crazy things in his chest, things he’d never felt before her. But it’s not from fear, or uncertainty, or anything of the sort. Instead, it’s from love. From adoration. From everything he feels for her.

“I love you.”

He whispers, just loud enough for her to hear him over the wind.

Her eyelashes flutter open, kissing at her eyebrows, fingers still interlocked with his as she zones in on him, he notices the way her eyes are glazed over with tears.

It had always been harder for her to say those three words, even though she’d come from a more conventional family than JJ, his full of physical abuse, hers was full of mental and verbal abuse, the pushing down of her feelings to avoid manipulation is second nature to her. Usually.

But now with JJ, she lets out a soft exhale through her nose, pressing it against the side of his neck, breathing him in as she whispers, hot breath ticking the sensitive skin.

“I love you too.”

He can feel his cheeks heat up when her hot breath brushes against his skin. He doesn’t know why it makes him so flustered, because by this point he should be used to her touch, her quiet little declarations of love. He’s spent countless nights wrapped around her, his arms holding her to his chest like she’s his lifeline.

And yet, when she whispers that she loves him, his heart races in his chest. His fingers squeeze around hers so tight it’s bound to bruise. He doesn’t need to say anything back and she doesn’t expect it, he conveys everything he wants to say through the way his breath hitches and his heartbeat quickens under her ear.

Her eyes flick up to his profile after a minute or so, eyes roaming all over his features from this new angle, pressing her cheek against his shoulder, watching him fiddle with his rings on his fingers, twisting at them, pulling them off and putting them on again. She breaks through his quiet thoughts with a soft question, that he misses because it’s caught in the whisper of the wind.

“Hm?” He mumbles, hand reaching down to find hers again, squeezing it reassuringly as he looks down, hooded eyes completely captivated by her.

“Does it hurt?” She repeats softly, no irritation in her tone like normal when she has to repeat herself to him. He’s confused for a second, eyebrows furrowing until he realises she’s talking about the series of bruises across his cheekbone, her wide eyes lingering on the skin. It’s only then he remembers he was even hurt in the first place, and the low thrum of pain comes back all over his body, wound above his eyebrow stinging when a gust of wind blows.

She squeezes his hand again softly, not forcing him to speak if he doesn’t want to, being patient with him. His gaze stays on her, and he’s coming up with a lie, telling her he’s fine and not to worry about him. But the words get caught in his throat at the worry in her soft gaze. He doesn’t want to lie, not to her.

“Like hell.”

He mutters, bringing his free hand up to his eyeline, the one that’s not gripping hers. He stares down at his bruised knuckles, some starting to scab, others not, starting to turn an ugly shade or reddish purple.

“Yeah?” She replies softly, she seems to have thawed off a little, anger not so red hot, scalding in her fingertips. Not so angry at the world. Her free hand comes up to softly brush against the blossom of purple along his cheekbone, and his jaw ticks under her touch, refraining from flinching away from her. She notices, though, and tears spring to the corners of her eyes, tear ducts working overtime tonight, it seemed.

He lets out a shaky exhale, it’s covered by the wind but she doesn’t miss the quiver of his lips. Her gentle touch feels electric against his skin. He doesn’t want to flinch, but it hurts. It hurts.

Her touch is soft and delicate, tracing over the bruise with a feather light touch. His skin is heated and tender, and any contact makes the thrumming under his skin stronger. But at the same time, it feels good, because she’s touching him. Loving him.

His eyes dart up to meet hers, searching them for any sign of fear. Or disgust.

There’s nothing even close reflected in her eyes. They’re soft, softer than he’s ever seen them. That hard exterior she puts up is broken through as she looks at him, beaten and bruised. It makes her heart physically ache in her chest.

“You wanna talk about it?”

She whispers softly, he hears her through the soft gust that comes in, blowing his hair out of his face a little, exposing the gash across his temple. He’s so tuned into her right now, overanalysing every movement she makes, every word, every breath.

He lets out a soft scoff, shaking his head. The last thing he wants to talk about is his piece-of-shit dad. Talking about the events of tonight wouldn’t change a single thing, and it’s just gonna make her worry.

“There’s nothin’ to talk about.”

He mutters under his breath, avoiding her gaze. He knows she’s trying to be sweet, and care for him but he doesn’t want her to pity him. He doesn’t want her to think he’s weak.

She notices his walls coming back up, him pulling away from her a little, if not physically definitely internally. She doesn’t force anything, just nods softly, blinking back the tears in her eyes and slips her hand from his cheek, slumping back against the concrete wall with a soft sigh, knees and shoulders brushing.

The last thing she wants to do it push, make him cramp up and close himself off like he did sometimes.

The part of him that wants to lean back into her touch, to be held and loved and cared for after being beat to a pulp wars with the part of him that doesn’t want her pity.

He settles for somewhere in the middle, their thighs pressing together and shoulders brushing. He’s still avoiding her eyes, staring down at his bruised knuckles, biting back the tears that lodge his throat.

Her gaze stays on him for a long time, even if he’s refusing to reciprocate her longing gaze. She doesn’t mind, she just quietly watches, admires.

He feels her gaze on him and he can’t fight it anymore, he never could. His eyes flick to hers, fiddling with the rings on his thick fingers, forearms rested on his knees.

She’s giving him this look that makes him want to melt, like she sees right through him, for everything he is and everything he will be and the only emotion in her moonlit eyes is love.

“Do you..” She trails off, the wind picking up a little around them, the waves splatter against the rocks, sea foam clinging to the pebbles only a few meters away and JJ’s eyes flick from the shore, and then to her. He knows what she’s trying to ask, or along the lines of her question.

His heart’s doing that fluttering thing again, like a caged bird. He doesn’t need to be told what she’s asking, because he can read it in her eyes. He knows she’s not asking out of pity, or even out of lust. Just a pure, unconditional adoration. A need to hold the boy she loves. A need to be as close to him as possible. He knows there’s no point in denying her, and he doesn’t want to, anyway.

He nods shakily, letting his eyes flutter shut, pleading with him himself internally to not break, not yet.

“What do you need?”

She whispers softly, fingers itching to touch him, to comfort him, but she wants to touch him however he wants to be, and she don’t want to push anything.

He wants her. Needs her. He wants to run his fingers through her hair, feel her heart beating against his, breathe in the scent of her skin. And it’s not out of lustful desire, it’s out of a deep-down desperate need to feel safe. To feel wanted. He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he lets out a shaky breath. His eyes flick open, the saddest look she’d ever seen gracing his features, and she can tell he’s about to break.

“C’mere.”

He mutters under his breath, voice scratchy and quiet as he reaches his arms out for her, wincing softly at the stretch of the skin of his chest, littered with purple and blues.

She doesn’t wait to crawl into his lap, slowly, listening intently to every little gasp he makes to make sure she’s not putting any pressure on his major bruises, if they weren’t outside on a rocky beach, slumped against a wall, she’d be the one holding him, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made, and right now JJ needs her, no matter how.

Her chest is pressed against his, strong arms wrapped around her back and keeping her as close as possible to him. He’s holding her tighter than he should, afraid she might slip away if he loosens his grip.

His hands find her hips, snaking under the loose material of the tank top and digging affectionally into the warm skin there. The feeling of her finally being against him is driving him crazy, but in a good way, caged between the wall and her.

He lets out a shuddering breath, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his nose nuzzling at her soft skin.

“You’re okay.” She whispers, resting one hand at the back of his head, fingers carding through the hair at the nape of his neck gently, pressing her lips to his crown. She feels his shoulders begin to shake and the meltdown that he’d been holding back from all night crashing down and overtaking him now.

You know all you can do is be present, and reassure him. “Everything’s gonna be okay..”

He feels the dam inside of him break, like the floodgates had finally opened, and before he knows what he’s doing, hot tears are springing to his eyes.

She’s saying all the right things. She’s touching him like no one’s touched him. And it’s too much. Too much to handle. He buries himself against her chest, his arms wrapping around her torso to hold her close. He lets out another shuddering breath, a soft crying shortly following, and it’s guttural and soul shattering as he shakes against her.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.” She mumbles into his sweaty hair, blonde tresses tickling at her chin, leaving kisses anywhere she can reach, hands carding through his hair, offering the maximum amount of comfort she can in his arms.

“You’re okay, baby.”

Her calling him ‘baby’ isn’t something he realised has such an effect on him until now, and the way her voice is so soft, so sweet and caring, has him melting against her.

Her touch and her words are like a balm on his frayed nerves, extinguishing the fire burning under his skin.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He chokes out, like a mantra, into the warm crook of her neck, over and over again, soaking the skin with his tears.

“I love you more.”

She whispers against his head, leaning sitting up a little straighter against him for a sec, but he’s pulling her down just as quick, pressing a soft kiss to her collarbone as he cries.

“Hey, listen for a sec.” She mumbles, and waits for him to nod against her before continuing, fingernails scraping deliciously against his scalp as she speaks, her words attempting to calm him down from his spiral.

“‘Member what we said? After we figure all this shit out.. gonna get a house t’gether and get married, yeah? You listenin’?”

He nods shakily as she holds him, her hands brushing his sweaty hair at his temples, her kisses along his forehead keeping him grounded to reality. He swallows hard at her words about the future, his heart seizing up in his chest. But he nods again, desperately needing to hear more. He needs to hear about their future together, because it’s the only thing keeping him together right now, when he feels like nothing’s going right, his only way out is her.

“Yeah-yeah, ‘m listenin’.” He murmurs against her hot skin, his hands gripping her hips a little tighter, making sure she was really still there, and this wasn’t some hallucination.

“Good, keep breathin’. And y’know what else? Gonna have so many babies together, yeah? All of our little mini us’s runnin’ ‘round. We’re gonna be so happy, J. Soon as we get outta this mess.”

The very thought of having kids with her has him choking up again.

He can picture it all so clearly, the cozy fish shack by the marsh, a whole football team of kiddos, the little girls beautiful like their mama, getting dressed up all pretty, the rowdy boys the spitting image of JJ, with unruly blonde hair as big blue eyes, tackling and wrestling with each other on the grass outside whilst he tries to teach them to fish.

He can’t help but grip her tighter at the imagery flashing through his clouded mind, ringed fingers digging into her hips.

“Lotsa babies. Lotsa babies. Our babies. Promise?”

She nods with a soft smile, eyes reflecting the same expression as his when his eyes meet hers, glazed over and filled with an emotion unlabelled. Her thumbs swipe at his under eyes, wiping away the hot tears, careful to avoid any gashes or bruises.

“Promise. But none o’ that’s gonna happen if you don’t make it through tonight, baby. You gotta breathe for me.”

Of course she’s exaggerating, and it’s in a hope to bring a little light to the emotional rollercoaster he’s going through right now, and she’s on the same ride internally, but she needs to be strong, for him.

He lets out a shaky exhale, his chest heaving against hers as he forces his body to breathe.

In, and out, In, and out, In, and out-

He wants that life. With her. A life with her in a homey beach shack, a physical place he can call home, instead of the girl he’s holding in his arms.

In, and out, In, and out, In, and out.

But the only way he’s going to get that life is by surviving, together and by getting through tonight, together.

He slowly nods, squeezing her hips again.

“M breathin’.. ‘M breathin’..”

She nods tearfully, sniffling and swiping at her own eyes before he can see them. “Good.. that’s good..” She mumbles in praise, hands still holding his face and stroking at his cheeks with her thumbs gently. “Can you look at me a sec?” She’s careful to keep her touch featherlight over any bruises.

He nods shakily, slowly lifting his tired eyes to look at her, the day weighing heavy on his shoulders and now he’d really let everything out, he was exhausted. His cheeks are still tear stained and his chest heaving. He slowly brings a hand up, cupping the side of her face so he can run his thumb along her tear stained jaw.

“Lookin’.” He mumbles, breath hitching.

“You breathin’ properly now?” She mumbles, jaw moving under his calloused palm as she eyes him sweetly, eyes reflecting all the love he feels for her in this moment.

He lets out a shaky exhale, his eyes slowly raking over her face, taking in all her features like he’d never seen them before, and he’s lost count of how many times he’s got lost in her tonight.

She’s beautiful, he thinks to himself. Stunning in an effortless way, always has been. Like she woke up this morning and was effortlessly gorgeous.

His hand is still on her face, his thumb brushing against her skin.

“Yeah.. yeah baby, ‘m breathin’ normal. You’re makin’ it all messed up ‘gain, though.”

He mumbles, breathing a little heavily out of his nose and it tickles at her skin, a soft smile makes its way onto her face at the look in his eyes, completely enamoured by her.

She lets a breath of laughter slip from her nose, it’s soft and sweet and his eyes visibly soften at the sound, ears perking up.

“You’re so handsome, J.” She mumbles, thumb never stopping it’s comforting ministrations against the damp skin of his cheek.

Her touch on his skin makes him shiver, his mind and body always being so receptive to her. He wants to hide his face when he calls her handsome. He doesn’t think he’s handsome. Hot, sure, he’s been called that many a time. Pretty, meh, makes his heart flutter a little when you mumble it against his ear in bed, but he’d never admit it. But handsome? He’s not handsome.

He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he averts his gaze.

“Don’t. ‘M not handsome..” He mutters under his breath.

Her heart breaks a little at his immediate denial of the compliment.

“You are, J.” She mumbles, hand coming under his jaw to lift his gaze back to hers.

“You are, JJ.” She reassures him again, making sure he really knows it, believes it.

“‘n our babies are gonna be too.”

His heart is doing the fluttering thing again, his stomach flip flopping inside of him as he meets her gaze.

Babies, plural.

Oh, Jesus.

The thought of having little babies running around looking like the perfect mix of the both of you has him reeling. He’s always had a hard time picturing his future, but mostly the father part, after everything he’s been through he could never see it for himself. But with her, the image never seemed so impossible.

He lets out a shaky breath, a tear slipping down his rosy cheek, fingers squeezing at her hip again.

“You think so?”

“I know so.” She smiles, thumb stroking over a larger bruise at his temple.

“‘N I know things are hard right now, but we’re gonna get through this rough patch together, yeah? We can sleep here, at the lighthouse, we’ll get jobs, then eventually buy a house, get married..” She speaks softly, the wind picking up a little and making her cheeks cold and frost bitten. They’re sixteen and homeless, but all they need is each other.

That night they hold each other closer than ever before, knocking out on the old mattress up in the look out tower, limbs tangled together and content just for the night. JJ had calmed down now, stripped down to just his underwear, her too, pressed up against his good side in bed, head rested against his shoulder as she sleeps soundly, for the first time in what feels like forever.

JJ eventually manages to fall asleep, too, her previous words on his mind all through his slumber, dreaming of Maybank family fishing days, and the beautiful house that he would raise his babies in, the love of his life by his side, dreaming of a future where he wasn’t ashamed of his last name, and everyone he loved dearly shared it with him.

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willowsnook · 3 days ago

Text

back to each other

request from @heavierthnheavenly

lewis hamilton x rosberg reader

please don’t leave

——————————————-

“Happy 30th my sweet sister,” Nico yelled at you as everyone cheered while you blew out the candles.

“Thanks, Nico,” you replied, catching your breath. 30 was here, and honestly, you felt like this was the beginning of the rest of your life. You remember thinking back when you were 23 that life was going by so fast and that you needed to accomplish x y, and z, but now that you hit this new milestone, you realized how young you really were.

“What’d you wish for?” Your best friend asked from next to you. Before you could answer, Nico jumped in.

“Hopefully a husband so she can stop mooching off of me.”

“Hey,” you said pouting. “I gave you back your credit card last year.”

Nico and your friends laughed and you felt filled with love from the people surrounding you. You posted a cute picture of the cake to your Insta story and grabbed a glass of wine to drink with your friends. They were going through all the standout guys you had dated in your 20s.

“Remember that one guy from the US who was the hockey player?”

“Biz?” You asked, thinking back to when you briefly lived in NYC. You’d met him at an event you had planned for the Rangers and were immediately charmed. He was the life of the party; dumber than a rock, though.

“I think he was definitely the funniest guy you’ve ever dated,” Nico said. Nico had met him once and was fascinated by the way he talked. The Canadian accent mixed with that hockey slang was like an alien language to your brother.

“Until he couldn’t keep it in his pants,” you reminded everyone. It was never serious between the two of you so you weren’t that heartbroken at the time, just mildly irritated.

“You need an older man,” your friend said and everyone nodded their heads in agreement. Your phone buzzed against your thigh and your eyebrows furrowed while looking at the notification.

“Speaking of older men, guess who just slid up on my story?”

“Who?” Your brother asked.

“Lewis,” you said, slightly confused. “He said ‘happy birthday sunshine, hope you had a day filled with those you love.’”

“I didn’t know you guys talked,” Nico said, trying to keep his voice casual.

“We don’t,” you said reassuring your brother. “Nothing more than pleasantries when I see him at races.”

While Lewis and Nico had mostly mended their relationship, it was still a sore subject in the family. It was a long time ago but you remember how he went from being someone that was like an older brother to you to someone whose name was forbidden to speak. Now when you saw him it was slightly awkward for you at least. You could tell he always wanted to speak more but you came up with any excuse to cut a conversation short.

“He’s just being friendly,” you said, pushing it to the back of your mind.

——————————————————

The last two weeks of your January were spent in Italy, and you really wished you could have been here in the summer instead, but duty calls. Working for an event marketing agency, you had garnered quite the reputation in your 8 years working for them and were now in charge of a lot of VIP events.

Ferrari had hired your firm to plan their season kickoff party and you had been ran ragged the past couple of months putting things together. You flew out 2 weeks in advance to be on the ground for finishing touches and you were proud of what your team accomplished. It was lavish.

Donning a floor length, black dress, you grabbed a champagne flute off a passing waiter, eyes scanning the room. Because of your seniority, you weren’t necessarily in charge of anything day of, but you couldn’t help but keep an eye out on how things were going.

The main ceremony went on without a hitch, people enjoyed their dinners, and now a DJ started a set for those who wanted to stay late and party. You made one last round, checking on your staff that was here before heading to the coat check. While waiting for the woman to retrieve your coat, you felt someone come up very close next to you.

“Leaving already?” Lewis asked, and you turned to take him in. He was wearing a fitted suit, the color of his new team, and a small smile.

“Yeah, my team has it under control,” you responded politely before turning to grab the coat.

“Please don’t leave,” he said, surprising you. “You always leave when I try to talk to you.”

“You know why,” you responded quietly and his eyes softened.

“That was a long time ago,” he murmured. “One drink.”

“Okay,” you said giving in. He still had the same effect on you that he did when you were 13 and hopelessly in love with your brother’s best friend. The need to please him still existed deep in your soul, even though you had tried to push it down. Nico wasn’t the only heart that Lewis had broken, intentional or not.

His hand rested on your lower back as you let yourself be guided back into the event with him and to the bar. You ordered a glass of wine and could feel the weight of his stare on the side of your face. Turning to look at him, he still didn’t say anything, it was like he was memorizing every inch of your face.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he said and you blushed, looking away.

“Thank you, Lewis,” you said back, voice wavering. You cursed yourself internally for still letting him have this effect on you.

“How long are you in Italy?” He asked.

“Just a couple more days, then back to London,” you told him and he tilted his head, thinking.

“Can I take you out?”

You stared at him dumbfounded, a small smirk working it’s way onto his face.

“Like on a date?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” You asked and he chuckled.

“I want to spend time with you,” he said, simply.

“I think the last time we hung out one on one, I had just turned 21,” you said, reminiscing.

Something had shifted back then when you had reached your 20s. Lewis had started to look at you in a different way. Suddenly you weren’t his friend’s little sister anymore, you were a grown, beautiful woman. You had danced the line with him between being friends and something more that season, but as his and your brother’s relationship quickly deteriorated you stepped back.

“Those were good times,” Lewis said. “Sometimes I think about what would have happened between us if things had gone differently at Mercedes.”

His admission made your body heat up and the way he was looking at you didn’t help.

“Too late now,” you whispered and he shook his head.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “I’ll pick you up from your hotel tomorrow afternoon.”

—————————————————————————

Lewis had texted you in the morning to wear something warm but casual so you picked out a soft white sweater to pair with jeans. After getting ready, you called the person that you needed to tell about this so that you could feel at ease.

“Hey y/n, what’s up? How was the event last night?” Nico said over the phone.

“It was good, everything went accordingly,” you replied nervous. “I talked with Lewis for a bit.”

The phone was silent and you sighed.

“That’s nice.” Your brother said tightly.

“He asked me to hang out while we’re both here,” you said quietly.

“Are you going to go?” He asked.

“If you don’t want me to Nico just say the word and I will cancel and we don’t have to ever discuss it again.”

The phone was quiet for a bit before he spoke again, “do you want to go out with him?”

“I don’t know,” you said sighing. “It’s complicated. I still remember what it felt like back then, and I haven’t had that feeling with any guy since. But then everything happened and it’s been almost ten years so I don’t know.”

“I don’t want you to put my feelings above your own happiness,” Nico said and you felt your eyes well up with tears. “Me and him are good okay? If you want to see where it goes, I’ll support you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. I love you,” he said.

“I love you too, I’ll talk to you later.”

By the time you collected yourself, Lewis had texted that he was waiting outside so you headed down to meet him. He was standing outside his car, in a Tommy sweater, shades covering his eyes. His lips turned upwards as he saw you and he greeted you with a tight hug, kissing your cheek softly.

“Beautiful, as always,” he complimented and you smiled softly at him, blush filling your cheeks. He helped you into the car and you waited for him to get in.

“I thought maybe we could walk around the city and check out one of the art museums,” he suggested and you nodded. The car ride to downtown was quiet, soft music playing in the background as you stared out the window.

Cold air stung your face as you got out of the car but you didn’t mind, you loved the cold. You and Lewis started walking and small chatter took over the silence between the two of you. You told him about everywhere your job had taken you and what London was like now. He told you about some of the brand partnerships he was working on and how hard the last two seasons at Mercedes had been.

As you walked through the streets of Milan, you felt yourself relaxing more in Lewis' presence. His warm smile and easy conversation reminded you of the close friendship you used to have years ago, before everything got complicated.

"I've missed this," Lewis said softly as you strolled side by side. "Just talking with you, being around you."

You glanced at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. "I've missed it too," you admitted.

Reaching the art museum, you spent the next couple hours wandering through the exhibits together. Lewis was surprisingly knowledgeable about art history, and you found yourself engrossed in discussions about various paintings and sculptures.

As you exited the museum, the sky had darkened and a light snow was falling. Lewis gently took your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. The gesture felt so natural, so right, that you didn't pull away.

“Why now, after all this time?" You blurted out.

Lewis was quiet for a moment before responding. "I've done a lot of reflecting lately. On my career, my relationships, the things that truly matter. And I realized that one of my biggest regrets was letting you slip away without ever exploring what could have been between us."

His words made your heart skip a beat. You'd tried so hard over the years to push down your feelings for Lewis, convincing yourself it was just a convenient crush.

“Lewis…,” you started but he cut you off.

“I want to try, y/n,” he said. “We can take things slow but I need to try.”

“Okay,” you whispered and he grinned.

————————————————————-

The next couple of weeks were spent texting each other back and forth; Lewis showered you with gifts sent to your London apartment: flowers, chocolate, food, and a paddock pass for the beginning of the season testing.

You ended up flying to Bahrain with Nico who had to be there for work and you could tell that he was still uneasy about what was growing between you and Lewis so you really didn’t bring it up.

Lewis was already at the track when you arrived, so you didn’t get to see him until the following day, which was fine by you. You needed a moment to calm your nerves and take in the environment. Anytime you had been at a race, it had been with a Mercedes pass around your neck, so Ferrari's red was a weird change. You ended up arriving at the same time as Charles Leclerc, whom you had met a handful of times over the years.

“Y/n, good to see you!” He exclaimed, eyes lighting up. “Here with Nico?”

“Lewis invited me actually,” you said and his eyes widened with surprise. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he said smirking. “How does your brother feel about that?”

You shrugged, “He’s trying.”

Charles nodded and fell in step beside you, insisting you find him to meet his girlfriend, Alex, later on. When you reached the garage, you saw Lewis already in his element, arms crossed, talking to an engineer while looking over the car. Hearing Charles talking, he turned his head and a smile broke out when he saw you.

“Hi love,” he said as he got closer to you.

“Hi Lewis,” you replied, reaching your arms around his shoulders. His own arms wrapped tightly around your waist. “Ready for today?”

“Of course,” he said pulling back and smiling at you. “I’ve done this a couple of times now.

“Mmhmm, only a couple right?” You teased and he chuckled.

He led you over to near his car, finding a spot for you against the wall.

“I want you right here,” he instructed. “This way you are the first thing I see when I get back out.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, “such a charmer you are.”

“Only for you,” he teased back and you flushed. “I’m happy you’re here.”

“Thanks for inviting me.”

Testing was testing, and Lewis looked good to you; the team seemed happy in the garage, so you took that as a good sign. Sure enough, you were the first thing Lewis saw as he got out of the car.

“I have a bunch of meetings for the rest of the day, but I’d love if you’d join me for dinner with the team,” he said and you nodded, agreeing to meet him later. You left the garage to find your brother who was on a break from being on air.

“He looked good,” Nico said. “Weird seeing him in that car though.”

“I know, I really thought he’d never leave,” you said.

You and Nico chatted for a while longer about the day's testing before he had to get back to work. As you wandered through the paddock, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness about dinner with Lewis and the Ferrari team later.

When evening came, you made your way to the restaurant where the team dinner was being held. As you approached, you saw Lewis waiting outside for you, looking handsome in a typical stylish Lewis Hamilton fit.

"There you are," he said warmly, pulling you into a hug. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," you replied, smoothing down your dress. "I hope I'm not overdressed."

"Not at all," Lewis assured you. "Come on, let's head inside."

As you entered the restaurant, you were greeted by the lively chatter of the Ferrari team. Lewis kept his hand on the small of your back, making sure you stayed close to his side. He let you pick where to sit and you sat across from Charles and his girlfriend.

The two of you hit it off, chatting throughout dinner with Charles chiming in or talking to someone else. Lewis was always quieter in big groups, so you were used to him silently observing. His hand rested on your thigh as he relaxed, gently tracing your skin.

Eventually, you got up to use the restroom, Alex following you.

“So how long have you guys been together?” She asked as you were touching up your lipgloss in the mirror.

“Oh we aren’t,” you replied to her surprise. “We are seeing where things go.”

She bit her lip, looking at you with a smile on her face.

“The way he looks at you,” she started and you met her eyes in the mirror. “It’s like no one else is there. Only you.”

You smiled to yourself thinking of that look you had caught on his face a couple of times tonight.

“I guess so,” you muttered lightly and she squeezed your hand.

Something shifted in you as you walked back to the table and you really looked at him as he lit back up at your arrival.

As you sat back down next to Lewis, you felt a warmth spread through your chest. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at you, the gentle pressure of his hand as it found its way back to your thigh - it all felt so right. You found yourself leaning into him slightly, drawn to his presence.

The rest of the dinner flew by in a blur of laughter and conversation. As people started to filter out, Lewis turned to you.

"Want to take a walk?" he asked softly. You nodded, standing up and saying your goodbyes to the remaining team members.

The night air was cool as you stepped outside, and Lewis immediately wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. You walked in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying each other's company.

"I'm really glad you came," Lewis said eventually, breaking the quiet. "It means a lot to have you with me.”

You smiled up at him, feeling a flutter in your chest. "I'm glad I came too. It's been nice spending time with you again."

Lewis stopped walking and turned to face you, his eyes intense. "Y/n, I know we said we'd take things slow, but I can't help how I feel. Being with you these past few weeks, it's like no time has passed at all. All those old feelings are right there on the surface."

Your breath caught in your throat as he gently cupped your face with his hands. "I'm falling for you all over again," he murmured. "And this time, I don't want to let you go."

Your heart was pounding as you gazed into his eyes. All the reasons you had pushed him away before seemed to fade away. This felt right. It felt like coming home.

"Lewis," you whispered, "I think I'm falling back in love with you.”

Instead of responding with words, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. You melted into the kiss, moving your lips slowly against his as he held you close to his body.

“I’m glad we found our way back to each other,” he murmured and you smiled softly at him. Holding his hand in yours as you walked back to the hotel. Love finds a way.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader

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greengoblinswifey · 8 hours ago

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Sweet Revenge—Salesman x Fem!Reader

summary— A heated argument with the salesman, the smug Squid Game recruiter, turns into a rough and unexpected night of fucking, leaving you questioning your entire life choices.

warnings— enemies to lovers, arguing, fingering, degradation, praise kink, face slapping, choking, hair pulling, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, slight aftercare.

The knock on the hotel door was loud and sharp. The Salesman, ever composed, adjusted his tie before opening it, expecting room service instead, he found you.

You stood there, furious, with a fire in your eyes that caught him off guard. “You didn’t think I’d fucking find you, did you?” you spat, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

He closed the door calmly, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about what brought you here.��

“You know exactly why I’m here,” you hissed, looking up at him. “You ruined lives. Mine included. I want answers.”

He tilted his head, his expression as unreadable as usual. “I gave you a choice, didn’t I? Everyone who plays has a choice.”

“Don’t give me that shit. You knew what you were doing. You preyed on desperate people. And now, you’re going to pay for it,” you snapped, hands clenched into fists.

His laugh was low and soft, infuriatingly amused. “And how exactly do you plan to make me pay?”

Your breath hitched as he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “B-by holding you accountable,” you managed, though your voice wavered.

“If that’s what you want, then go ahead. But something tells me this isn’t just about revenge,” he leaned down, his voice a murmur.

You hated how his confidence pissed you off, how his piercing gaze seemed to strip you naked. You hated how cocky he was.

“Stop fucking playing games,” you demanded.

“But sweetheart, games are what I do best,” he replied, his smirk deepening. “Tell me, are you here to hurt me or for something else?”

You hated him. You hated his arrogance, his calm demeanor, the way he seemed untouchable. But more than that, you hated the way he looked at you, like he knew exactly how much power he had over you.

“Shut up,” you snapped, grabbing his tie and pulling him down to your level. His eyes widened just slightly before his smirk returned. “No more games. No more excuses. You don’t get to control this anymore.”

For a moment, he seemed to consider your words. Then, in one swift motion, he closed the space between you, his lips capturing yours. It was fierce and unrelenting, a battle for control neither of you wanted to lose. You shoved him back, your chest heaving as you glared at him. “You think this fixes everything?”

“No,” he said, his eyes darkening. “But I think you’re acting like a bitch because you haven’t been properly fucked.”

His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as your resistance faltered. You hated him, truly, deeply hated him. But your body betrayed you, melting into his touch, craving more of what you couldn’t admit you wanted.

The kiss was so hot, igniting a storm of emotions you couldn’t tame. His lips moved against yours with a roughness that made your head spin. You pressed closer, your fingers tangling in his neatly styled hair, ruining the composure he seemed to hold onto so tightly.

But he wasn’t just kissing you, the asshole was claiming you. His hands roamed with purpose, sliding down your back before gripping your ass firmly. Then, his fingers hiked your dress higher.

The sound of fabric tearing ripped through the air, and you gasped, pulling back just enough to glare at him. “What the fuck?”

He smirked, holding up the remnants of your thong like a trophy. “Who did you wear this for?”

“Shut up,” you shot back, your voice trembling with frustration and something else.

“Oh, I see,” he murmured, leaning closer. “You wore it for me, didn’t you? My desperate little slut couldn’t help herself.”

Before you could retort, his hand slid between your thighs, rough fingers finding your pussy. You gasped again, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he thrust two fingers inside without warning.

“Motherfuck—”

“Quiet,” he commanded, his. “You’ll take what I give you like the slut you are. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

His fingers moved in sharp, unrelenting thrusts, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. “You’re such a mess,” he taunted, his other hand gripping your throat to make you look at him. “All this attitude, and for what? You’ve been waiting for me to just ruin you, haven’t you?”

You bit your lip, refusing to answer, but your body betrayed you, drenching his fingers and fluttering around them. He chuckled, clearly pleased by your reaction.

“Come on,” he taunted, his thrusts quickening. “Let me hear you say it slut. Tell me how badly you wanted this.”

“Fuck, I—” your words broke with a moan, unable to fight the pleasure building inside you.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

“Fine!” you cried out, your resolve crumbling. “I wanted it, okay? I wanted this!”

“Good girl,” he murmured, a satisfied smirk on his face. His fingers moved impossibly faster, pushing you right to the brink. “Now, don’t hold back. Let me see you cum.”

And unfortunately, you did. Your body shook as the coil snapped, waves of pleasure crashing over you. He didn’t stop, drawing out every last tremor until you were left trembling in his arms.

When you finally caught your breath, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your neck. “That’s my good fucking slut,” he whispered.

You lifted your palm and the moment your hand connected with his face, the sound of the slap echoed in the room. His head tilted slightly from the force, but the reaction wasn’t what you expected. The salesman didn’t look angry. Nah, he looked, amused?

A dark chuckle left his lips, and his gaze locked with yours, sharp. “Again,” he said, his voice taunting.

Your chest heaved with frustration, your fingers trembling, but you raised your hand and slapped him again. This time, the impact left a faint flush on his cheek. He didn’t flinch. Instead, he smirked, that expression driving you to the edge.

“Feel better now?” he teased, his tone filled with mockery.

“Go to hell,” you spat, but before you could say more, he grabbed your wrist and spun you around with little effort.

“Careful,” he murmured against your ear as he pushed you onto the bed, your stomach pressing into the mattress. His weight settled over you, keeping you firmly in place. “You might make me think you enjoy this.”

Your breath hitched as you felt the press of his bulge against you. The sound of his belt unbuckling sent a jolt of anticipation through your body, though you refused to let him see it.

“Don’t even,” you warned, your voice trembling as you turned your head slightly to glare at him.

“Still talking back,” he muttered, his hands gripping your hips firmly. “I’m going to ruin that little pussy of yours.”

“You’re so full of—”

Before you could finish, he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. “Go ahead,” he growled. “Say something else. Curse me out. I love it”

“Fuck you jackass,” you hissed, trying to wriggle free, but his grip only tightened.

“Good girl,” he mocked, his voice dripping with amusement. “You’re so predictable. So easy to rile up. But I know what you really want.”

“You don’t know anything,” you snapped, but your defiance faltered when he pushed against you harder, his body flush against yours.

“You’re shaking,” he whispered. “Is it fear or excitement? Maybe both?”

Your heart raced and you shuddered as he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck. “Don’t fight it, sweetheart. You and I both know this is exactly what you were begging for.”

He didn’t wait any longer. His hands gripped your hips firmly, pulling you back on his hard cock as he pushed forward. The sound of his sharp intake of breath filled the air as he settled into a rhythm, steady at first but quickly turning into thrusts that were rough and relentless.

“You fucking feel that?” he murmured. “This is what your little pussy has been begging for, isn’t it?”

Your breath hitched, your fingers curling into the bedsheets. “I—” you tried to protest, but the words stuck in your throat as he fucked you faster, each thrust sending a spark of pleasure up your spine.

“You can’t even speak,” he mocked, a dark chuckle vibrating against the back of your neck as he leaned down. “What happened to all that attitude, huh?”

“Shut up,” you hissed, trying to hold on to some semblance of control, but the way he pounded you, relentless, purposeful, was breaking you down.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” he said as he pressed kisses along your neck, his teeth grazing your skin making you shiver. “You’re not in charge anymore. You’re mine. My slut.”

Your defiance wavered as a moan slipped from your lips, louder than you intended. His hand slid around your waist, pressing against your lower stomach, holding you steady as he angled his cock deeper.

“That’s it,” he growled. “Good girl. Taking my dick so well.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, the pleasure overwhelming as he kept his pace steady but unforgiving. “F-fuck,” you breathed, your voice shaking.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he teased, his lips brushing against your ear. “You want more? Say it.”

Your pride battled with your desire, but the way he stretched your pussy, the way he spoke to you, it was too much. “Yes,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. “Harder.”

“I didn’t hear you,” he said, a smirk evident in his voice.

“Harder!” you cried out, your hands gripping the sheets as he complied, his thrusts turning harder, deeper.

“There she is,” he murmured, his lips trailing kisses down your neck, his free hand tangling in your curls. “That’s my slut. So pretty like this, falling apart for me.”

“I—I can’t!” you cried, your body betrayed you, your legs trembling as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“Yes, you can,” he encouraged, his tone softening just slightly. “Give it to me. I want to feel you cum.”

And then it happened. A surge of bliss so overwhelming it left you a moaning mess, your body trembling beneath him as you soaked the sheets and his cock. He moaned deeply, his movements faltering as he chased his own orgasm.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice low and breathless as he kissed the back of your neck, holding you close as he came, ropes and ropes of his cum spilling into you.

The room fell silent except for the sound of your ragged breaths, and as he finally emptied every drop of cum in you, he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “You were perfect,” he murmured, his hand stroking your back as he pulled you into his arms, his lips brushing against your forehead.

What the hell had just happened? What did you just do? You’d crossed a line, broke a boundary you didn’t even realize existed until now.

“Fuck you,” you muttered, your voice filled with embarrassment and disbelief.

The salesman only chuckled as his fingers gently traced circles along your bare skin. “That’s not what you were saying a few minutes ago,” he teased.

You scoffed, covering your face with your hands as if that would erase what just happened, or his cum still swirling in your pussy. “Oh my God,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. “What the fuck did I just do?”

He pulled back slightly to turn you toward him. His eyes were dark but warm, his smirk still in place as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “You lived a little,” he said, his voice gentler now. “And let me tell you—you can take dick.”

You glared at him, though the effect was dulled by the way your body heated up. “Shut up,” you snapped, shoving at his chest weakly.

He only laughed, pulling you tighter against him. “You’ll thank me later,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You lay there in his arms, your mind racing as the reality of what just happened settled over you. How had you let this happen? How had he managed to get under your skin like this? The weight of what you’d just done was impossible to ignore, but as he held you close, his steady presence and casual confidence made it hard to fully regret it, no matter how much you wanted to.

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paperclip-skz · 3 days ago

Text

Love 2 Walk

Chan x reader

Warning: fingering, kissing, the mention of nicknames (babygirl), praising, teasing, squirting, fingering, overstimulation,cream pie (wrap it up), rough sex, over clothes stimulation, I’m sure I missed smt let me know in the comments!

WC: 6.5k.... I know..

Also note: This story is HEAVLY influenced by the Webtoon series Love 4 Walk. This is just "my" version of it, you could say. I am writing to write and I recommend you read the series. *** This is not an original idea, this IS INSPIRED BY AN ANIME**

Credits to: Nuria Sanguino for the ORIGINAL webtoon story!!

Synopsis: how does one fall hopelessly in love with their neighbor? Oh, no biggy, just by walking their dog 😉.

******

Beep beep beep.

The sun streams through the cracks in my bedroom curtains, casting warm beams of light that punctuate the shadows of the room. I squint against the brightness, feeling the dull thrum of morning settling around me. “Ugh,” I groan, reluctantly peeling my eyelids apart to greet the day. But just as I begin to indulge in a few more moments of drowsy tranquility, a sudden, playful jab from a hard little foot strikes me squarely in the side. “Ow, Bruno! Just five more minutes,” I croak out, my voice thick with sleep.

Yet, my protest is short-lived. In mere moments, Bruno, my exuberant Doberman, has taken matters into his own paws. He’s showering my face with enthusiastic kisses, the warm, wet sensations breaking through my lingering sleepiness. “Ew,” I manage to squeak out, half-heartedly stretching my arms above my head and swiping at the slobber glistening on my cheek.

As my senses awaken fully, I finally focus on the source of my morning disturbance. There’s Bruno, sitting next to my bed with his tail wagging vigorously; the unmistakable joy radiating from him is infectious. His glossy coat shines in the sunlight, and his big, brown eyes are practically pleading with me. Any lingering frustration I had evaporated, replaced by an overwhelming wave of affection. How could I possibly stay mad at that adorable, eager face?

“Awe, who’s my baby boy?” I coo in a sing-song voice, unable to resist the allure of his charm. “Are you just bursting with excitement to go for a walk?”

With a playful bark and a little tap dance of his paws, Bruno seems to agree emphatically.

Thirty minutes later, after a whirlwind of getting ready, I stand by the door of my apartment, dressed in my work clothes—an elegant blouse paired with tailored trousers and my favorite heels. I take a moment to adjust my outfit, making sure everything is in place, when Bruno bounces in anticipation, ready for our quick thirty-minute adventure before my workday begins. With a final glance in the mirror and a quick pat on Bruno’s head, I open the door, stepping out into the brisk morning air, ready for whatever the day may hold….

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Bruno is an exceptional dog and undeniably the best companion I could ever have. His floppy ears and wagging tail always bring a smile to my face, even when he defies my commands with his playful mischief. We have a special bond, one forged through countless adventures and quiet moments together—always Bruno and I against the world.

Yet, our daily walks have become increasingly challenging. The moment we step outside, his excitement takes over; he pulls on the leash with fervor, eager to explore every scent and sound. It feels like I’m trying to hold back a small locomotive, making it more and more difficult to keep him by my side. And then there are my shoes. Oh, my poor shoes! They’ve transformed into his favorite chew toys, often left in a state of disarray, bits of fabric hanging from his mischievous mouth. Despite his less-than-stellar listening skills, I remind myself daily of the joy he brings into my life.

Today is a special day. As I prepare to leave for work, I’m excitedly installing my brand new doggie cam—a small but powerful device that promises to give me a window into his world while I’m away. “Now, Bruno,” I tell him, crouching down so we’re eye to eye. “With this camera, I’ll be able to see everything you do, so I hope you behave yourself!” His ears perk up, flicking back and forth in what seems like focused attention, and for a moment, I almost believe he comprehends the weight of my words.

Standing at the threshold, I hesitate, reluctant to close the door fully. I peek through the small crack, watching him as he sniffs around the room, his tail wagging like a little flag of excitement. “Be good, buddy,” I say softly, my voice laced with affection and a hint of concern. With that, I finally muster the courage to shut the door, leaving him in the safety of our home—hoping he’ll have some fun but also checking in on him from afar.

**** at work

“Gooood morning” I announce.

“Good morning Y/N” Annie greets me behind her little cubicle desk. “So when can I tell you about last night's new hottie” he exclaims, clapping her hands.

“In one sec, just let me check my new cam.” I eagerly open my phone to check my camera…

“Oh good heavens.” my face drops in horror as I watch my Baby Bruno shred the cushions of my couch to pieces!

“What??” Annie looks at me worried, and I turn my phone to show the scary scene unfolding in my living room.

“Oh, honey.” Her face mimics mine, hurt with a mix of fright. " You need to get that dog a trainer,” she admits.

I sigh in defeat….”I think it's time.”

***** back at home

After the day is done and my head is pounding, I finally make it up the stairs to my apartment. I steady my hand on the door handle, unprepared to see the damage. The door creeks open and my jaw drops.

“BRUNO WHAT DID YOU DO!” the pillows are torn, the cushions are ripped, somehow the paintings on the wall are tilled at an angle and the carpet is folded over!

“BRUNO HOW COULD YOU! BAD DOG! BAD BAD BAD!”

~~~~

“There she goes again,” Chan grobbles, lifting himself off of his bed. He slings his arm into one of his shirts and slips his socked feet into some nearby crocs. “Wait here girl, I’ll be right back”.

The familiar sound of his neighbor's high-pitched screams fills the air, a jarring reminder of her vibrant personality. She often yells about movies, her passionately animated rants echoing through the thin walls whenever she's on a call. He can almost picture her pacing back and forth, waving her arms in excitement or frustration over the latest plot twist. And then there’s her dog, a big, overly energetic creature who seems to be the target of her shouts on most days. Whether it’s scolding him for stealing a shoe, begging him to stop barking, or even adoring him for the smallest things, her voice carries down the hallway, a constant backdrop to his weary journey home.

He slams his fits against her front door, “hello!” he calls.

The sound of her heels clicking rhythmically against the wooden floor echoed through the hallway, growing louder with each step until the door swung open. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his irritation evident in the sharpness of his voice. “Can you keep it down? Your yelling woke me up.”

She paused at the threshold, her wide eyes filled with a mixture of apology and concern. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice soft and sincere. “I pro-” But her attempt to explain was abruptly interrupted as Bruno seized the moment, darting past her and out the door in a sudden, frantic escape.

“BRUNO”

“Sit!” Chan commands firmly, his voice cutting through the air and surprising Bruno, who hadn't been anticipating the order. The suddenness of it makes Bruno halt immediately, his posture shifting as he straightens up. He glances back over his shoulder, locking eyes with Chan, seeking reassurance or perhaps understanding.

“Sit!” Chan repeats, his tone unyielding yet encouraging. Without a moment’s hesitation, Bruno plops down right in front of Chan, a look of bewilderment etched across his face. His large, expressive eyes convey a mixture of confusion and eagerness to please.

“Good boy, come,” Chan praises, his smile widening as he encourages Bruno to follow the next command. With an enthusiastic wag of his tail, Bruno leaps to his feet, ready to obey, his previous uncertainty dissolving as he tracks Chan's movements closely. He follows each instruction effortlessly.

“Go on,” Chan says, guiding Bruno back inside. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just keep it down, will ya?” Once he looks back at his neighbor, her jaw slacks, and her eyes are blown.

“How…how did you do that?”

“You just have to be stern. Now I’m going back to sleep.” Chan turns back to his door, but Y/N leaps in front of him.

“Will you train my dog?!”

~~~~~~~

“I’ll pay you!” I exclaim. This has to be a sign. A gorgeous man that just happens to live right next door to me, AND Bruno listens to me, my prayers have been answered.

“What” he furrows his brow.

“Just watch him while I’m away at work, train him a little so he dosn’t ruin my apartment, and….don’t steal anything” I shrug.

“Ruin your apartment?”.....

>>>> back in the apartment

“So this is ‘ruin your apartment’” he air quotes gesturing to the mess that is my living room.

“Is it not” I question, while Bruno makes himself comfortable on my torn couch. He wags his tail happily as he chew on one of his favorite toys.

“Fair enough” Chan walks around the living room scanning all the little details of the room. He spins on the ball of his heel, “that’ll be…$20 an hour” he says bluntly.

WHAT! I scream in my head. “$20 an hour! I work a full 8-hour shift, thats too much!”

“Yup, take it or leave it” he shrugs.

I took a deep breath, knowing full well that adopting Bruno wasn’t merely a casual commitment; it was a full-time job that came with a mountain of responsibilities. The thought of him sitting at home alone, wanting companionship and care, tugged at my heart. To me, Bruno wasn’t just a pet; he was family, and like any family, he deserved nothing but the best.

After contemplating, I straightened my shoulders and decided, “Fine. I’ll do it.” My voice rang with determination, surprising Chan, who blinked at me in astonishment. It seemed my willingness to accept the terms had caught him off guard.

I couldn’t help but add, “My Bruno deserves the best.” This was more than just a job offer; it was my promise to ensure he received the love and attention he warranted.

A moment passed and I could a hint of a smile on his lips…. His rosey plump lips that I am not just noticing how beautiful they are. And how his eyes shine in the light so perfectly, or how his hair falls just above his eyes, or how broad his chest is….Y/N snap out of it!

“Okay, well then you’ll need to pay me by the end of the week, and I’ll need a spare key to your apartment.”

“Right,” my voice wavers. It suddenly hits me at once: I just invited a complete stranger into my apartment, offered to pay him, and spend time with the most important person in my life. What the hell am I doing?

My nerves are on edge, causing me to scrutinize each and every move he makes. I observe him intently, my gaze fixed like that of a hawk, as he gently strokes the soft fur of my beloved Baby Bruno. I can’t help but notice how his fingers delicately glide over Bruno’s back, and I feel a surge of protectiveness wash over me. Every interaction seems to unravel layers of my anxiety, making me hyper-aware of the atmosphere around us.

“I can hear your nerves from here, you know” Bruno spins a s circle around Chan; his little happy dance always eases my anxiety. “Look, I was kidding about the 20-an-hour thing. 20 a week is perfectly fine.”

My jaw shuts like a cartoon. “But- why-”

“Becuase I know how much you love your dog”

“But we only just met” I counter.

“I told you I can hear everything through the walls”

I scratch my brain trying to think what he could possibly mean…until it hits me.

<<<<<<<<<< the past

Four months ago, I was dating this guy. We thought that before moving on to the next steps—getting married, having kids, the whole shebang—it would be best to practice responsibility together by getting a dog.

But I guess we all show our true colors under pressure.

“LET'S JUST GET RID OF THE DAMN THING!” Noah shouted at the top of his lungs.

“NO, WE ADOPTED HIM! WE TOOK ON THE RESPONSIBILITY! WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF THIS WERE OUR CHILD AND THEY WERE ACTING OUT?” I screamed back at him, tears streaking down my cheeks as I held on tightly to Bruno's body. The shattered lamp lay broken into pieces around us.

“BUT THIS ISN’T OUR KID, THIS IS JUST A DAMN DOG. THAT’S IT, Y/N, YOU HAVE TO CHOOSE, ME OR THE DAMN DOG”

After that night, I told myself I would never let anyone come between me and Bruno. If someone couldn’t understand our bond, then no one could understand me.

>>>>>>>>>> the present

“You heard the fight that night.”

Chan just hums as he continues petting Bruno’s fur. “I was so pissed off that night, but once I heard you yell at him to leave, I knew you and I were the same is some ways”

“Oh?” I question crossing my hands over my chest.

“You and I share the same belief: people can hurt, lie, and abandon you, but dogs simply do not have it in their hearts to do the same.” He says, his eyes bleeding with truth. Even though I’ve been a dog owner for only a short time, I love Bruno more than I could ever imagine. I see his innocence, and I know he would never hurt me or anyone else without a valid reason. He’s not like everyone else in the world; he simply can’t hurt anyone.

“Wait…the same belief?”

Chan chuckles to himself, “Yeah, I have a dog. Her name is Berry, she’s a King Charles”

>>>>> time jump!

And so the morning training walks began.

Chan would come over during the week and stay with Bruno until you returned home from work. He’d train Bruno to listen and obey while you worked the day away.

Chan would also accompany you on your daily morning walk, thats when you met Berry. She was clearly Chan’s princess, feeding her only the best treats and dressing her up in tiny bows to compliment her wavy fur.

The weeks rolled by and you and Chan became pretty good friends, quickly finding a perfect medium in your relationship….so why did your heart race every time he got a little too close? Or why did you immediately recognize his vanilla smell every time he left your apartment, and why did it make your head dizzy with need?

>>> another time jump!

“Ahhh, Saturdays. How I adore Saturdays,” I exclaimed softly, sighing contentedly as I cradle a warm mug of coffee in my hands. The rich aroma envelops me, and I take a small, savoring sip, letting the smooth brew awaken my senses. “No work, late mornings,” I murmur, my gaze drifting out the window. The horizon glows with the gentle hues of dawn, while the sun begins to rise, casting golden rays through the leaves of the trees that sway gracefully in the soft breeze.

“Woof!” Bruno barks enthusiastically, abruptly pulling me from my serene reverie.

“Ah, Bruno,” I say, chuckling lightly. Can’t you wait just five more seconds? You just have to have your walk, don’t you?” I lean my body weight on the counter, my fingers tracing the surface as I look down at him. His head tilts to the side, a curious expression illuminating his face, and those big, expressive eyes radiate eagerness.

“I can’t lie…I’m excited too,” I admit with a grin, bouncing slightly on the balls of my feet. My excitement feels palpable as if it's sparking an electric current in the air around me.

I can't wait to see those captivating coffee-stained eyes, filled with warmth and kindness, and that broad chest—strong and dependable—it makes my mind race with ideas of how strong his arms truly are.

Moments later, I find myself stepping out of my apartment in my bright sunshine yellow sundress. The fabric dances lightly around my knees as I clip the leash onto Bruno’s collar, ready for our afternoon adventure. Just as I’m about to close the door behind me, I hear Chan’s voice call out from a short distance away.

“Oh hey, Y/N!” Chan exclaims, his friendly tone breaking the afternoon stillness.

I turn my head over my shoulder, securing my clutch with one hand as I turn the key in the lock. There, walking out of his apartment is Chan, accompanied by his delightful little dog, Berry. A smile spreads across my face as I catch sight of them. “Hey, Chan!” I reply, my excitement bubbling up as I get down on my knees to greet Berry.

“Hey there, pretty princess!” I say, reaching out to pet Berry’s soft fur. The small brown dog wiggles with delight, her tiny tail wagging furiously as she happily responds to my touch.

Chan walks a bit closer, observing the playful antics of our dogs. “You guys going on a walk, too?” he asks, a knowing smile on his face. He watches Bruno and Berry bounce around each other like they’ve been friends for ages. Despite the stark contrast in their sizes—Bruno is a towering fluffy creature and Berry a petite little ball of energy—their friendship is evident. It’s as if Berry doesn’t even notice the size difference; her joy is contagious.

“Yea,” I answer, lifting from my knees.

“Can we tag along?”

>>> Saturday walk

“Why are you still at that job?!” Chan exclaims, his laughter bubbling from his chest.

“Because it pays well,” I laugh with him. I just told him about my last boss, who got fired for accidentally showing some… sensitive material during a meeting a few months ago. “I really enjoy my job. Even though it can be a bit boring sometimes, I love being in a business that brings joy to people,” I explain.

Chan listens and nods, watching our dogs as they walk closely together. “You know, you’ve never really told me in detail what you do for work,” I say, nudging his shoulder.

“Well,” he scratches the back of his neck. I’m a producer, as you know.” I nod. " People send me voice tracks, and I make other tracks to make a song.” He shrugs, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

“Yes yes, you’ve told me all that before, but who have you worked for” I raise my brow intending to tease him.

“Haha, I can’t tell you that” he mimics my earlier shrug.

“Uugh” I groan. “Fine, if you can’t tell me who you work with, then can you at least tell me what kind of music you work on?” I ask, pleading with my eyes.

He just smirks and thinks about it for a second, making a dramatic attempt to stall, “okay…I work on a lot of hip hop music and rap music. I also dabble in rock” he sighs out, his smile spreading across his cheeks. He so obviously proud of his work it's cute.

“Can I hear it?” I ask biting my lip. I know I’m asking for too much, he’s already so careful around me, especially talking about his work.

He brings us to a halt looking down at me. I can tell he’s thinking hard about this, he’s staring so intently at me, but his face softens, and he relaxes, like a weight has lifted off of his chest.

~~~~~

This is his chance, he finally has an excuse to ask you over to his place. Its the perfect timing, the perfect reason, and the perfect way. So why can’t the words fall off his lips?

Why can’t he take his eyes off of you and why can’t his body move?!

From the moment you entrusted him with the responsibility of looking after Bruno while you were busy at work, a subtle shift began to take place in the dynamic between you two. As days turned into weeks, he found himself increasingly drawn to you in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Initially, he brushed off his feelings, attributing them to mere loneliness - He thought he was just infatuated with the first beautiful girl who caught his attention.

However, everything changed the day he heard your laughter for the first time. It rang out like music, bright and infectious, enveloping him in a warmth that made his heart race. It was like fireworks shooting out of his chest, and his whole body felt like it was lifting off the ground. And your smile, god how he could never get used to that smile. He loved the way your eyes squeezed tight when your smile met your ears, he knew you couldn’t fake a smile, your real smile was just too genuine.

At that moment, he felt an undeniable spark, a realization that his feelings ran far deeper than he had ever imagined. He would catch himself stealing glances at you, captivated not just by your appearance but also by your kindness, your passion—everything that made you uniquely you. It dawned on him that what he thought was a passing fancy had transformed into something much more.

“Have dinner at my place” it tumbles out like a wall crashing down.

“What?”

Oh shit. Make words make sense. “You can hear one of the songs I’m working on, if you come over, and since you’d be over why not just have dinner?” nice.

Your face is the embodiment of shock, and confusion…but the second he sees that lovely smile appear he finally lets himself breath. “Okay!” you bounce.

“Okay, so my place, lets say….6?” stay calm stay calm stay calm.

“Yea, 6 is great!”

>>>>>> that night

Okay, red dress or black? I rummage through my clothes in my closet deciding what's best to wear to a friend's dinner. Ugh, but I don’t want to be friends. What says “I don’t want to be friends I want to be more, but I also don’t want to make you uncomfortable with the wrong message”?

Black….just go with the black dress.

I glide my hands over the soft fabric of the outfit, feeling how it clings comfortably to my skin. The cardigan, in a rich shade of blue, perfectly complements my favorite colors, adding a vibrant touch to my overall look. My cherry red lipstick stands out brilliantly, making my eyes sparkle when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. "Finally done," I say with a satisfied smile, admiring how everything comes together.

Turning away, I notice Bruno, my faithful companion, peacefully sleeping on my bed. His fur glimmers softly in the ambient light. I can’t resist walking over to him, and I lean down to plant a gentle air kiss on his forehead, whispering, "Goodnight, my good boy." With a fond glance back at him, I head toward the door.

Its only a few short steps before I’m knocking on Chan’s door. I can hear the shuffle of him and Berry behind the wood, before the door swings open.

“Hey!” he says, his smile reaching his eyes.

“Hey” I giggle back. He steps aside so I can gracefully walk in and I immediately lean down to pet Berry. “Hi princess” I sing.

“Okay okay, the princess can go to bed” he says as he leans down to pick Berry up and take her away to some hidden room.

Once he comes back he sees the pout on my face, “she was fine” I say.

“I know, but now is the time for the adults.” my cheeks flush. “Wine?”

“Love some”

*****************

“Wow, that was incredible!” I exclaim, setting down my knife, my plate completely bare.

“Thanks,” he replies, his cheeks tinged with a hint of shyness as he leans down to collect our empty plates.

“I really mean it! I had no idea you were such a talented cook,” I tease, my voice playful and inviting.

“Ha, yeah, well, I guess we both have our secrets,” he shrugs, his eyes sparkling as he heads to the kitchen sink.

His words linger in the air. I really don’t know much about him, maybe we could change this. “How about we spice things up and play a drinking game? It’ll be a fun way to get to know each other,” I smile, raising my nearly empty glass with a seductive glimmer in my eye.

He pauses for a moment, the intrigue clear in his gaze, then settles back onto the couch, nodding in agreement. “What exactly are the rules of this drinking game?”

I smirk, pulling my glass closer to my chest, the heat of the wine pulsing through my veins. "Alright, we play my game. You guess something about me—if you’re right, I drink; if you’re wrong, you drink. And vice versa." I let a playful glimmer dance in my eyes, the alcohol enhancing the seductive atmosphere between us.

"Okay, I’ll bite, but I get to go first," he replies with a mischievous spark. I can’t help but let a soft laugh escape my lips.

“Fine,” I shrug, my anticipation growing as I lean in slightly, inviting his guess.

“You have a boyfriend. Or a significant other,” he states confidently, raising an eyebrow.

I giggle, the bluntness of his question only adding to the intrigue. “Nope, no boyfriend here.” I lift my glass, letting the rich wine flow over my lips as I take a slow sip.

With an amused nod, he watches me, his smile radiant. “My turn,” I announce, shifting into a more relaxed position, making the moment linger.

“Your tattoo has a special meaning.” I point to the subtle peek of ink just visible on his back.

He glances at where I'm pointing, pulling his shirt down slightly to reveal more of the hidden art. “Of course,” he replies, his confidence shining through. “All my tattoos have a story.”

“All?” I tease, my curiosity piqued.

He bites his lip, teasing me with the thought of dodging my question, but it’s too late for that. He lifts his shirt, revealing a breathtaking view—a chiseled chest adorned with art.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, my gaze fixating on the three delicate paw prints trailing down his shoulder, but it’s the intricate compass that captivates me most. “What’s the story behind it?” I challenge.

“That’s another question,” he replies, turning to hold my gaze.

“Had to try,” I smirk, reveling in the tension hanging thick in the air.

“It’s not just about the story,” he says, searching my eyes. “It’s about the people it represents—my seven friends. I owe them everything.”

“I’ve always wanted a tattoo,” I muse, my thoughts spilling out, fueled by the warmth of the wine swirling in me.

He turns fully to face me, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine. He slowly reaches out, his fingers brushing against my ankle. “It would look stunning here,” he whispers, tracing along my skin. A flush spreads across my cheeks, and I feel the closeness ignite something primal within me.

For a heartbeat, it feels like the world has paused—our breaths mingling, the air alive with unspoken desire. “The wine is sure affecting you, huh?” he chuckles softly, never breaking that deep eye contact.

“Lightweight,” I tease, biting my lip, the game intensifying. “Do you want to stop?”

“Now that it’s my turn? Not a chance, baby,” he replies, his voice low and teasing.

A desperate want ignites within me, a need that spreads like wildfire, consuming my thoughts. “You’d be bothered if I told you I dream about you,” he confesses, caught in the moment.

A gasp slips from my lips, but truthfully, I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t drink—because I dream about him too. So, I throw back the rest of my wine, not caring about the intoxicating aftermath, only focused on the tension lingering between us.

“My turn,” I start, I set my glass on the table in front of us, and move so I can crawl towards his trembling body, “If I kiss you right now,” I come close to his body, inches away from his lips, my breath coating his skin making goosebumps appear on his muscled arms. “You’ll kiss me back” I bore into his eyes, which are pooling with lust.

A sheer moment of silence fills the room; you can feel the heat of the moment radiating off our skin, until finally, Chan grabs hold of the back of my neck, pulling me to crash against his lips in a hungry kiss.

It's nothing soft, or tender, its starved and greedy. His hands make their way over the sides of my thighs, pulling me across his lap so I can straddle his bulky thighs. Its then that I feel the true effects of the alcohol, his growing bulge poking my dripping core, teasing my entrance for what awaits the evening.

I can feel his bare fingertips trace circles along my skin; his touch is so gentle compared to his kiss. His tongue demands entrance, licking past my lips, making my head spin, and the way he moves his plump lips would make any sensible women drop their panties.

My hands grab hold of his shirt, trying to pry it off, but when I try to disconnect our lips, he just chases my lips, trying to reconnect us. I push his body to the back of the couch and watch as his eyes grow even darker than before. I lick and bite my lower lip and that seems to be the end of the line for Chan; with his big hands, he grabs the underside of my thighs, lifting me up along with himself. He carries me to a secluded room with a massive bed.

He throws me across the mattress, letting my back settle into the cushions, but not for long because within less than a minute, he flips me over like I weigh nothing, and his hands immediately palm my ass. His hands grab the rim of my dress, throwing it over my ass enough where he has access. I fist the sheets and press my thighs together, feeling how much arousal has already pooled in my panties.

Suddenly, I felt Chan’s front press against my back. I don’t know when he did it, but I feel the warmth of his bare chest covering my back. Even through the sheer fabric of the dress, I can feel his warm, bare body. “I can be a gentleman, or I can be a madman. Which do you want?”

His words make me moan, and my mind races with what other man I could see tonight. I think about how Chan could be a gentleman, treating me kindly while he fucks me nice a slow, claiming me like I’m his prey. But then a part of me, a deeper, hornier part of me, the pit of my belly burns with the need to see the madness in Chan. The side of him that shows no bounds, that could fuck me into tomorrow without warning.

“Show me your wild side,” I smirk, letting my body buzz with excitement.

I feel the growl in his chest and pull the fabric from his teeth. His fingers trail up to the zipper of the dress, pulling it all the way down until most of my back shows. I let my arms slip through the holes, and he pulls it down until it's bunched up at my hips.

The next thing he does is tear my panties apart, shredding the garment and tossing it to the side. I squirm in the sheets making him groan as I wiggle my ass in the air.

He palms my ass hard enough that I’m sure it will leave marks in the morning. I can feel his finger tracing along the slit of my glistening pussy, playing with my folds, before finally I feel the stretch of a single girthy finger enter pass my fold. I moan at the feeling of the slight stretch; it's not the burning stretch my body craved, but I’ll take anything at this point.

“Fuck this pussy is so greedy, look at your cunt sucking my finger in” he continues to pump his finger slowly into, spreading my wetness all around my folds, making my body squirm more. He harshly grabs hold of my hip with his other hand, his finger still holding place inside me. “You’ll take what I fucking give you”

His harsh words only send sparks throughout my body, doing nothing but heat up the desire bubbling inside me. “more,” I whine out, rocking my ass against his finger, trying to get more friction.

“More?” he questions, leaning in to kiss my left asscheek. “Say please” he growls against my skin.

“Please”

“Good girl,” without warning, he adds another finger past my folds and starts pumping both with no mercy, making my whole body shake.

I scream as I feel my insides tremble from the cheer power Chan holds in one hand. Its in mere seconds that my body is shaking with my first orgasm of the night, but he doesn’t stop until I’m squirting, making a mess against his skin. I can feel the small feather lgght kiss against my ass, just like before, when he removes his fingers, letting my body squirm as it pleases.

“Your so goddamn beautiful,” he growls. My body flops right side up, letting my back spress against the mattress. But I’m only allowed two breaths before Chan seizes our lips together, his hard member poking in between my thighs.I could sense his growing impatience, the way his teasing touch ignited a fire within me. Yet, beneath that playful exterior, I knew he was battling his own inner turmoil, wrestling with desire and frustration. The tension hung thick in the air, a delicious mix of longing and urgency that only drew us closer.

I slide my hand down to feel the smooth skin of his length and start pumping the coat of precum around his angry tip. He pulls away, but not before biting my lip and sucking in a breath. “Fuck” he breathes.

“Me” I whisper back.

~~~~~

Fuck, you are so tight around him. Even when your dripping cunt soaks him, he still feels your tight grip. Tight enough to feel like a warm vise wrapped around his cock, and oh did it feel good.

He slides his hand to your hip, holding you in place and ensuring you won't squirm away. "Don't tense up, I won't be able to last." He grits out between his teeth.

"I won't," you hiss out as he sinks another inch past your wet folds. "fuck your so big"

Chan couldn't help but puff his chest at your words. "Too big?" Was it wrong that your words turned him on more?

"no. give me more," you moan out.......no, no, it was not.

He wanted to take things slow, inching further into you so you could easily take all of him, but you just haaad to say the magic words.

he ventures in another inch or two and sighs as he hears your moans of approval. then he slips out to the tip, coating himself in your slickness before shunting his hips forward, hitting a deeper part of you that sends you gasping for air.

Fuck, you were so tight. He shut his eyes as he felt you spasming around his length. "m-more," you grunted. Barely holding yourself up.

"you don't know what your asking for"

"yes I do, I can feel you holding back" he knew it too. He wasn't one to brag, but he knew how big he was, and from the way he so badly wanted you, it was taking every bit of willpower in him not to pound into you like some uncaged beast.

"I need to take my time, or else I might hurt you," he breathed out.

"I don't care if it hurts. I need you. Now, please." Your wines were like music to his ears. A hidden melody that he didn't know he needed.

He slowly eased out of your pussy, relishing on how your walls clung to him and how the slickness felt like butter. "fuck I need this pussy" he voiced his thoughts.

"then fucking take it. Claim it. Take me"

That was it. That was the last straw. Chan shifted your angle, taking your arms in his and using it as leverage to fuck into you. Chan's hips snapped forward, meeting your shaking form at tenfold.

all thoughts of what could hurt you were clouded by lust as more wetness coated the space between your bodies. Your hips bucked against his, and meeting his thrust sent shockwaves of more pleasure through you.

It was rough. It was wild. It was precisely what you needed and wanted at the same time. You asked him to claim you, and by goddamn it, he was going to make sure he was imprinted so deep inside you that you couldn't take any cock but his for the rest of your life.

You didn't have to worry about laying any claim on Chan. He was yours even before you started your walks. He was yours when he saw who you are. You already owned him, mind, body, and soul. The cherry on top was that each thrust of his hips sent another moan echoing around the room that tightened your hold on him.

He leaned back just enough to see what he was doing to you. he could see the way his dick disappeared into your tight pussy. "tell me you on the pill," he practically whined.

"yes, don't pull out."

He could feel you tightening around him, and he wasn't far behind. The feeling of his balls fighting the urge to finally release the pent-up tightness became painful.

He let one of your arms go to balance yourself as he snuck in below the both of you and down to pinch your clit between his fingers. That in itself sent you screaming, sobbing, begging, your tight cunt gripping his length so hard he could barely keep thrusting in and out of you.

That was his official undoing. He let go. Unloading inside you and releasing a sigh that sounded like waves crashing on the beach.

He stayed there for a moment, letting both your orgasms settle in before either of you said another word.

Once the heat of the moment settled and he slipped out of you.

he watched his cum drip out, and he won't deny it made his cock twitch.

"Jesus Christ, you should see how beautiful you look right now" he says under his breath.

"I think I'll take your word for it," and just like that, he found your whole body flattened against the bed, basically passed out.

"you okay?" he says, half jokingly, half worried. you just hold up an easy thumbs up before closing your eyes and letting sleep take over.

Chan laughs to himself and carries you to lean against the pillows the right way, and maneuvers you under the covers. He'll clean you up in the morning.

He slips in beside you, giving you a small kiss and whispering goodnight to you. You hum. Content and warm, and drawn to that same warmth, you cuddle up into Chan's side.

"We are going to have so much fun together."

*******

AN: I'm making so many Chan fics lately that I almost feel bad. But if yall want to see a specific member please let me know I'm more than happy to fulfill comments/asks/ etc!! love yall.

p.s/ also I'm not sure if yall know this but I make all the banners on my page including the small ones on my ko-fi. I only say this because I had an ask earlier asking about where I get my banners or where I go to find these photos, the photos I take from google but all the color, wording, fonts, etc I make myself !!

#story #stray kids x reader #smut #stray kids smut #stray kids #skz smut #short story #skz #fem reader #limbo #bang chan #christopher bang #chris bang #bang chan stray kids #bang chan smut #changbin stray kids #chan smut #chan #chan x reader

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childrenofcain-if · 3 days ago

Note

CW: CANNIBALISM

W is just the character who'd go all ride-or-die for us 👁️👁️ I am LOOKING! With all the cannibalism allegation, would they join us if there was a Bones and All AU with MC being an eater? Out of all the ROs, I feel like they're the only one who'd accept us like that from the very beginning

the bullying began so long ago that it felt like cicadas in the summer or the thrum of air conditioning inside your house—always there, always insidious.

W was delicate in ways the world found easy to prey upon, not because they were weak but because they felt too much. it showed in the way their hands trembled when they clenched them, in the tears that gathered in their eyes when the laughter of their tormentors reached their ears.

you had spent years trying to stop it. standing in hallways with your fists balled, staring down cole and his cronies, daring them to come closer. sometimes it worked—your defiance could scatter them like pigeons startled from a rooftop—but only for a time. they always returned, like a bad bout of winter, colder and harsher than before.

cole had always been there—a looming, destructive presence that crushed everything in his path. he was bigger than life, in size and ego, in anger and entitlement, and he flaunted his privilege like no other. his father’s influence whispered behind closed doors, his fists a language of violence that left bruises on W’s ribs and a tremor in their voice.

for years, you had tried to shield W, to draw his fire onto yourself when it became too much. for years, W had endured it.

“i told the principal again,” W had said one day, their voice brittle with exhaustion. “he just gave me that look, you know? the one where you can tell he’s already decided not to care.”

and you did know. you’d seen it before, that glazed-over indifference. cole’s father sat on the school board like some sort of king, his power extending over even the smallest squabbles of the student body. but what felt small to the school was enormous to W.

“i’ll fix it,” you had promised them, even as you didn’t know how.

the solution had come from your father, as many of them did. elias, who rarely spoke in anger but could wield his wealth like a weapon when the moment demanded it.

“i’ll buy the entire damn school board if i have to,” he had said when you told him about the bullying. and elias didn’t make empty threats.

cole was ‘transferred’ soon after, the details vague but the outcome seemed decent. and for a while, it seemed like things might actually change.

but cole wasn’t one to let things go.

W had confessed it in a choked whisper the other day, tears carving clean lines down their dirt-smudged cheeks.

“cole’s still… i think he’s following me,” they had said, their voice shaking like a leaf caught in a gale. “he waits for me after school. he knows where i live.”

you’d felt the familiar heat of anger rising in your chest, your fists clenching as you swore you’d make it stop. but what could you possibly do as a high school junior that your father hadn’t already done?

what could you do to a boy like cole, whose world was built on the certainty that no one would ever truly punish him?

the gas station was quiet, the flickering of the neon lights outside the only sound as you paid for your drink and stepped out into the cooling evening air.

the pavement under your sneakers was warm from the day’s sun. you were halfway down the road, the horizon a bleeding canvas of pink and gold, when you heard the blue corvette pull up beside you.

cole’s voice was a venomous drawl as he grinned wolfishly and got out of his car. “hey there, long time no see.”

you took a step back. “leave me the fuck alone, cole.”

he didn’t. of course he didn’t.

before you could react, his arm snaked around your neck, pulling you into a headlock. his strength was overwhelming, his gym-built muscles like iron bars against your skin.

you struggled, your sneakers scraping against the asphalt as he dragged you, half-choking, toward the cornfield on the side of the road.

panic surged through you, hot and electric. you thrashed against him, clawing at his arm, but it was like fighting a mountain. the stalks of corn closed in around you, their rustling leaves swallowing the sound of your gasps.

the field swallowed you both, its towering stalks turning the world into a maze of green and gold shadows.

you’d never liked cornfields. there was something too perfect, too endless about them, rows upon rows standing like soldiers awaiting orders. today, they were silent. watching. waiting.

you stumbled over uneven ground, your sneakers catching on roots, the dirt kicking up into your face. the air stunk with the green smell of crushed stalks and the faint, acrid sting of gasoline from the vehicles that passed the highway after getting a refill from the nearby gas station.

cole’s arm was an iron band around your neck, cutting off air, and you could feel his sweat slick against your skin. you clawed at his forearm, nails digging deep enough to leave crescents, but he didn’t even flinch. his breathing was heavy, labored, as if he were dragging a bag of stones and not another human being.

“stop struggling,” he growled, voice sounding like gravel scraping against a rusted shovel. “it’s not gonna make this easier for you.”

you didn’t answer. not like you could even if you wanted to. your words would be crushed beneath the weight of his arm, your lungs burning. but even if you could have spoken, you wouldn’t have begged. not to him. not to anyone.

the world narrowed to the two of you, his strength against your will. you twisted your body, kicking at his shin with a desperation that sent a flare of pain up your leg, but he only hissed and tightened his grip.

finally, he shoved you forward, and you fell to your knees, gasping for air, the dirt biting into your palms. you scrambled to your feet, but he was faster, grabbing your shoulder and spinning you around. his face was twisted with rage, lips pulled back in something too animal to be called a smile.

“you think you’re so fucking superior, don’t you?” he snarled. “you and that little freak friend of yours. you think you can ruin my life and just walk away?”

your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, glaring up at him.

“you ruined your own life, cole,” you spat out. “you’ve been a bully since the day you learned how to swing your fists in order to get your way. W’s ten times the person you’ll ever be, and you always picked on them for no reason other than to satisfy your own sick pleasure.”

that struck a nerve. his face twisted, the veins in his neck standing out like cords. he lunged, grabbing the front of your shirt and hauling you up so your faces were inches apart.

“shut your fucking mouth if you know what’s good for you,” he hissed. “you don’t know anything about me.”

“oh, i know enough,” you said, the poison in your voice surprising even yourself. “i know your dad’s been cleaning up your messes for years. must be hard to grow up knowing the only time you feel like a man is when you’re picking on other kids.”

“you don’t know anything,” he repeated, his voice trembling now, not with nervousness, but with something far more dangerous.

and then he was on you, his hands around your throat, squeezing until the world started blurring out. your hands scrabbled at his wrists, but his grip was unrelenting, and the familiar panic clawed its way back up your chest.

the world tilted, the cornfield spinning around you, the green and gold blurring together into something surreal and wrong.

you thought of W then, their tear-streaked face, their voice breaking as they confided in you about anything and everything. you thought of all the times you’d tried to protect them, only to fail. and now, here you were, about to become another one of cole’s victims.

your fingers brushed against something cold and hard— a rock, jagged and solid. you didn’t think. you didn’t have the time to think. your body moved on instinct, your arm swinging wide and bringing the rock down on the side of his head.

the sound was wet and final, a krrack! that seemed to echo through the field, bouncing off the stalks and the sky and the earth itself.

cole froze above you, his hands falling away from your neck, his expression slack, his eyes wide and uncomprehending. for a moment, he was just a boy—a scared sixteen-year-old boy. his mouth opening as if to speak, but no words came out. and then he crumpled, his body hitting the ground beside you with a thud that sent a shudder through your own.

you staggered back, the rock slipping from your fingers. your breath came in shallow gasps, your throat raw and burning. you stared at him, at the way his body lay twisted in the dirt, his eyes staring up at the sky, unblinking.

“cole?” you whispered, your voice breaking. “cole.”

he didn’t move.

it hit you then, a wave of horror so strong it nearly made you yell. you’d killed him. you’d killed cole.

the cornfield was silent, the only sound your ragged breathing and the distant whir of cars passing occasionally on the highway. you were alone, and yet you weren’t. the field was watching, the world was watching, and you could feel their eyes on you, accusing and hungry and unrelenting.

your stomach churned, bile rising in your throat, but you couldn’t look away.

his blood was pooling beneath his head, dark and viscous, soaking into the dirt like ink spilling onto a page. the sight of it did something to you, something primal and terrible, like the tearing of a pomegranate, the way the seeds spilled out, red and glistening, the taste sharp and metallic. you felt that same hunger now, a gnawing ache deep in your chest, as if something inside you had been waiting for this moment, waiting to be fed.

but it wasn’t just hunger. it was revulsion, too, a sickening mix of desire and disgust that made you want to scream, to run, to claw at your own skin until you felt clean again. your hands trembled as you reached out, then pulled back, unsure of what to do, of who you even were anymore.

your hands then reached back out as if making up their minds. you stared, horrified and helpless, as they extended toward cole’s still body, fingers curling into claws. they tore through the fabric of his shirt, breaking the fragile barrier of skin with a wet sound that made bile rise to the back of your throat.

but the bile didn’t come, and neither did the disgust you expected earlier. instead, there was only this strange hunger.

it was euphoric, thrumming through your veins like a song you’d always known but never sung aloud. your fingers plunged deeper, seeking, finding, and ripping. there was no hesitation, no thought. just action. your hands disappeared into the cavity of his chest, the slick warmth of blood coating your skin, your nails scraping against bone.

somewhere, far away, a still-sane part of you screamed to stop, to look away, to do anything but this, but the hunger drowned out everything else.

and then your teeth joined the fray. you didn’t remember when you leaned forward, when your lips pressed to his ruined chest, but suddenly you were biting, tearing, devouring. the first taste was an explosion, the metallic flavor tinged with something indescribably sweet, like burnt sugar at the edges of a flame.

it was ambrosia, a feast fit for gods, and it belonged to you.

you tore through the sinew and tissue with an ease that startled you, your jaw working like it had done this a thousand times before. blood smeared across your face, sticky and warm, running down your chin and pooling in the hollow of your throat.

you didn’t give a shit about it though. all that mattered was the taste, the sensation of this human’s flesh yielding beneath your teeth, the way his ribs opened up like a flower blooming only for you.

his heart was your favourite. you held it in your hands for a moment, its weight startlingly small, before sinking your teeth into the tender muscle. it was softer than you’d expected, almost delicate, and the flavor burst across your tongue like a symphony of everything you’d ever craved but never known how to name. your body sang with it, every nerve alight, every sense in perfect harmony.

cole’s hazel eyes came next. you couldn’t stand their glassy, lifeless stare, the way they seemed to accuse you even in death. they were soft, too, yielding easily beneath your teeth, and though the taste was a little bitter, it was satisfying in a way that you hadn’t expected. you chewed them slowly, the squelch of it audible as you savored each bite until there was nothing left to see, nothing left to judge you.

cole had it coming, hadn’t he? the thought floated to the surface of your mind, tenuous and fragile, as if spoken by someone else entirely. he’d hurt W, tormented them, made their life a living hell. he’d hurt you, too, dragged you into this field with the intent to kill, his hands around your throat and his hatred burning in his eyes.

this was your own kind of justice, wasn’t it?

and yet, as the hunger began to ebb, as the primal urge receded like a tide, the horror set in. you sat back on your heels, your hands and face slick with blood, your stomach churning with the realization of what you’d done.

cole’s body—or what remained of it—lay sprawled before you, unrecognizable, torn apart by your own hands and teeth.

you gagged, your body convulsing with dry retches, but nothing came up. the hunger had consumed everything, left no room for regret or revulsion to expel itself.

you pressed a shaking bloody hand to your chest, feeling the rapid thrum of your heartbeat, and fumbled for your phone with the other.

the screen blurred through tears you hadn’t realized were falling, but you managed to pull up W’s number. your fingers shook so badly you almost dropped the phone as you pressed it to your ear. the dial tone felt endless, every second stretching into eternity, until finally, W’s voice crackled through the speaker.

“hello?” their voice was soft, hesitant, as if they could already sense something was wrong.

“W,” you choked out, your voice barely recognizable. “i n-need you. please. please come.”

“where are you?” their tone shifted instantly, concern overtaking caution. “what happened? are you okay?”

“the cornfield,” you said, your words tumbling out in a rush. “somewhere near the gas station which has the neon signs. cole’s car is there. please, just—just come. i can’t—” your voice broke, a sob escaping before you could stop it.

“hey, hey, it’s okay,” W said quickly, their voice soothing, though you could hear the edge of panic creeping in. “i’m on my way. stay there, okay? don’t move.”

the call ended, and you were left alone again, the silence of the field becoming all too much. you looked down at your hands, at the blood smeared across your skin, the pieces of cole’s flesh that clung to your nails, and your stomach twisted.

you couldn’t move. all you could do was wait, the hunger still lurking at the edges of your mind, a shadow that promised it wasn’t finished with you quite yet.

W gripped the steering wheel tightly, their knuckles pale and fingers trembling as they pushed the old sedan past the speed limit. the engine groaned in protest, but they didn’t care. you were out there, somewhere, and you needed them. that was the only thought that mattered, drowning out the rush of adrenaline, the fear gnawing at the edges of their mind.

their sapphire blue eyes scanned the evening road ahead, headlights cutting through the sudden thick fog that clung to the landscape.

the gas station came into view first, a dimly lit beacon with its neon lights, and then after driving past it for a couple more minutes—there it was. the blue corvette. it gleamed faintly under the flicker of a dying streetlamp, its ostentatious frame a cruel reminder of the boy who’d tormented them for years.

W gulped, their hands briefly tightening on the wheel. a part of them wanted to turn back, to leave cole and everything he represented behind, but they shoved the thought aside. you were out there. you were in danger.

if they were going to be brave for anyone, it would be for you.

they parked a little ways down the road, their chuck taylors almost slipping on the wet asphalt as they stepped out into the night.

the rain had begun to fall in earnest now, a steady drizzle that dampened their hair and clothes within seconds. they wiped their hands against their jeans, steeling themselves, and followed the faint drag marks leading into the cornfield.

the stalks towered over them, swaying in the breeze and slapping against their skin as they pushed through. every creak and rustle was amplified by the silence of the evening, but W ignored it, their focus narrowing to the path ahead.

they could hear something now, soft and broken—your voice. crying.

they quickened their pace, the corn whipping against their face, leaving red welts on their cheeks. each step brought new fear, new scenarios conjured by their racing mind. what if cole had hurt you? what if he’d dragged you into the field and left you for dead? what if—

but what they found wasn’t what they’d expected.

W froze, their breath catching in their throat as they stumbled into the clearing. you were there, lying in the dirt, your shoulders hunched and shaking as you sobbed. blood covered you—your face, your hands, your clothes—and it didn’t seem to be yours. it stained the earth around you, pooled in dark puddles, smeared across your mouth like some grotesque parody of a smile.

and then there was cole. or what was left of him, to be precise.

his body lay crumpled nearby, torn open, half-eaten. his chest was a ruin of gore, ribs splintered and jutting out like jagged teeth. his face—what remained of it—was twisted in a rictus of terror: lower jaw torn off and missing, ears half-bitten, empty eye sockets.

W’s stomach lurched, bile rising in their throat, but they swallowed it down.

“oh god,” they whispered, their voice barely audible over the sound of the rain.

you looked up then, your bloodstained face contorted with grief and fear.

“elmo,” you choked out, the nickname slipping past your lips like you were five again. “i didn’t mean to. i don’t know what happened. i didn’t—”

W didn’t let you finish. they crossed the distance between you in three long strides, dropping to their knees in the mud. they wrapped their arms around you, pulling you close despite the blood, despite the gore, despite everything.

“it’s okay,” they murmured, their voice shaking but steady enough for your sake. “it’s okay. i’ve got you. you’re okay.”

you sobbed into their shoulder, your fingers clutching at their shirt as if you could anchor yourself to them, as if they were the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.

“i didn’t want to,” you whispered. “i didn’t want to do this. it wasn’t my fault.”

“i know,” W said, even as their mind reeled. they couldn’t stop staring at cole’s body, at the brutality you’d left behind, but they forced the thoughts away. you needed them right now, and that was all that mattered.

the rain had begun to fall harder, washing away the blood from your skin and theirs, mixing it with the mud beneath you. W gently cupped your face, their thumb brushing away the streaks of red that the rain hadn’t reached.

“listen to me,” they said, their tone firmer now. you’d never seen them so serious and determined. “you’re coming home with me, okay? my aunt and uncle are out of town. we’ll get you cleaned up, and we’ll figure out what to do next. together.”

you nodded, your eyes wide and glassy, like a child’s. “what about…” you trailed off, glancing at cole’s body, your expression crumpling with fresh grief.

W followed your gaze, their stomach twisting.

“it looks like an animal attack,” they said slowly, the words tasting foreign in their mouth. “there are wolves out here. bears, too. we’ll let the rain do the rest. nobody has to know.”

you nodded again, but your hands still trembled as you tried to wipe the blood from them. W reached into their pocket, pulling out a handkerchief, and started cleaning your face as best they could. the fabric turned red almost instantly, but they didn’t stop until most of the blood was gone.

the rain was on your side, washing away the rest—your footprints, the drag marks, the blood trail leading to the clearing. W pulled you to your feet, steadying you as you swayed, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

they led you back to the car, their mind racing. they weren’t sure what to think, what to feel.

cole was dead, and a part of them—a small, shameful part—felt relief. he couldn’t hurt them anymore. he couldn’t hurt you. but the sight of you covered in blood, the memory of his mangled body… it would stay with them forever.

for now, though, they pushed it all aside. they focused on getting you to the car, on getting you home, on making sure you were okay. the rest could wait.

the rest would have to wait.

#well...#i think i cooked too much here #W is 100% gonna match MC’s freak tho 👀#‘bones and all’ is one of my fav movies ever so i got too excited with the prompt #um part 2 anyone?#also lemme know if i should tone down on the gore 💀#tw: cannibalism #cw: cannibalism #cw: gore #if: the ballad of the young gods #interactive fiction #interactive novel #interactive story #twine wip #ro: w ostendorf #ro scenarios

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kaisaerinlover · 3 days ago

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Hello! Your stories about big bro sae and rin are so so good and u're doing amazing btw. I was just wondering if we can get a lil bit of a backstory about when it all started, I'm actually really curious about it but no pressure tho u don't need to make it if u don't want to. Anyways I love your lil series about them🫶🥰

hi yes ofc!!!

tw: incest , darkcon

sae and rin always loved you as kids, but they also neglected you alot because you were the youngest itoshi. you’re 3 years younger than sae and 1 year younger than rin and also since you’re the only girl you weren’t really into football as much. they kind of ignored you a lot for football but they did love you. your parents paid more attention to your brothers than you because of their talents in football; also because rin was a bit badly behaved and destructive as a child, so he needed extra attention paid to him, but they didn’t ever teach the itoshi brothers about girls etc because they didn’t really have to. both brothers were only preoccupied with football, their parents were preoccupied with them and that just left the third forgotten daughter.

i think that they wanted three sons, so they gave up after they got a daughter as to not risk it, and as rin and sae grew up they really loathed that there wasn’t a third sibling who could also play soccer; so you were neglected.

probably rin and sae would have developed their weird love/attraction to you when they started going through puberty, because they didn’t really want to be around girls that much; you were the only girl either brother really ever interacted with. and they didn’t have much concept of social norms since they were so invested in soccer their whole lives; so by the time they actually learned it’s wrong they simply didn’t care anymore because their feelings were far too strong to deny. in spain as he got older, and the visits got fewer, sae would be sure to snap a few pics of you, or touch you a bit more than how a brother should his sister, and he would jerk off to it later on. his visits were sparse so he valued all of the time he spent with you, he doesn’t exactly remember when he started realising his feelings but he remembered one incident in specific when you were eating dinner at the table with your parents and rin too and he realised how much you really grew into yourself, you were beautiful. the same lashes as his but they make you look like a princess.

he didn’t fail to notice the way you and rin looked at each other too, the way rin was so… different? the way rin’s hand was on your thigh. the three of you aren’t even sure if your parents know, sae thinks they do know; thinks they don’t care as long as the youngest has a use which helps the two they actually care about excel in their sport.

rin’s attachment to you started after sae left to go to spain, as he grew up and you a little too, he realised you’re all he had left. he grew so attached to you and it turned into a deep attraction which you obviously shared. you loved both of your brothers and being a bit naive and more sheltered, you were less in tune with social norms. you really just went along with what rin wanted. rin never took any interest in other girls before (similarly to sae) and you were the only girl in his life who held any value to him. but nothing really happened yet, you just knew his feelings towards you and returned them graciously. but everything had changed when sae came back on that one particular occasion. it was the very first time he visited from spain, and rin saw the way sae eyed you up. they both felt the same way; rin harboured resentment towards sae so naturally he didn’t like it. he squeezed your thigh in a manner so crude, so unlike him. he wanted to show sae who really owned you.

and that’s how the weird rivalry started, that night, your brothers took your firsts. rin didn’t kiss you before, not properly anyway. sae was in spain by the time he realised his growing affections (and arousal) towards you, so he never got the chance. both of your brothers took all of your firsts. they were really in such a weird competition for you. it would be difficult though because when sae was in spain you tried to text him and call every day, and he indulged you when he could, but you would spend most of your time with rin. so rin and you were attached at the hip for the most part, but then sae would come back and you would cling to him because he would have been gone for so long.

but then rin left you too for blue lock, and they both stopped texting you as much, so then all you could do is watch your brothers play on the tv; the only boys you’ve ever loved; and you were alone at home with nothing. but they came back for you eventually, both did, and that’s how your love evened out a lot kinda. you love them both the same and they’re in their weird rivalry for you. it’s a really weird dynamic but that’s where you would be at right now.

it would honestly start because you guys just lacked supervision and actual attention from your parents. and because they prioritised your brothers over you and didn’t really deem you as their child, just an extension of rin and sae, that’s why if they are aware of anything going on between the three of you they don’t care. rin and sae can do what they want with you because they barely care at all, if it helps them in football and helps them relieve stress so be it. your parents know you’re a good girl (not in a weird way) anyway, and you wouldn’t distract rin and sae from their careers the way they can’t guarantee a girlfriend wouldn’t do either.

rin and sae are really both just perverts in disguise who love their sister far more than they could ever love any girl else. sae would literally steal ur panties whilst he was in spain just to jerk off into them, rin took 3 pairs with him to blue lock as well. they may have left you but the fruits of their hard work were so sweet in the end because now you are showered and pampered in affection every day by them, and their wealth means nothing to them, only if it can buy you a nice gift you like.

they’re just really fucked in the head perverts, and they had eyes for you since you were the only other girl in their life. but they do love you, they love you so much so don’t ever doubt it.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x y/n #dark content #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader

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mermaidgirl30 · 14 hours ago

Text

✨Saving What Was Lost Part 7: Your Hand In Mine✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: Get ready to meet soft, angsty Joel in this chapter. I would like to give him a big hug 🥺

Chapter Summary: Your first day of therapy is a little scary, but Joel helps you through it.

Rating: 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 4.7k

Chapter Tags: Soft! Joel, so much angst, yearning, reader goes to therapy, dual POV, age gap (reader late 20’s, Joel late 40’s), mentions of violence and kidnapping, grief

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

“You nervous?” Joel asks from the driver’s seat, hands locked around the leather steering wheel.

You nod while your hands fidget with your leggings. “Mmm, a little.” But a little’s a lie. You’re downright terrified. You’ve never been to therapy, never talked about yourself before like that. Well, Joel was the closest. You’ve talked to him, and you’re oddly comfortable with that now. But other than that? You haven’t done this.

He must see the lie on your worried face and the terror ringing through your wide eyes. Giving you a gentle smile, he turns his focus back to the road ahead that’s shrouded in mist from the December rain. “Don’t be. Tess is great. You’re going to be great, sweetheart. I know it’s scary, but just know you’re taking that first step into the unknown. That first step of healing, and you’re going to do so well. I jus’ know it.”

He’s always so supportive, so gentle, so easy with you. It makes your heart clench, makes it beat a little more just for him.

You take a good look at him. Watch as he cards a hand back through his tousled curls, watch as his green flannel clings to his flexed biceps, watch as that easy smile melts across his plush mouth. He’s just so nice to watch, so easy to keep your eyes trained on.

Darting your tongue across your bottom lip, you tilt your head toward him and give him an easy smile. “You’re always so sure about me.”

“Yeah, guess I am.” He turns his head toward you and gives you a heart-stopping smile. “I guess I see all the potential in those pretty eyes of yours.”

Your mouth parts, cheeks redden as you repeat that sentence over in your mind. He thinks you have pretty eyes. He’s always so sure of you.

Turning back toward the fogged-up passenger window, you lean against the door and smile. A smile that’s bigger than you’ve ever smiled before. You’re completely smitten by the handsome Texas man with big brown eyes. And he’s just continuing to show you how much life is worth living. Telling you how far he thinks you’ll go. But you don’t want to go far in distance. No. You just want to stay right here beside him. You think you’d follow him anywhere.

When he stops at a red light, you brave another stare at him and smile like your whole heart is right there in his eyes. “Thanks for seeing the potential in me.”

One side of his mouth curls up into a crooked smile, and his cinnamon-brown eyes sparkle against the windshield. “You’re so welcome, sweetheart.”

When you catch your breath from melting, you ask, “Sarah said you see Tess, too?”

He nods as the truck’s engine revs to life again. “She’s right. See her every couple of weeks or so. She’s patient and understanding and she really helps, I think. Helps when the nights get a little too dark for me.”

The way he says the last sentence, his low voice sounds a little weary like maybe he fights the nights as much as you do. And you don’t miss the flinch in his right eye or the way his hand tightens on the steering wheel. He must get them too. The nightmares that haunt your dreams every few nights. You wish you could just scoop them up, replace them with dreams of ocean tides or snowy mountains filled with deep green trees. You wish you could take away his pain, whatever’s hurting him so deeply. He hides it well—the pain. But sometimes it creeps up on him, and it spills in different shades across his shadows that slip in his brown eyes. That’s something you don’t miss.

Steady rain pelts against the windows, making the few trees in the distance look like monsters with tangled vines draping low to the ground. You flick your gaze back to Joel in the driver’s seat and another slow smile brushes against your lips. “Thanks again for driving me.”

“It ain’t no trouble, sweetheart. I’ll drive you till you don’t need me to.”

Another skipped heartbeat, another butterfly flitting through your stomach. The man is so sweet.

Biting your lower lip, you brave a question, mildly testing the waters. “What if I always need you to?” It comes out quiet, but not so quiet that he doesn’t hear you.

He slows to a halt at a stop sign and turns to face you, eyes sparkling with promises. “Then I’ll be there every single time you need me.”

“Promise?”

Another smile. “Cross my heart.” He folds a hand over his chest, promising once again.

You giggle under your breath, your eyes never leaving his. “Well, looks like I can trust you then.”

“You can always trust me, sweetheart.” And he means it. You can always trust him, and you know that. God, you know that.

When the tires start spinning again on the damp pavement and the low sounds of an old Western song plays through the speakers, he clears his throat and speaks. “It’s gonna be a late night for me.”

You flip your eyes back to him and give him a worried stare. “Do you have to go somewhere?” You already know what that means. He’s got an important job to do. One where he might be gone all night, maybe till morning.

He nods subtly. “Got an important run I gotta do with Tommy. So I might not be home till mornin’…” His voice cuts off. He knows you hate it when he’s away so long.

“Gone the whole night?” Your voice is a meek whisper because you’re afraid what his answer will be.

He’s silent a beat. “Afraid so, but hopefully that ain’t the case. But still, even if I am back earlier, it’ll be well after two o’clock in the mornin’.”

Your stomach churns just thinking about it. When he’s not across the hall when you’re sleeping, when he’s not just mere feet apart from you, it’s like something’s missing. There’s a void in the pit of your stomach, and you can’t seem to unravel that feeling till he’s in your space again. “I hate when you’re gone all night…” Your words falter, they break like your voice shakes.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” His right hand drops to the center console, just inches from yours. He seems conflicted, seems like he wants to reach out and graze his calloused skin against yours, but he doesn’t. But he’s trying. He’s still hesitant to touch you because you’re still so unsure of touch. He doesn’t want to scare you, and you know that. He’s just being careful. And maybe you’re still scared of physical touch, but his touch? That warm, gentle, soft graze he sometimes gives you. Well, it feels like sunlight skimming over you.

Carefully, you move your fingers in his direction. Just enough where you can feel the heat of his skin. You don’t touch him, not quite. But this is enough. This is your middle ground. “I umm… I worry about you at night when you’re not home. I’m always scared that… that...” You can’t even speak it out loud. You’re scared he won’t come back one night. And you can’t bear the thought of that.

His brown eyes soften. “I’ll be alright, sweetheart. I’ll come back. I can promise you that.” You give him a small smile and nod, keeping your fingers right by his just so you can feel the heat cover your own skin.

Physical contact is still something you’re struggling with, but you think Joel understands that. And he does. Always so careful around you. Never one to put you in an uncomfortable situation because he does understand your situation. He knows exactly what you’ve been through, and he wouldn’t dare make the wrong move because he doesn’t want to scare you. And you appreciate that. You appreciate him. So this is enough. Right now in this truck—hands centimeters apart, heat gliding over your fingers, a whispered promise that he’s going to take care of you.

Yes. This is enough.

After a few more minutes, Joel’s pulling into a little parking lot, right in front of a tiny building with a lit-up white sign that says "Essence of Healing.” Your heart starts beating faster, your breath tightening in your chest as your eyes scan the brightly-lit sign. “Well, here we are. You ready?” He turns off the ignition and pulls the key out, his brown eyes flitting over to you.

You swallow once and nod, an array of emotions spinning in your head. “Yeah, I think so,” you breathe out as calmly as you can.

He gives you an encouraging smile and pushes the door open. “C’mon, then.” You open the passenger door slowly and close it with a bang, your knees shaky, legs wobbly with every step you take toward the door.

This is it. You’re actually going to talk to a therapist for the first time in your life. What if you’re not ready, what if you choke, what if you burst out into tears and can’t sputter words from your choked-up throat? These are all valid questions, ones you never really considered, but you’re here. You have to do this. You have to do it for yourself. You owe that much to yourself. You are worth it.

When Joel goes up to the front desk with you, the one covered in green succulents and a calming, trickling desk fountain running the corner, you collect all the paperwork you need to fill out and in exchange give her your photo ID. Joel was kind enough to go with you to get a new one since your old one was lost somewhere in Washington. As for health insurance, Joel was paying out of pocket for you to be seen. But he promised he was working to get you on your own health insurance plan. You still don’t know why he’s being so nice to you, but without him, you’d probably be dead by now…

After a few minutes of fighting with the paperwork and scribbling out wrong information, you’re about to break out in tears. They’re swelling in the backs of your eyes, making your lips quiver and the words blur on the page.

“Hey. You’re alright,” Joel coos, taking the pen from your shaky hand. “Let me help.” And you do let him. He fills out the questions you couldn’t answer yourself—his home address, your phone number you still haven’t memorized, emergency contact information, insurance details, even going as far as helping you fill out medical questions you’re having trouble with.

As you look up at him all focused and intent on getting your paperwork done, a little spark sizzles in your chest. You study him—eyes glued to the page, jaw flexed as his rapt attention is on each question, tousled curls a little disheveled as he cards his fingers attentively while he thumbs through the pages. You’re a little mesmerized, a little surprised he didn’t just leave you to shovel through the numerous papers. Instead, he chose to stay right by your side, saving you from breaking down from the weight of so many unknowns.

You’re scared, a little overwhelmed, a little more nervous than you’d like to be. But with Joel, it seems like you can get through anything.

When the paperwork is all completed and he’s back at your side, waiting patiently for them to call you back, you feel a little better—like you can do anything if he’s there next to you. Call him your knight in shining armor, but he truly is. He keeps saving you, and you hope he’ll never stop.

The nervous jitters start up again when you glance up at the clock. Five till noon, right when your appointment is supposed to be. Your knee is bouncing up and down in tandem with your flexed fingers against your leggings. Fear trickles down your spine, slides into the deepest parts of your veins. And suddenly, you’re downright terrified.

You’re about to get up, run out the door, but Joel senses your worry. He slides the back of his hand against yours, brushing your skin gently, a way to say ‘Hey, I’m right here.’ And when you look up and see those big brown eyes gazing softly down at you, you instantly quiet down inside. Your knee stops bouncing, and you’re left with this overwhelming peace that seems to radiate through every part of your body. Like a quiet forest that soothes your soul, that’s what Joel does to you. He makes everything else around you so still, so quiet.

When you’re about to say something to break the trance you’re in, you faintly hear your name being called from the open office door.

You sit up straight and look toward the door, up at the woman that just called your name. “That’s me,” you call out with a shaky voice.

“Ahh. There you are.” She strides up to you and holds her hand out. You slowly take it. She has long light brown hair, strong cheekbones, welcoming hazel eyes, and a smile that instantly soothes you. “I’m Tess, by the way. It’s so good to meet you. This one’s told me a lot about you.” She flicks her eyes to Joel.

When you take her hand, it’s warm. “It’s nice to meet you, Tess. And of course he has.”

Joel shakes his head and lets a low chuckle leave his lips. “Guilty as charged.”

“You got lucky with this one. He’s one of the good ones,” Tess nods as your hands disconnect.

“He is…” you repeat back, getting lost just for a second in his syrupy brown eyes. He seems to get lost in yours too.

“You ready?” Tess asks.

“Oh, uhh. Yeah.” You take a second to push yourself up off the cushioned leather chair, let your legs stop wobbling beneath you.

When you’re just about to follow her back, Joel’s low voice serenades your ears. “I’ll be right here waitin’. You’re gonna do great, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Joel.” You give him a lasting smile, until Tess beckons you back to her office.

“Come on. This way.”

With one last glance his way, you watch the front office door shut and what awaits you is a long hallway with mint-green wallpaper. Pictures of oceans, fields of wildflowers, and open spaces fill the painted walls. A small white table sits in the middle of the hall with multi-colored flowers hanging over the table that are tucked inside a cream-colored pot.

When you make it to the fourth door on the left, Tess nods inside and lets you go first. “Welcome to my office. Hope it’s cozy enough for you.”

Gasping, you take in her array of rocks and seashells on her back wall. Dozens of colorful shapes and sizes fill the expanse of it. But what really catches your attention is all the little sand dollars spread out by her computer monitor. Her walls are almost the color of sunlight, and she’s got a massive portrait of a west coast beach framed with love behind her desk chair. A white leather couch sits right across from her mahogany desk, and the scent of soothing lavender fills the air.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper, amazed by all the decorative details of her office. It’s so inviting and welcoming. It instantly calms you down.

“Glad you like it,” she smiles. “Well, have a seat. Get comfortable.” You comply as she gets situated in her chair and pulls up your paperwork. Sifting through it for a minute, she looks up at you with a bright smile lit across her face. “So. This is your first session, is that correct?”

“Yeah. I… I’ve never done this before,” you answer honestly, a little scared of what she might say, but she only gives you another encouraging smile.

“Well, you came to the right place then. We’re just going to take this slow, take it one session at a time. Healing is a journey. There’s no one single path to it. We’ll do what works for you, what you’re comfortable with. That sound okay to you?”

“Mhm,” you nod with your hands clasped tightly in your lap. You’re so fucking nervous, but this is normal, right? Everyone is scared of something they’ve never done before. But this? It seems like all your secrets will surely be unmasked, and that terrifies you. Sharing your past—what happened to you—isn’t going to be easy. Not one bit.

“I can see you’re scared, but you don’t have to be. This is a safe space. You can talk to me about anything. It’s all confidential. Nothing you say goes out that door.”

Your eyes flit to the closed oak door, and you nod in acknowledgment. “Right… Okay.”

She scoots back and crosses one leg over her knee, leaving the open papers splayed on her desk. All attention is on you now. “How about we start from the beginning. Before… before you were taken. Maybe start with your childhood?”

“Oh… I… Well, that’s a lot to tell,” you gulp out nervously. Your childhood trauma is a whole other monster you still haven’t tackled.

She smiles. “We’ve got an entire hour today. And if you come back, we’ll have many more sessions to unravel your past.”

You bite your bottom lip and nod, your nerves getting the best of you, but you push through. “Okay…” You take a deep breath and dive in head first. “Here goes nothing.”

Four o’clock flashes like an alarm on the oven clock, telling him he’s been gone for hours, but really, it feels like it’s been days. He reaches for the open whiskey bottle and pours the amber liquid over the square ice cubes in the glass. Every drop looks like the trickles of fresh blood that’s stained his flannel permanently. He should’ve fucking known tonight was not the night to wear nice flannels.

He scuffs his leather boots against the hardwood floor, dragging his tired legs from the kitchen to the living room, till he’s collapsed in a heap on the leather couch—one hand curled around the cold glass, the other raking down his face excruciatingly slow.

He failed. He was too late. Just minutes from being on time. Maybe he could’ve saved her. Saved that innocent little girl from her executioners. But he couldn’t…

As he closes his eyes, he sees the flash of red covering the dark walls, serenading the lace of her pink dress. Eleven-years-old, just shy of turning twelve, a daughter that’ll never be able to return home to a worried mother and father.

He curses under his breath, feels the tears pour like droplets of water down his cheek. She didn’t deserve to die, didn’t deserve to be scared and all alone. He was supposed to save her, was supposed to get her out. That was his mission, and he fucking failed.

Three minutes. He was just three fucking minutes shy of saving her life, but he was too late. He misjudged the distance, didn’t realize the captors were early to their destination. He got there right after they smothered her—silencing her terrified screams forever. He can still hear them like shrill sirens blasting through the base of that rundown building. This isn’t the first time he’s been too late, but God. This one hurts like hell because it reminds him of someone he lost along the way. Someone he loved just as much as Sarah.

And so, he did what he did best. He took them out—all the men that had hurt her. Thankfully, he took backup, including Tommy. He smothered their screams, pushed daggers into their throats, shot them dead in a frenzy of rage while his teeth were clenched and eyes were fogged with held-in tears. When he looked at that poor, lost girl—it nearly took him to his knees. Those eyes. Those same lifeless hazel eyes that still haunt his dreams to this day. They were the same shade as hers… The little girl that forever changed his life. The one that he wishes was still here…

Ellie… That little girl tonight looked just like his lost daughter—the one he saved all those years ago. But he never fully saved her. Not after… not when he let her go…

A wave of emotions floods through his chest as he takes another stiff drink of alcohol, letting the whiskey burn through him while visions of hazel eyes and crimson fill his foggy mind.

He was too late. He fucked up. He misjudged the minute hand from the second hand. Time slipped away from him. And before he knew it, everything he planned for was lost to the eerie night. Instead, it ended in bloodshed and turmoil. He hates it. Hates when things have to get extremely violet, but what choice did he have? He had to take them out because they stole an innocent life—a life he was supposed to keep safe.

He’s so lost in the crimson-stained memories in his mind that he almost misses that small, meek voice of yours. “Joel?”

When he opens his eyes, a part of his soul shatters. There you are, a plush blanket wrapped around your shoulders, heartbreaking eyes shining over to him from the staircase. You take in his half-drank glass of whiskey and the dried tears that stain his cheeks. But also, you see the faint crimson that tarnishes his flannel shirt.

Blood. There was so much blood… like a liquid pool of death.

He adjusts his back against the leather cushion and sits up a little straighter, just so he looks less worn down and broken than he already is. You see right through him though. You always do. “Sweetheart, it’s late. Why don’t you…”

“Are you… okay?” Your voice whispers across the room, silences the crackling embers in the fireplace. Your voice… it sounds broken too.

“I, uhh. Jus’ please, go back to sleep.” He tries to push you away, tries to get you to return to your room so he can sulk in peace. He doesn’t want you to see him like this. Doesn’t want you to see just how physically and mentally defeated he actually is. He’s not as strong as you think he is. He’s fragile, grainy sand that gets blown away by the wind. He’s not rock-solid; he’s quicksand.

You slide into the seat next to him, close enough where your knee could brush against his. “I’m not leaving you.” There’s finality in your tone, still soft but firm on your decision. And there’s those eyes. Those fucking beautiful eyes that could silence all the built-up pain he has piled on his heart.

You’re so fucking beautiful.

“Are you hurt?” You ghost your hand across the leather, reaching out just enough where he feels the heat of your skin. It soothes him over just a tad, but nothing can quite wipe away the excruciating weight of agony he’s carrying now.

“No. I’m jus’… I’m so tired.” He pinches his eyes closed and takes a deep breath, his hand clutching the cool glass of whiskey like it’s his lifeline. “This job weighs on me like solid concrete. Some nights are so fuckin’ hard. Some nights jus’…” He pauses, takes a deep breath in and blows another out. He can’t finish. He’s too tired, too strained from the past few hours, months, years.

He’s so fucking tired; he just needs some rest, some peace, some symbolism that he knows he’ll get to the finish line. But he’s been so struck down ever since he met that certain hazel-eyed little girl. Ellie. His little girl…

“What happened tonight?” Your voice comes off as a whisper. Maybe you’re just as scared to hear what he has to say.

He taps the edge of his thumb against the solid glass and takes a deep breath. “We uhh… I lost her. Her name… her name was Abigail. Just a little eleven-year-old, and I was supposed to save her, to get her back to her parents. But I… I was too late. I was too fuckin’ late.” There it is. The pen drops, another tear splashes down his stained flannel, and he’s lost to grief again.

You pause a beat, but you gasp loud enough for him to hear the horror in your voice. He’s a failure. You must think he’s such a failure. “Joel… I’m so… God. I’m so sorry.” There’s only sorrow in your lilty voice, no anger or resentment that he failed yet another soul. You’re just as sad as him, he thinks.

“I failed her… I failed everyone…” He shakes his head, sets his mind a little straighter just so he can grit the words out. “Sometimes I feel like none of this is worth it, like I don’t make a difference. Because when this happens, it makes me feel like I’m already six feet underground.”

“Oh, Joel. No.” He feels it—the couch creak beneath him, the weight of your body sliding over, your hand inching closer to his. “You save so many lives. You make every bit of difference. You change lives.” There’s so much assurance in your voice; you’re trying to soothe him over.

He snaps his eyes shut and shakes his head, anything to stop the burning sensation in his watery eyes. Maybe if he doesn’t blink then he won’t feel the pain of this gut-wrenching moment. “But I… I couldn’t save her… I couldn’t save…”

Ellie…

With his eyes still shut tight, he feels warmth wrap around his hand, feels the soft caress of your skin. And when he opens his eyes wide, he sees the most beautiful shades of softness gleaming from your pretty eyes.

“You saved me. And that… that means everything to me. You saved me. You saved your daughter. You saved so many lives. You are a hero, and don’t you dare think otherwise. Not for one second.” There’s tears licking your lash line, the most sincere look over your pretty face. A desperate plea to get through to him. And in that moment, he believes you for a second. Believes that he is a hero, even when he doesn’t believe it himself.

His bottom lip trembles as tears gather in his watery eyes. Something hits him deep in the gut. Longing, the fear of losing you, and an all-consuming wave of tender emotions. He sees you. He really sees you. Such a beautiful soul. Such a lovely, amazing woman. To think he almost didn’t go to that auction, almost wasn’t able to save you. What would he do if he never found you? It stings to even think about. Because you… Well, you’re everything all at once. And he’s so fucking soft for you.

Carefully, softly, he laces his fingers through yours, holds on for dear life, praying you never let go.

Don’t let go. Never let go.

Your hand is a perfect fit for his. Every line, edge, dip carved specially for his hand to fit in. The weave of your fingers against his, the light brush of your skin, the heat that spirals into complete warmness when your skin slips against his—you were fucking made for him, just as he was for you, he thinks. Because when your bright eyes and soft smile are in his presence, he sees pure sunlight, sees the pure angelic essence you’re bathed in.

He was made to find you. This much he knows. And whether you choose to stay or go—he’ll have this moment to hold on to. Because he got you once. Your hand in his. This right here is everything he’s ever needed. It may just be your hand brushing against his, your fingers intertwined together, but it feels like home. You feel like home.

So, he lets the soft rain pelt outside against the living room windows, lets the dying fire crackle and pop in the fireplace, and savors the feel of your honey-like soft skin sliding against his. And he stays there for several minutes, maybe an hour, and there’s only silence shrouding the room. But your touch? It screams volumes, makes him feel human again.

For a breath of a moment, you’re his.

Texas rain was a rare phenomenon. Misty showers only a once in a while type thing. But you? You made it pour, made the flood waters wash clear through Austin. He didn’t see it coming, didn’t expect anything like you. But it sure as hell knocked him clear off his feet when you bathed him in your electric thunderstorms.

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azzifuddfanpage · 17 hours ago

Text

All I want for Christmas is You

Thanks for the prompt 😛 2.1k words

themes: Christmas? Idk

tw: smut

prompt: This is around now/ them being in a relationship. The wholes team is kinda sulky and grey after losing USC even thought it’s almost Christmas. They are all just chilling in the dorms, playing video games, chatting, and packing up for the break. Azzi decides to surprise Paige with an earlier Christmas gift. She calls her over and reveals her festive lingerie. Paige is obviously gooning and immediately shuts the door. (go all out with the scene I didn’t have any l ideas 💀)After a while they realize they went a little crazy and are defiantly gonna have to wash themselves up… and the sheets. “Paige why are you cleaning the sheets right before your leaving for home?”- a teammate asks. -😛

The entire media conference after the game was brutal. Paige sat there and was professional but wanted nothing more than to wrap herself up in Azzi’s arms.

After 3 years of dating, they had been closer than ever. Azzi was the only one who knew how to make her feel better-way better- after a loss.

When they were back in the dorms, everyone was just chilling in the living room of the suite.

Paige sat with Ice and Kk playing fortnite trying to get her mind off of the loss.

Paige was one to take the loss personally so she would do everything she could to get her mind off of it.

“Hey do you know where Azzi is?” Paige asked as she went for another kill.

“She’s still with the trainer.” Ice replied shortly as she continued fiddling with the remote. Distracted, paige handed off the remote to sarah who happily took over for her.

Paige missed Azzi, bad, the longer they had been dating the more needy Paige had found herself for her.

Paige slumped onto the couch behind them facing Azzi’s bedroom door, and pulled out her phone.

—-

Me: wya I miss u😕

💗: I’m at the trainer I’ll be home soon Paigey

Me: 😐

💗: it will be worth the wait trust me I have a surprise for u

Ur gonna like it a lot trust me….

—-

It looked like the day was gonna be looking up.

30 minutes later, the front door opened and Paige immediately whipped her head around to make eyes with Azzi.

Paige immediately stood up and ran to Azzi wrapping her arms around her waist tightly and snuggling into the crook of her neck.

“Missed you so much baby.” She said as she breathed in the smell of her coconut shampoo and vanilla perfume.

Paige looked down and saw Azzi was carrying a black and pink bag. Her eyes perked up.

“Is that what I think it is?” Paige whispered teasingly while attaching her lips to Azzi’s neck making her giggle.

“Maybe… but you’re gonna have to wait a few minutes so I can get your present all set up.” Azzi responded moving her hand up to play with paige’s blonde hair that had fallen into her face as she clung to her.

“Present? What for?” Paige said eagerly trying to snoop in the bag.

“Paige! Be patient, no peaking. It’s just an early Christmas gift. Just stay here and I will call you in when I’m ready.” Azzi replied pulling away from paige and walking to the bedroom.

Paige smirked and walked over to the couch as she watched Azzi walk into the bedroom.

Paige spread her legs a little as Azzi turned around watching as Azzi blushed her eyes darting to her clothed center.

Azzi then put a finger to her lips and disappeared into her bedroom.

Paige felt her panties dampen in anticipation on what Azzi had planned for her.

The longer Azzi took the more needy she became.

10 long minutes later she heard Azzi call out.

“Paige can you come help me in here?” Paige bolted up and brusquely but nonchalantly (or so she thought) to Azzi’s room.

“Fuck guess I need to grab my headphone” ice said laughing as Paige shut Azzi’s door behind her. They weren’t exactly quiet.

Inside Azzi’s room paige walked in to the bed and felt two hands creep around the back of her head covering her eyes.

“Guess who” Azzi smirked behind her

“Hmmm I don’t know Q?” Paige said teasingly.

“Alright you’re not getting your present after that one.” Azzi laughed as paige hungrily turned around.

“Where is it?” Paige said as she looked at Azzi who was wearing her pink fluffy robe.

“Get on the bed and I’ll show you.” Azzi said dominantly giving her a shove so she would fall backwards.

Paige crawled up to the headboard and turned around so she was facing Azzi watching her in awe.

Azzi slowly reached for the tie of her robe and began to undo the knot.

Paige felt her breath hitch as she watched the pink fluffy robe slide down Azzi’s shoulders and drop onto the floor.

Paiges eyes scanned Azzi’s body in adoration.

She was weary a silver and red lingerie set that was lacy and completely mesh.

Paige thought her eyes were going to bulge out of her head at the sight of Azzi’s perky nipples poking through the thin shear fabric.

Suddenly paige found herself extremely needy for Azzi’s touch.

“You’re so beautiful Azzi.” Paige said her eyes continuing to stare at her body.

Azzi smirked as she climbed onto the bed and crawled towards Paige.

Azzi pushes her shoulders so she is now fully laying on her back on the bed.

Azzi sits up staring down on her, straddling her legs.

She leans forward and starts to press soft kisses along her jaw and neck.

“You’re the prettiest girl in the world.” Azzi says in between kisses as Paige lets out a soft sigh.

Azzi moves her hands downwards, lips still connected to Paige’s neck, and tugs on her t shirt.

Paige puts her hands up instinctively and Azzi slides it off her, immediately coming in contact with her soft nipples hardening under Azzi’s gaze.

“Wow no bra? Someone was ready for this, huh?” Azzi laughs as she connects her hands and begins to massage Paige’s chest.

“Wanted to be ready for your surprise.” Paige whispers eagerly as she pulls Azzi’s face in to kiss her.

Paige’s hunger for Azzi’s skin is almost bubbling as she runs her tongue along Azzi’s bottom lip. She attaches her teeth and pulls watching Azzi lean towards her needily, letting out a breathy moan.

Azzi starts to grind her hips against Paige’s pelvis begging for friction.

Azzi leans back placing her hand on Paiges thighs as she arches her back and grinds down on Paige’s thighs.

A groan leaves paige’s mouth as she searches desperately for more contact.

She opens her eyes and watches in aw as Azzi gently grinds back and forth on her.

“Please.” Paige moans noticing the damp spot on Azzi’s panties.

“You need more baby?” Azzi says seductively as she begins to slide down paige’s pants continuing to ride her.

Paige lets out a yelp, biting her lip as Azzi presses her knee against paige’s clit.

“Oh god.” Paige groans as she throws her head back.

Azzi leans forward laying her chest on Paige as she continues to apply pressure on her pussy.

She starts to press kisses against her tits, sucking on her nipples and blowing as she starts to feel the slick accumulate in between them.

Paige moans loudly against Azzi’s chest.

“Shh! Paige you have to be quiet we don’t need anymore complaints.” Azzi teases as paige rolls her eyes.

“Haha very funny, if I remember right it was your screaming that had caroline running in thinking you were dying.” Paige replies still out of breath. Azzi returns the eyeroll and presses her hand against paige’s mouth to shut her up.

Paige spreads her legs wider giving Azzi more access to grind against her.

After what felt like hours of Azzi’s rubbing against her clit paige could barely keep herself together.

“Azzi please” she groaned “need to cum please.”

Azzi giggled to herself at her girlfriend’s fucked out state.

“Look at me baby.” Azzi said dominantly “I want you to watch me while you cum.”

Paiges eyes immediately popped open entranced by Azzi staring directly back at her.

Azzi’s eyes alone were enough to make her cum, and when Azzi started picking up the pace, rubbing herself against paige more aggressively, paige could no longer contain her cum, letting her juices spill out of her and onto the bed sheets as she moaned.

As Azzi continued to grind against her, riding out her high, paige began to rub her fingers teasingly over her panties watching as Azzi’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, already stimulated by her grinding against paige.

Paige watched Azzi intently focused on Azzi’s body.

As paige began to apply more pressure Azzi lifted her hips now hovering over paige’s stomach kneeling so her legs were seperated enough for paige to access her clit.

Azzi let out a raspy moan, and Paige pulled her panties to the side desperately needing to be in contact with her wetness.

Azzi’s warm heat coated her fingers as she rubbed back and forth against her pussy.

Azzi leaned over to stabilize herself as Paige stuffed two fingers inside her tight hole.

Paige began to thrust in and out of her stabilizing her by holding onto her waist.

As she felt Azzi’s legs shake she flipped them over so she was now on top.

With her new angle she pounded furiously into Azzi’s pussy, using her thumb to rub at her clit.

Azzi continued to moan loudly pulling at paige’s hair, thrusting her hips so paige’s fingers would dig deeper in her core.

Paiges fingers plunging into her gummy walls caused Azzi to shake with pleasure.

Hearing Azzi’s frustrated moans as she tried to rub herself against paige’s fingers.

Paige paused, watching as Azzi whimpered and squirmed deserpeate for her fingers to restart their pounding.

Azzi started trying to fuck herself on Paige’s fingers, desperate to reach her climax.

Just as Azzi let out another needy moan, paige plunged another finger in, pounding 3 in and out of her.

Paige uses her other hand to rub her clit, before pressing gently on her lower stomach.

With that Azzi feels the band in her stomach snap, and feels her cum spill out of her joining paige’s on the sheets

They go back and forth pleasing each other until they are just a heap of moans unable to catch their breath.

The sheets are soaked with sweat and their cum.

“Guess we may have over done it.” Azzi laughed her head laying in the sheets.

“Nahh don’t know what you’re talking about.” Paige replied cheekily.

They lay there nuzzled together for a little longer but eventually Azzi could no longer stand it.

“Alright I gotta shower and you have got to wash these sheets like this is just embarrassing I feel like I wet the bed.” Azzi huffed trying to sit up with Paige’s lengthy body weighing her down.

“I mean you kinda did.” Paige said trying to hide her giggle as Azzi glared at her and hitting her over the head with a pillow.

“Says you!” She shot back as she crawled out of paige’s grasp and stood up.

“We are leaving tomorrow morning early, if you don’t wash the sheets now they will be worse when we get back.” Azzi said as paige fell back onto the bed.

“Ughhhh” she whined, “I know I know I have to clean them. But I literally just did like 2 days ago… “ paige whined as she sat back up and grabbed Azzi’s hand.

“I don’t like when you shower without me.” Paige pouted fluttering her eyelashes teasingly.

Azzi shoved her face with her hand laughing, “you’re such a freak paige oh my god.” She pauses for a minute. “If you go clean the sheets we will see what happens.” Azzi says shrugging leaving the room so paige can ponder that.

Paige makes the executive decision it would be a good idea to see where things that night might lead with Azzi so she strips the bed and makes a pile to bring to the laundry.

Paige is fantasizeing about all the things Azzi might have planned since she is being a “good girl” and cleaning the sheets like Azzi asked her, when she hears a knock.

“Back so soon” Paige teases assuming Azzi couldn’t resist her… it was Aubrey.

“Uhm sorry, not who you were hoping, I just had a quick-“ Aubrey looks down at paige piling her sheets into her hamper, “you know what I’m gonna just ask Ice it’s fine.” She trials off. “Why are you washing your sheets paige?” She teases knowing exactly what it means.

“What do you mean? I can’t wash my sheets now?” Paige replied confused.

“You just changed them like two days ago? And we are leaving for vacation it’s not like you will be sleeping on them anytime soon.”

Paige smirked, “well they got dirty quick I guess.”

Aubrey stares at her a little confused then Azzi walks in the room and the pieces click.

Her eyes widen, “y’all are nasty” Aubrey says laughing running out of the room, likely to go tell Ice and Kk.

Azzi looks at Paige confused.

“What did I do?” Azzi says softly her big eyes staring at Paige, and paige can’t help but melt under her adorable eyes.

“She’s just jealous baby don’t worry.” paige says pulling her into a hug and rubbing her hand on her back.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fic #pazzi fics #azzi fudd #paige bueckers

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