#the good news is that summer is almost over and i only have One last big event before free time. then uni starts but

[sl-ut]

the warmth of winter

happy valentine’s day!!! since yall have been dying for this i figured i’d offer up some smut!! enjoyyyyy <3

pairing: cregan stark x fem!targtower!reader, alicent hightower x daughter!reader, cregan stark x monster-in-law!alicent hightower

description: after a long and difficult labour, cregan is eager to spend some time with his wife and their newborn children, but for the warden of the north, duty cannot be put on hold in favour of love.

warnings: smut, rough pregnancy/labour, sexually frustrated reader and cregan, controlling!alicent, swearing, mention of alcohol consumption, potential of all other canon warnings (just to be safe)

words: 6.2K

date posted: 14/02/25

part one

A weight seemed to have been lifted from Cregan’s shoulders with the departure of the queen and her family, slowly lessening his duties more and more as the realm settled into summer and the last of winter’s chill dwindling to little more than an early morning frost. With the transition from winter to summer behind them, Cregan was glad to be able to finally spend some time with his family, especially with the newest additions of the Stark family growing bolder and stronger with every passing day. Life seemed to be almost perfect for the Lord of Winterfell, if only his beloved wife’s mother had not decided to stay until after the birth of her grandchildren.

Cregan was obviously not pleased with this decision, but understood fully well that his wife was thousands of kilometers from her home and it would be very beneficial for her to have this form of familiarity to comfort her while she laboured for the first time. The Dowager Queen was a stern woman, set in her beliefs, and made quite the ruckus when it came to enforcing Southern tradition into her daughter’s routine. Lady Stark was rather passive when these issues came about; on one hand, she understood her mother’s desire to teach her these womanly practices, to follow the routines that she would have so many years ago; on the other, the practice of these Northern customs brought her a sense of connection to both her children’s heritage and also the people she ruled over. She simply rubbed her belly and held her husband’s hand as he and the maesters argued ceaselessly with her mother. 

He grew less and less agitated by his good mother’s ideas with every conversation with his wife, who was always very soothing as she broke the news to him that–some of her mother’s traditions would be taken into practice. Her husband was not overly pleased to hear this, mainly for the sake of his pride and out of his desire to stop his wife’s mother from being granted her every whim, but he also understood that his wife’s need for comfort was a major motivator in her decision, which was something he was unable to deny her. 

The firstborn children of the princess seemed to hold the resilience and stubbornness of their ancestral houses, and with lungs that never seemed to grow tired. The Lord and Lady of Winterfell were set to have their hands full if all of their children were to inherit these traits, for the twins hardly gave the wetnurses a break. The septa assured the princess that they were simply missing their mother, as she’d been forced into a period of bedrest as a result of her difficult labours. Her lord husband and her mother alike were keen to have her follow the maester’s every instruction for her recovery, even if it meant she was unable to spend much time with her newborn children. Instead, they were under the constant care of wetnurses, Lady Stark’s mother, and Lord Stark himself whenever he was able, all of whom made an effort to bring the twins to visit with their mother as often as they could throughout the day, but with her frequent periods of resting it was not as often as she would have preferred, but at the end of the day, Cregan would keep her separated from them for as long as it took for her to regain her strength. 

He’d seen a plethora of horrifying sights in his time, faced challenges that haunted his nightmares even years later, and yet nothing has ever caused him such terror as when he entered the birthing chambers after hours of pacing and cursing with no understanding of what was happening beyond the ear splitting screams that echoed through the winding corridors of the castle. When a midwife entered the great hall, white in the face and red staining her hands and apron, the Lord of Winterfell wasted little time in disregarding whichever of his bannermen were hoping to speak to him and rushing up to see his wife.

When he’d finally been permitted into the room, easily pushing past the maester, who’d made an attempt to speak to his liege lord. Standing at the foot of the bed, he could only stare down at her, all colour faded from her flesh and crimson pooling on the fabric of her shift and the mattress as it seeped out from between her thighs. He’d been unable to focus, words of those around him muffled the world seemed to pause around him. After that, the most he could remember is being held back by his good mother when the maester proposed taking surgical measures, not even time that he spent at her side as she wailed and pushed their children into the world. On the other side of the bed, the lady’s mother wept in relief when both children were delivered and the maester finally stabilized the lady (certainly feeling the pressure of his liege lord’s unbridled rage if he were unable to save his wife).

While Cregan wanted to spend as much time as he possibly could with his newborn children, he was determined to spend just as much at his wife’s bedside while she recovered. A week of complete bed rest followed by many more of delicate treatment would be difficult for his wife to become accustomed to; she’d taken to her duties as Lady of Winterfell better than anyone could have imagined, so it was very uncomfortable for the princess to be left with nothing to do but sleep and chat with the visitors that came to see her, which was almost always her mother, but she did not mind since she usually had a wetnurse accompany her so she could bring the twins. Little Rickon had also taken to joining Alicent to visit his stepmother, crawling to snuggle up to her side and stare down at whichever of his siblings she would be holding. It warmed the hearts of both women to see how enthralled the young boy was with his new sibling, and it gladdened Alicent to see that her daughter had already taken on a motherly role in the child’s life long before she had become pregnant for the first time. 

In the weeks that had passed since the birth of their children, a new routine had been constructed amongst Lord Stark’s private household. The vast majority of his servants were meant to be at the beck and call of his wife’s needs when they were not following his own direct order, while the wetnurses who attended their children were meant to come directly to him, despite the many attempts to steal this authority made by his good mother. Alicent was a constant presence for her daughter’s servants, often found at her daughter’s bedside one moment, and coddling her grandchildren the moment that Lady Stark fell into a deep slumber. Cregan did not mind this so much, as the Dowager Queen’s behaviour became a routine of its own, allowing him to visit his children while she sat with her daughter, and sit with his wife while Alicent moved to the nursery. 

These moments were precious to him, despite the fact that she was asleep for most of his visits. On occasion, the soft scrape of his trimmed fingernails against her scalp would stir her from her dreams, a sweet smile dawning on her face as her eyes fluttered open to take in the sight of her husband’s comely face. 

“I thought you’d forgotten me,” she teased, a finger brushing a stray lock of dark hair away from his face, “I’ve missed you, husband.”

“I didn’t know you took me for such a fool, my love,” he frowned at her, catching her wrist in her strong grasp and pressing a gentle kiss to her palm, “not even the feeblest of men could forget the most beautiful woman in the world.”

That wondrous expression crossed her face, that same one she wore every time he praised her. Such a slight shift in her features was enough for Cregan to seek her out again and again, pride swelling in his chest for his ability to charm her so well. They were silent for a moment, fingers intertwining over her belly, now beginning to settle from her pregnancy.

“Have you been up today?” 

The maester, while still apprehensive about his liege lady’s condition, had admitted that short intervals of walking and fresh air could begin to speed up her recovery. 

She offered him a small smile and a nod, “Mother and I went to the nursery,” she beamed at him, “they are so beautiful.”

“Little surprise when you consider their mother,” he murmured, “I would reckon they’ll each have their choice of suitors when the time comes.”

“Let’s not think of that just yet,” she pouted, “I don’t know how I’ll let them go–I love them far more than anything in the world.”

“As do I,” he nuzzled his nose against the warm flesh of her neck, flushed under his affection, “I do not know how I can thank you for the things you have given me; our family, your heart…”

“Well, I could think of a few ways,” she smirked up at him, laughing as he groaned, dropping his forehead against her shoulder.

The maester had also instructed Lord Stark to avoid his lady wife’s bed for three moons after her labours to avoid any further internal tearings or damage that he would be unable to treat. Cregan did not hesitate to follow these orders, but could not deny that he was desperately missing his wife’s touch, and there was still some time yet to pass. 

“Don’t start with that,” he mumbled against her flesh, “not when you and I both know it cannot be finished.”

There had been a time, in the very first week of Lady Stark’s ordered bed rest when she had come to realise that, while she had been unable to fulfill her husband’s desires, he might seek out the touch of another. Through bitten-back tears and an empty stare she had given him her permission to take a lover; if he was to be unfaithful, the least he could do was be upfront about it. She’d seen her husband angry on many occasions, but never before had she witnessed such a rage, let alone one that was directed at her as when she met her husband’s gaze. 

How could you think so little of me?, he’d asked, his own emotions bubbling to the surface as his own eyes filled with tears, have I failed to prove my love for you?

The topic had yet to be brought up again, but she sometimes wondered if his words still held true. He was a man, afterall, and most would not think twice about taking a mistress–or five, at that–especially after gaining their wife’s permission. She had to give her husband some credit, for his desire for her truly never wavered in their time together, nor had he ever given her much reason to suspect any infidelity on his part, but she would not be the first lady to be blindsided with such an upset.

Her fingers carded through his long hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head, “I love you.”

He pulled just far enough away to meet her gaze, a pinch of colour covering his pale cheeks at her words while a lazy grin pulled at his lips, “And I you. More than I ever could have imagined.”

A knock echoed around the room, breaking the small bit of peace that Cregan had afforded himself. One of the guards stepped inside at Lord Stark’s command, keeping his gaze low out of respect for his liege lady’s state of undress. 

“A raven from the Wall, m’lord.”

Summer made the wildlings bolder, and the villages north of Winterfell were being ransacked faster than the men of the Night’s Watch were able to react. Each time a tribe would be taken out or chased back beyond the wall, two more raids would take place. It was not unusual for the Lord Commander to request resources and more men from the Warden of the North, nor was it unusual for Lord Stark to visit the Wall upon summer’s dawn, but Cregan was hoping that such a request would have waited until after his wife had fully recovered from her labours. 

Unfortunately for him, he was not in any position to put his duties off for personal leave, and so he found himself at his wife’s side once again three weeks later, only this time she was dressed and upright, wishing her farewell. He’d be gone for a fortnight, if all went well, but even an hour without at least a passing message from his wife was tortuous to him. The silver lining of it all was the fact that, when he returned, enough time would have passed and he could take her to bed once again–not that their advised abstinence was a hindrance to him, for he’d rather have a healthy wife than a sated libido. It also made him glad to see her up and actively interacting with their children, slowly taking on her regular duties as Lady of Winterfell once more. She was proving herself to be worthy of her title–his bannermen had continued to question Lord Stark’s choice in bride up until now, all watching with a newfound respect for her as she juggled the weight of her duties and motherhood only weeks after they had all thought she would bleed out in the birthing chambers.

“Do your duties, but I only ask that you do them quickly,” she pressed a kiss to his cheek, “Every moment that we are apart will feel like a year, I’m sure of it.”

He chuckled, “I have no doubt that my men will help me get things in order as quickly as we can.”

She scoffed, leaning closer with a wicked glint in her eye, “Well, if it hurries you any further, your wife will be waiting, very impatiently, may I add. I believe there is one duty that we have been unable to fulfill these past weeks.”

He smirked at her, “I believe so, too. Trust me, my love, there is nothing in this world that can keep me away from you for long.”

And he was right in saying that. The men of the Night’s Watch found Lord Stark to be a very stern presence, bulldozing his way to ensure that everything was in order as quickly as possible. The Lord Commander even joked about his eagerness to leave, and Cregan only responded with the truth.

I think you would not be so surprised if you had ever laid eyes on my wife.

Meanwhile, Lady Stark had returned to business as usual, tending to the internal business of her household and taking on a few of her husband’s in his absence. She was glad to have her mother during this period, no matter how hard headed and overbearing she could be. She’d taken on a maternal role for Cregan's son from his first marriage, but Rickon was a boy by the time that she’d arrived in Winterfell, so she had little to no experience with babies beyond her youngest brother Daeron, who had been born when she was only four years old. Even her elder sister Helaena had only just given birth to her own children before she had set out for Winterfell–miraculously also giving birth to twins. Alicent was her saving grace in the moments where she was unsure of how to care for her children, but also in caring for herself. 

While her body had begun to lose the telltale signs of pregnancy, there was no avoiding the bodily changes she had undergone–her belly was softer than before, her waist was not quite as slender as she would have liked it to be, and her breasts were still painfully swollen. She’d spent much of the first three months postpartum in and out of bed rest, which only proved to make the changes of her body more painfully obvious to her, and her husband’s insistence to follow the maester’s every order in regards to their marital bed had caused her some doubt–he’d assured her that he had never even considered the possibility of seeking out another, he still had not seemed very adamant for the maester’s approval and he had been reluctant to even sleep in the same bed with her. She did not doubt his love for her, she wasn’t that foolish, but his love did not necessarily mean that he was entirely attracted to her anymore. Her mother was sympathetic to this, remembering exactly how uncomfortable she’d felt with her body after her own labours. She could not stop this discomfort, nor the pains, but she could help settle her nerves and dull the aches. 

It also allowed for an extra helping hand with the children themselves, for the wetnurses were helpful but ultimately made the experience much less personal and only furthered the connection between mother and child; a connection that had been majorly robbed from Alicent herself, as no one save the king himself was able to make decisions for his infant children. The Dowager Queen had actually found that this connection between herself and her children had strengthened through her involvement with their own children. She could not deny that the relationship she had with her sons was likely irreparable, but she had only grown closer with her daughters following their respective births, and considering that she would soon be leaving Winterfell and likely would not be able to return for each of her youngest daughter’s labours, she was eager to teach her as much as possible in the time that she had left. 

Her insistence on creating a stronger bond with her daughter had also later developed into a fierce protectiveness, especially after she had been forced to sit idly by and watch as her daughter nearly bled out, anxiously awaiting her good son’s decision of whether or not her daughter would live. She had let out a sob of relief whenever he’d cursed at the maester for even suggesting… But there was still a part of her that wondered exactly how concerned that Lord Stark truly was with her daughter’s health, as he wouldn’t be the first man in the world to have greater concern for appearances and his own personal desires rather than her actual wellbeing. Alicent could very strongly remember how it felt to be cared for out of respect for her title rather than for her actual person. 

It truly did warm Alicent’s heart to witness her youngest daughter caring for her very own children with such devotion. Whenever she was able to, she would be found in the nursery. 

“I do not think I will ever get over this feeling,” the new mother had hummed, holding her daughter close to her chest with her nose nuzzled into the quickly growing patch of dark hair atop her head.

Alicent glanced over at her while cradling her grandson, smiling down at him while he tugged at a lock of her curly red hair, “You won’t. There is no time more precious with your child than when they were children, long before they can be taken from you. The gods know my life has never been so peaceful since Aegon learned to walk.”

Lady Stark scoffed, “Good luck to the man who tries to take either of them from me.”

“A woman’s curse,” her mother tutted, smoothing over the boy’s wispy silver hair, “Powerful enough to bring life into this world, and yet not enough to choose when or how it is done.”

“They are my greatest creations,” she admitted, “I hope to give them another sibling soon enough.”

Alicent’s eyes snapped to her, confusion crossing her features at the prospect of her daughter looking to have another child so soon, “Surely you cannot expect to have another just yet.”

She shrugged, “The maester has approved me to begin laying with my husband again upon his return. If the gods wish for us to have another child, then I will gladly have another.”

Alicent scoffed, laying the child back into his crib, “And what does your lord husband have to say about this?”

Gently lowering her daughter into her own cradle, Lady Stark sighed, “He is…I cannot be sure. Every time I bring it up, he seems uncertain. He has assured me that he would not take a mistress, but I know I do not look exactly as I did before.”

“Perhaps he simply wishes for a healthy wife rather than a litter of children. He has his heir, Rickon, and you have given him two more already.” 

“So what would you suggest I do, then?”

Alicent huffed, taking her daughter’s hand in her own as an act of both comfort to her and to calm her own nerves, “Tea. That is what I did for a time, when I did not think I could handle another labour for some time.” 

Lady Stark took her mother’s hand in her own, “I cannot tell you how sorry I am that you have been subjected to the things you have, both by my father and your own.”

Alicent seemed surprised at her daughter’s transparency, opening her mouth to attempt a response when a sharp knock cut through the quickly growing tension between mother and daughter. Lady Stark called out for her saviour to enter, glad to have ended that conversation earlier than her mother would have willingly allowed her to. A servant peeked her head in, seemingly sensing the Dowager Queen’s annoyance at the intrusion, bashfully pushing her way into the room and dipping into a curtsy before her lady. 

“Forgive the intrusion, my lady.”

“It’s alright, Amara,” Lady Stark shook her head, “what is it?”

“Lord Stark’s banners have been sighted just past Long Lake. The scout says it should only be a few hours now.”

She thanked the serving girl, pulling her hand away from her mother’s grasp as she moved to follow her into the corridor, “Excuse me, mother, I must prepare for my lord husband’s return.”

Cregan was glad to be welcomed warmly as he returned to his ancestral home, enjoying a hot bath, followed by a hearty meal, both while accompanied by his loving wife. She took her place at his side in the dining hall, her fingers curled around his bicep while he ate and recounted exactly how honourable the men of the Night’s Watch were–she would use a different word for most of those men, but she was far too pleased to be together once again to argue with him on something so piddly. The glances shared between husband and wife were enough to make even the most stern of Cregan’s greybeards blush, nothing but love, admiration, and carnal desire passing between them. 

She gave him a moment to visit with the twins, taking that free time to prepare herself, stripping herself of her wool and fur and donning her favourite silk nightgown, a soft blue in colour and embroidered with greys and white around the neckline. The sleeves were short, just barely covering the slope of her shoulders, while the neckline dipped lower than any of her others–it was something that she would only wear for the sake of seduction, not comfort, and she was certain her husband would be equally grateful and bashful for it. 

When Cregan finally returned to his chambers for the night, it was nearly the hour of the wolf and the castle had long turned silent. He was surprised to find his wife still up, sitting in the plush chair before the raging fireplace with a book in her lap. Her eyes snapped to the door as it creaked open, smiling to herself at the sight of her affectionate but tired husband as he crossed the room and pressed a firm kiss to her forehead. 

He moved to the grand wardrobe in the opposite corner, freshly ungloved hands tugging at the buckle of his thick black fur cloak. He was quick to shed his clothes, his hot northern blood eager to be free of the many layers of wool and leather and fur now that he had entered the chambers that his southern wife required to be kept warm. Her own chambers were actually the warmest in the castle, and they did frequent them from time to time, but she much preferred her husband’s after spending weeks on end in her own bed, unable to do any more than stand to relieve herself. 

“You did not need to wait for me, my love,” he called as he finally stripped himself of his linen undershirt, his broad back decorated with bulging muscles and jagged scars from his years of hardened training and the mischief of his youth, “it is late.”

She shook her head, smirking to herself at her husband who was ever concerned for her wellbeing, “Nonsense. It’s been three weeks, I will not forfeit our first moment alone.”

When he turned, a dark red blush spread from ear to ear, covering every inch of his freckled flesh in between. She had moved from her seat in the chair, now standing a few steps closer to him, but the flickering light from the fireplace illuminated her figure beneath the nearly sheer nightgown, exposing curves that he had yet to feel beneath his rough hands, breasts heavy with milk, and belly soft from her childbearing. He had denied himself pleasure while he was unable to have her, only taking matters into his own hands when the images of her in his head began to appear to him in the nude. 

She seemed to take note of the effect that her body was having on her husband. Bashfully, she stepped forward, the rapidly growing bulge in his pants boosting her confidence as she presented her body to him. When she finally reached him, he wasted little time in grasping her hips in his meaty paws, drawing her closer as she traced her hands over his warm chest, one gliding over the muscle of his pec to curl around the back of his neck.

“I know I may not look…or feel as I once did,” she nervously chewed on her lip, “but I would give anything to have you tonight.”

He rested his forehead against her own, brows furrowed seemingly in a mixture of confusion and concern, “I will not hear such things about my wife, who is the most beautiful woman in the world and could never leave me unsatisfied.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then to the bridge of her nose, then to her cheek, and finally to her lips, “I have loved you before as my wife, and I love you impossibly more as the mother of my children. The changes in your body only represent the greatest gift you could have given me, only a fool would be blind to that.”

She smiled as she pressed her lips against him once again. Cregan was eager to reciprocate, chuckling into her mouth at her hunger as she easily melted into his arms. His palms slid around her hips to grasp at her bum, squeezing each of her cheeks appreciatively as he lifted her from the ground. She squeaked in surprise as he moved back across the room to drop her on the bed, standing tall over her as she bounced against the plush feather mattress. 

She stared up at him, eyes drinking in the soft grooves of his abdomen, thick muscles framing his broad figure. His hands reached down to unlace his trousers, breath hitching as his hands were pushed away by his wife, who quickly replaced them with her own. She held eye contact with her husband as tugged the fold in his breeches apart, the laces pulling loose and allowing her to slowly slide the thick fabric down just enough to release his member. It was warm against the flesh of her palm, growing in size as she dragged her hand up and down his length, a droplet of his arousal forming on the tip as she brought her lips down to gently press against it. 

Her lips curled into a wicked grin at the sound of the throaty groan he let out, eyes catching every shift in his normally stoic demeanor. She was very appreciative of how attentive her husband was to her, both in private and in the public eye, but there was nothing more satisfying than seeing exactly how easily she was unable to unravel him in a way that no one else would ever witness; big, strong Lord Stark brought to his knees by his southern wife, it was almost blasphemous to even think of. 

Cregan allowed her to continue touching and licking and kissing at his member for a few moments before pulling her away. 

“My love, be kind to me tonight,” he murmured through gritted teeth, “I cannot promise that I will not finish before you do, at least do not deny me the pleasure of doing it inside of you.”

She nodded quickly, moving away from his groin to rid herself of the lacy nightgown, not trusting that Cregan would be able to resist tearing it from her body, as he had so many times. When she returned, she pushed him to sit on the mattress, taking her rightful place in his lap as she reunited their lips in a demanding embrace, sighing at the sensation of her husband’s hands tracing over her naked flesh for the first time in so long–he’d joined her in the bath a time or two during her recovery, but he’d been very mindful in his touches as to not work either of them up when their desired release was not feasible. 

He groaned into her kiss as his fingers finally found purchase between her thighs, months of built up desire having caused her to drip into his palm as he traced over the familiar folds before pressing his fingers into her entrance. She sighed at the sensation, pushing her hips into his touch. He continued his movements, pulling away from her kiss to take one of her heavy breasts into his mouth.

She toppled over the edge easily, her body so incredibly sensitive to his touch after months without it. There had been times after her period of bed rest had ended where she had hoped to initiate some sort of intimacy with her husband, and there were many times where he had been so close to falling into the temptation, but alas, Cregan embodied every trait of a typical Northern man, especially the stubbornness. 

Only giving herself a moment’s rest, she pressed her hands to her husband’s firm chest, watching as he bounced slightly as his back hit the feathered mattress and a look of surprise crossed his features. He stared up at her, blue-grey eyes wide and filled with wonder as he stared up at his wife, a warm glow bouncing off of her soft skin under the flickering light of the fire, silver hair gleaming in the dark. He was a man of the Old Gods by tradition, but he was certain that he was looking upon the Mother herself, or perhaps even one of her own ancestral gods from Valyria. Her figure, though equally as divine as it had been before, only fuller and softer, and he was now certain that there was no possible way that she could steal away even more of his being (though this was not the first time he’d thought, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. A soft hiss rumbled through his as her hand reached down to grasp at the base of his cock, squeezing firmly before lining the tip to her weeping entrance and sinking down in a single fluid motion. 

“You’ve denied me this for months now,” She gasped as she settled onto his hips, pausing to adjust to his size, “I forbid you to do so for a moment longer.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

They fell into a heavy silence, only the sounds of their staggered breaths and the soft sounds of their flesh meeting over and over again. His hands ghosted over the curve of her hips, taking hold and tugging her along in a steady pace, taking control from her easily as her head fell back in relief. This was a common thread in their marriage, where Cregan was physically the dominant figure in the relationship, always the protector and provider for his wife, while she held every ounce of control over his mind, heart, and soul. 

He dug his fingers tighter into her hips and his own began to arch off the bed to meet her slow but eager pace. He finally removed one, moving it across her abdomen to press against her lower belly, grinning at the feeling of himself through the layers of tissue and muscle, his thumb stretching down to find her throbbing pearl. Cregan was fully aware that he would not be able to last much longer, but he would be damned if he was going to have his wife for the first time in months and not feel her finish around him. 

Her hips quickened, movements shifting from a slow grind into a more rapid bounce as she chased after the pleasure she had been denied for so long. Cregan watched greedily as her breasts swayed with each of her movements while her whimpers and moans grew louder and more desperate. Her head rolled forward, meeting his gaze for the first time since she had first taken him inside of her, and the affection that gleamed in his grey eyes brought her forward, hands moving to fist the furs on either side of his head as she captured his lips in an open-mouthed kiss. 

“Cregan–” she whimpered against his lips, voice cut off by her own heaving breaths, “I can’t, I can’t–”

He shushed her, the hand that had been anchored to her hip gliding up the length of her spine until he was able to take hold of her hair, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you…” he repeated like a mantra, forcing her face into the crook of his neck as he forced his hips up faster and harder than before, curses and grunts falling from his lips as she stiffened, a weak cry falling from her lips as she finally tipped over the edge, her juices flowing down his length as he continued to thrust in and out of her until he too fell into bliss. 

They laid there together for a few moments, completely pressed against one another as they came down from their nearly unison high. She was jelly against him, barely mustering enough strength to lift her hips enough to slide his softening length out of her. 

Cregan held his wife against him as he sat up, carefully maneuvering her to lay back against the pillows, pride filling his entire body at the sight of her glossy, wide eyes and the few tear tracks over her cheeks. She had a terrible habit of crying during their most intimate moments, a sight that had once scared him now only served as a reminder of how good he was able to make her feel. He moved across the room, offering her a loving glance in response to the whine she let out at his departure, returning only moments later with a damp cloth from the wash basin set up in the corner of his chambers. His touches were soft as he cleaned up the mess that had been created between her thighs, gliding the cloth between her swollen lips and across the plush fat of her inner thighs. 

“Should I send for some tea?” He muttered to her, “I do not want you to feel as if you must give me more children straight away.”

She hummed, sliding her palm across his firm chest appreciatively, “Nothing would please me more than to bring more and more children into this world… but I do not think I can handle going without your touch for that long again.”

Cregan chuckled, taking her hand within his own and bringing it up to dress her knuckles to his lips, “I must admit that I feel the same way. I’ll send for the maester.”

“Not yet,” She stopped him as he moved to get up from the bed, smirking at his confused stare, “It would be a waste to have to send for more before I am finished with you.”

[cuteandhughesy]

Love Is Not Dying | Vince Dunn

summary: hooking up with the hottest guy who think you’ve ever seen can’t go wrong…right?

7.4k

warnings: NSFW! one night stand | drinking | brothers teammate (beniers! reader) | flirting | sexual and mature themes | kissing | smut | brief nipple play | fingering | oral (f receiving) | protected p in v intercourse | filthy sex bc vince just brings it out of me | read at your own discretion

a/n: formed from this request! thought i’d combine this idea with the very much high-demand need for vince dunn! so with that being said here’s so smut to satisfy your eyes on valentine’s day 💌🤭

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contrary to what movies, shows, books and anything and everything else tells you—moving to a new city is actually really refreshing. there's something about a fresh start that just feels so good. the delicious cafes, the smell of a new apartment, the new restaurants and people everywhere you turn...what's not to like?

seattle is your fresh start—your new city. a place where you can forget about your old life and asshole ex-boyfriend back in massachusetts. getting treated like the dirt on the bottom of a shoe and being cheated on for 2 and a half years really pushes you to get the hell away from hingham.

moving to seattle seemed like the most logical option considering it's where your younger brother lived—playing for the kraken like the ridiculously talented athlete he's always proven himself to be. hockey has never really been your thing though, regardless of matty's undying devotion. you prefer to cheer him on from your couch...with your dad texting you anytime matty scores. you didn't even know seattle had a nhl team until they drafted your brother.

your phone buzzes in your jacket pocket, vibrating the leather and tickling your skin.

little shit

hey. you're still coming over for breakfast tomorrow?

matty's text has you snickering, and you almost walk into a bike rack lining the sidewalk. you blink, a flush covering your cheeks.

y/n

planning on it. unless you've changed your mind and want to treat some random hookup to my well deserved time with you

the bag on your shoulder begins slipping, the faux leather providing the perfect slip and slide for the strap of your canvas tote. the last thing you need is to drop the grocery bag and shatter your eggs and spill the milk. then the whole trip out would be pointless.

matty can tell you're joking around, he knows you too well to assume otherwise. you have always been close, and because of the distance between states, you'd only been seeing one another at christmas and in the summer since 2021–when he was drafted. but now you're in seattle, and your younger brother is only a 10 minute drive from your new apartment.

you've only been here three days, and matty has been bugging you about having breakfast since the u-haul pulled into your complex. little bastard couldn't even help you unpack because of his strict schedule—two game day naps your ass.

little shit

I was going to ask if you wanted sweet or savoury—but maybe I should reconsider having you over if you'd be so inclined to think i'd cancel on my favourite sister

y/n

i'm your only sister

little shit

see you tomorrow 😌

you roll your eyes with nothing but fondness, shoving your phone in your pocket as you continue the walk back to your apartment. it doesn't take long until you're back home, unloading the small grocery haul from the strawberry printed tote bag.

your new job at seattle's biggest law firm—which you still can't believe hired you—started yesterday, and it's only been a day but you feel so welcomed and accepted already. it's another confirmation that you're meant to be in seattle. one of your new co-workers jasmine, a stunning woman with dark skin and chocolate eyes, invited you out to one of the local bars tonight.

you'd gotten the text on the way to the grocery store, as well as a follow up message that she and a few other employees wanted to get to know you better. ever the social butterfly you agreed easily—excitement flowing through your veins at the thought of letting loose, mingling and hopefully forming some friendships.

jasmine let you know that everyone was meeting at the bar around 8:30, and you were welcome to join them anytime then. you make yourself some dinner, a delicious saucy pasta that has you serving yourself a second bowl, before jumping into the shower.

you take your time in there, making sure your scalp is scrubbed, and your legs and underarms are shaved—you're not sure if you're going to wear a tank top, and you're going to be prepared. by the time you've blowed dried your hair into loose, bouncy curls, put on your usual dusting of makeup and decided what to wear—it's time to leave.

you order an uber as you're planning on having a couple drinks, and as you finish up with your shoes, the notification of your rides arrival lights up your phone. on the way to the bar you busy yourself with your phone—responding to emails and texts that you've been neglecting since getting to seattle. you even respond to matty's picture of waffle ingredients laid out on his counter, as well as his annoying message.

little shit

you never answered. so sweet it is 🖕🏽

y/n

if you think I wanted anything but sweet you're just stupid

little shit

ouch. i'm going to poison your breakfast

the uber comes to a rather rough stop against the curb, the middle aged man giving you a polite smile that also says hey, get out. i've got work to do.

you bid a thank you and step onto the sidewalk, the late october air nipping your skin despite it being a warmer evening. you run your hands through your hair to try and tame any frizzy fly aways that have sprouted in the uber, and make your way inside the cozy bar.

you're immediately enveloped in the atmosphere of what feels like a family owned bar—exposed brick and worn leather booths lining the walls, matching the scuffed floorboards under your feet. the lights are dim, giving that mysterious vibe that does nothing but intrigue you. it's cute and packed.

you should've expected it to be busy considering it's a friday night, but the amount of people lingering and mingling throughout the room is just baffling. you push up into your tip toes, searching through the sea of people to try and spot your co-workers. well, jasmine—because you're not sure who else is here.

jasmine finds you first, standing up at their claimed booth and waving. "y/n! we're over here."

you smile as your eyes connect, making your way through the crowd and dodging tipsy people as you walk towards the booth. "hey," you greet warmly, accepting the sweet hug jasmine offers. "this place is nice."

"and fucking packed." your other co-worker, a defense lawyer named brock, mumbles with a grin, taking a slow sip of his beer as he eyes you.

joseph, another lawyer stands from his spot on the outside of the booth, gesturing for you to slip in beside him. you smile politely, slipping your pea coat off and hanging it over your arm. "thanks."

"you look great." jasmine compliments warmly, twirling the mouthful of wine left in the bottom of her glass, creating a mini whirlpool. "seriously where'd you get that jacket—it's killer."

you grin, sliding the clothing item of jasmine's desire between your hip and the wall. your jewelry chimes together as you pick up the small drink menu. "it's from h&m, can you believe that."

she gasps, lips forming a small shocked but amused 'o'. "I wasn't aware of h&m's game."

you laugh, thumbing through the sheets of laminated card stock that display the assortment of different drinks. there's even some typical bar food listed like fries and wings—slathered in sauce and grease. joseph doesn't sit back down beside you, but instead jerks his thumb over his shoulder and in the direction of the bar. "anybody want a drink? i'm going up for another round."

"hit me." brock says deeply, finishing off the last swig of foamy beer in the bottom of his bottle. jasmine follows suit, asking for another mulberry wine with a exaggerated grin.

joseph looks at you expectantly, a playful quirk to his one dark eyebrow. "i'll have whatever whiskey they have, with some coke. diet please, joseph." you say confidently, closing the menu and slotting it back into the metal holder at the end of the table.

brock hums in what seems like approval, drumming his fingers on the slightly sticky table top. "you heard the lady, joey boy."

despite the almost arrogant attitude brock seems to have, he's actually really fucking nice—hell so is joseph, and jasmine even more so. you can't believe how lucky you've been at this job, and having three amazing people to work alongside you is a dream come true.

seattle already feels like home and you haven't even been here a week. you spend a good two hours laughing, chatting—and drinking—with your new friends, and everything in your little world flows easily.

it's almost 11:30 when you slurp up the last sip of watered down whiskey and coke concoction through one of those small black mixing straws. you pout with a tiny whine, dropping the glass back to the table. "i'm empty."

joseph snorts behind the rim of his bottle. "want another?"

"yeah," you huff. "but I'll get it—need to stretch my legs before I start to cramp." jasmine laughs playfully as joseph lets you slide out of the booth, stumbling slightly as your feet find the worn wood floorboards.

jasmine takes a slow gulp of her wine, eyes nothing but mischievous as she eyes you. "sure you just don't wanna get closer to that group of hotties over there? that one brunette can't stop checking you out."

your brows pull, as well as your smile. "where?" you ask wildly, looking over you shoulder to try and find this alleged group of men jasmine alludes to. you find them easily. theres 5 men, all broad and tall, sticking out like a sore thumb. there's one guy in particular—a stupidly good looking guy—who must've been watching you, because as soon as you catch his eyes, his head turns away faster than you can blink.

"don't look!" she scolds with a hushed tone, but her words have no bite against her amused expression.

"I don't care." you admit cheekily, pulling your gaze away from jasmine and back to the guys sitting on the opposite side of the busy bar. although now it's not as bustling, but still packed enough that you have to weave through bodies to get to the bar top.

the female bartender, probably around 50, looks at you flatly. but even with that deadpanned looks you can see a friendly glimmer in her eyes, and the subtle way her lip quirks upwards in a smile. "what can I get you honey?"

somebody on your left bumps into you, too distracted talking over her friends to pay attention to you. you sigh gently, but ignore it, giving the bartender your full attention. "whiskey and coke please. diet."

she lets out a half breath of laughter, grabbing one of the shallow glasses from underneath the counter. "got sick of your boyfriend coming up here?"

you're confused at first, but then the blonde bartenders brows flick towards, eyes darting back to your table—to joseph. "oh," you chime, "he's not my boyfriend but yeah, I was ready to get out of that booth and stretch my legs a little."

your eyes find her shiny gold name tag, 'marlene: owner.' you should've known this woman was important to this place, her energy is just that strong. marlene turns away from you, walking further down the bar is search of the whiskey she's been serving you all evening.

the bar has cleared a bit in the time she's gone, and the oblivious blonde who bumped you earlier and her group has gone back to the makeshift dance floor—but there's still enough of a crowd that if you look on either side of yourself, your eyes are landing on somebodies face or shoulder (depending on their height obviously).

marlene returns after a minute or two, sliding a perfectly made glass over to you—the diet coke bubbles, coming up and stinging your nose. "here you go baby."

"thanks," you grin, opening your small shoulder bag and digging through your various cards. "how much?"

"oh no," marlene snickers, pulling your attention back to her unreadable expression. "it's been paid for." before you have a chance to question what she means, marlene's hazy eyes flicker to the other side of the bar—where she was just making your drink. that's when you see him. the guy who you caught starring at you earlier. the mystery man isn't with his friends, but he's got three beers in his hands like he's been sent up to fetch them.

his cheeks are pink, skin pale. his broad shoulders are covering by a black fitted long sleeve, the material hugging his biceps and doing nothing to hide the ridges of muscles underneath his skin. the man's eyes dart up, finding you and marlene.

unlike before he holds your eye contact for a moment, tipping his head in a greeting and a small smile pulling at his plump limps. your brows raise in amusement before turning back to marlene. "i'm sure i'll see you again."

she snickers. "i'm sure you and him both will."

you take your drink before rounding to the other side of the long bar counter, pushing between bodies until your right next to the attractive mystery man. your chest smooshes against his bicep, and when your nipples catch wind of the contact against his hard muscles, they pinch and tighten.

he looks down at you curiously, but amused nonetheless—tongue darting out to swipe along his lower lip.

"so first was staring at me across the room, and then next was buying my drink..." you trail off lightly, eyes twinkling with playfulness as you pause in anticipation. "what's after that?"

he breathes a soft laugh, eyes quickly flickering away from you and across the bar. but just as fast, mystery man is looking back down at you. hoping to appear seductive, you slowly take your straw into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the mixing stick before taking a drink—hopefully you're tempting him.

he swallows thickly. "well maybe you'll find out once you finish your drink." his tone is teasing, and it shoots straight down to your core. you haven't even thought of a man sexually since breaking up with your boyfriend—and honestly even having sex with him didn't do anything for you.

you're touch starved, and so horny it's not even funny. so go forbid you start throbbing as soon as an attractive stranger buys you a drink and keeps eyeing your lips. sue you.

your brows raise, and before he can blink, you take your straw out of the glass, raising the rim to your lips and chugging the entire thing. once it's empty, you wipe your mouth and plop the mixing stick into the empty glass and put it back on the bar.

he takes his bottom lip into his mouth, and he can't help but eye the way your lips have been moistened by your drink—and maybe even taking a quick peek at your cleavage. he's stronger than no other man.

"alright," he smiles, tone full of appraisal and making your heart skip. "I'm vince." his hand justs out, and you take it, your small hand almost completely enclosed by his much larger palm.

"i'm y/n." you smile, and the sight has vince's breath hitching. suddenly he's completely forgotten that he's still waiting on jared's wine (his taste is too expensive for beer apparently), and when you ask him to dance with you, he quickly agrees, abandoning the beer bottles in the bar.

from your booth, your new co-workers watch you lead vince out into the crowd, both of you looking at one another with a look that just screams tension. joseph's brows raise, but an amused smile is on his face. "she's insane."

brock blows out some air. "she's hot."

"she's a baddie." jasmine corrects brock, elbowing him in the ribs as a warning for his behaviour. but he just snickers again, watching through lidded eyes as you vince begin moving with one another in a slow, steady motion—knowing grins on your faces as you whisper to one another about god knows what.

you love the way vince is touching you—grabbing you—like you're his. but it's also not possessive, and even though the way he's handling you is confident, you can feel an underlying shyness, or perhaps hesitation in this movements.

vince doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, and he also doesn't want to come across awkward. it's not everyday he's out at the bars, dancing with strangers like this. a very beautiful stranger who makes his dick twitch in anticipation nonetheless.

you dance together for what feels like forever—but could honestly only be 10 minutes. every look vince sends your way, every lick along his bottom lip, every touch, breath, laugh, and whispered words has your stomach dropping and head spinning.

his voice isn't super deep, but it's got a certain rasp that has you hanging onto every word and question that passes through his tempting lips. between dancing with vince and going back up to the bar together for refills—marlene giving you that look everytime she spots you tucked under his arm—you learn quite a bit about the handsome stranger.

vince works in sports, but he didn't disclose his actual profession. it has your mind working overtime—is he a journalist? maybe a football star? does seattle have a basketball team? he's originally from a small town in canada, one that you've never heard of. his ideal vacation is somewhere tropical, his favourite food is italian and he's a boobs guy based on the fact he can't stop looking at yours.

thank the fashions gods for low cut shirts.

and it's not like he's been only letting you ask him questions. vince has been just as interested in asking you about your life (and squeezing your hips, but that's a whole another story). telling him about moving out to spend time with your younger brother and working at a high end law firm came easily, and the almost proud smile on vince's face made your decision feel validating.

which says something, because validation from a stranger is never something you've strived towards. vince doesn't feel like a stranger though, which is a shame because after tonight, chances are he will be.

a little while later jasmine is sliding up next to you and vince, her eyes narrowed playfully as she looks at the lack of space between the two of you. "hey," she starts, her grin growing. "we're hungry, thinking about getting pizza. you guys wanna come?"

a small gasp leaves you, and your eyes light up like fireflies. your drunk brain and empty stomach agree—pizza would be divine. "oh my god! yes."

jasmine cheers, lips tainted with her wine. "yay! okay i'll get your coat and we will meet you outside." her eyes dart to vince again, smiling increasing before she slips back through the crowd.

you take your lip between your teeth, but even that can't stop your smile from widening. your small hands wrap around vince's forearms, squeezing the muscles beneath your fingers as you blink up at him. "you coming? please come with me. we can share pizza lady and the tramp style."

he laughs, a real hearty laugh that comes from his stomach. his fingers slide up your back, passing over your bras straps. "how would that even work?"

you shrug. "I don't know but we can figure it out."

vince's eyes twinkle with something you don't recognize, and his lips quirk up higher in an amused grin. you blink up at him again, all doe eyes and babydoll like and he's nodding. "okay, let's go."

you grin triumphantly, and he lets you pull him through the crowd easily. there's something so sexy about it, especially when you know he could easily overpower you in any way—at any moment.

the chilly air nips at your bare arms, leaving a wake of goosebumps all over your skin. you curse three different swears, all of them blending together to create one big fuck fest. vince snickers, rubbing his hands over your arms in attempt to warm you up. he's so hot you're pretty sure your underwear are soaked with arousal.

when joseph passes you your coat, vince takes it from your co-worker with a nod, and then he helps you slip it on. you're seriously going to die before getting pizza.

the walk isn't more than 10 minutes, and you can smell the tomato sauce and warm dough as you approach the building, lit up by neon signs. inside is busy, mostly drunk college kids. vince keeps you close, and arm around your waist between you and your coat like he's from a damn rom com. "what are wanting?" he asks you softly, leaning down so he's whispering in your ear.

you hum pleasantly. "just cheese."

joseph gets garlic bread for himself, and he threatens if anyone tries to steal a bite he'll walk them over the head with the red plastic basket. jasmine and brock get a deep dish pizza to share, loaded with vegetables and pepperoni, while you and vince get your cheese pizza. and yes, he pays for not only your order, but your co-workers orders too.

you might be in love and you might have to keep him forever.

because it's busy, the seating options are a little sparse, and you won't be able to all sit together. your co-workers get a table meant for two, but steal a spare chair from a friendly group of frat guys and make it a table for three. you and vince find a spot at the counter, two available stools in the corner against the wall—next to the neon outline of pizza slice.

your so squished in there that you're overlapping with vince, and your leg might as well be draped over his spread, huge thighs. you take an unattractive bite of your slice, and groan happily.

vince smiles, chewing his own bite of pizza as you watches you with amusement. "good?"

you nod. "so good." you finish off the slice before speaking again, sucking your thumb into your mouth to taste the pizza grease. "what's your favourite disney movie?"

he's almost at the crust of his second slice of pizza. vince hums between bites, brows pulled in concentration as he thinks of an answer. "sleeping beauty."

your lips quirks. "really?" he nods. "you kind of remind me of prince phillip you know, all sexy and tall." you admit shamelessly, picking up another slice and biting the into crust first.

vince blushes, but doesn't look embarrassed. "you think i'm sexy?" he questions, dusting his hands off against his thighs. you watch his fingers as they run over his legs, and when he catches you staring, vince's smirk widens.

"yeah, I do."

his tongue swipes along his bottom lip, and he leans closer to you by an inch or two. "I think you're really sexy." vince says, voice all low and hushed like he doesn't want anyone to overhear. nobody could even if they wanted to, the array of loud voices and charli xcx playing over the speakers is too loud.

you take your lip into your mouth as you smirk. you decide to tease him, "does that though have anything to do with my cleavage?"

vince's eyes twinkle again. he holds your gaze, and his brows pull together the smallest amount—smirk never wavering. "part of it, yeah." to accentuate his point, vince's gaze flickers to your boobs for a moment, and then finds your warm face again.

your cross your legs to try and relive some of the throbbing pressure in your corse.  "perv. eat your pizza." you send him a teasing glare and smile before you take a bite of your slice in an attempt to try and not jump his bones in front of everyone. vince's eyes linger on you for a long moment but eventually he does what he's told, picking up a slice and taking a huge bite.

a moment passes, and he swallows. "you always this curious?" it's not accusatory, but instead curious. vince waits for your response, wiping his mouth with a logo branded napkin before balling it up and setting it on the nearly empty pizza stone.

"always," you nod. "you can learn so much about a person when you ask them questions—questions that aren't informative but rather fun and silly. like the disney movie one."

he hums. "so what have you learned about me from my disney answer?"

you purse your lips in thought, dropping the rest of your slice back down to the stone. you ponder for a moment as you try and find the words. your eyes flicker over his, and you lean in close, your leg pushing against his. "I think that you're a bit of a hopeless romantic, even though you'd never admit it. you're a bit shy, but you love meeting new people. you'd do anything for the people you love—even if that means pricking yourself on a cursed needle."

vince nods, a deep sound rattling in his throat as he looks at you. without realizing it, he's leaned in closer to you, and if you wanted to, you could brush the tips of your noses together. he takes his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down on the skin as his gaze darts over your face. "interesting."

your quirk a brow. "am I right?"

he releases his lip with a gentle pop, gaze never once wandering from your warm, beautiful face. vince swallows, "yeah. you're right."

you cheer and that has vince's fond smile widening. he has to ignore the way your small, painted fingers absentmindedly run over his jean covered knee or else he'll have no choice but to take your clothes off and fuck you on the counter.

vince blinks the dirty thought out of his mind. "ask me another question. I like when you're talking."

a beat passes before your eyes glaze over with lust. you put your hands on the top of his thigh for leverage as you lean into his space, lips brushing the shell of his ear as you speak. "are you gunna to fuck me tonight?"

his body tenses, you can feel it under your palms. you grin in satisfaction, pulling back just enough so your eyes lock. vince's hand slides over the side of your face, fingers threading through your hair as he holds you. before he can talk himself out of it, he leans in and kisses you.

it's chaste and experimental like he's testing the waters and giving you the opportunity to stop him. but you don't want him to stop, your earlier words doing enough to prove that. you kiss him again, a more firm pressure that last 5 seconds. he taste like pizza and beer, and you can't get enough.

and then vince kisses you for a third time, his lips slotting between yours in a proper, hotter embrace that has your toes curling in your shoes and belly swooping. mindful of the public space, he releases your mouth after merely 15 seconds, resting his forehead on yours as you both breathe heavily. "I want to ruin you."

"ruin me." you whisper, pressing one more kiss to his glistening lips. "let's get out of here." you breathe against him, sliding off your stool and standing between his spread thighs.

the taxi ride back to your place is excruciating. you can't keeps your hands off one another—subtle squeezes and trailing fingers over sensitive areas. vince kisses your neck in open mouthed, hot intervals, and each time you moan—which makes him snicker against your skin.

the taxi driver keeps sending you looks through the rearview, but you don't even care.

as soon as you're in the elevator, vince's lips are on yours—capturing them in a breath taking kiss that has you tingling. your hands rake over his strong chest, feeling up his muscles underneath his black long sleeve.

he shudders at the feeling, but his kiss doesn't waver. vince has one hand tucked in your hair, scratching at your scalp soothingly while his other hand squeezes handfuls of your ass—the combination the perfect mix of soft and rough.

"I need you." you whimper against his lips. vince sighs deeply, pushing his bulge against your lower belly—he doesn't have to repeat your words. he doesn't need to in order for you to know it's reciprocated.

the elevator dings, and the heavy doors slide open. your grin, pulling away from vince and taking ahold of his hands. you pull him down the hallway quickly, stealing flirtatious glances over your shoulder. as your hands begin unlocking the door, vince smacks your ass firmly before giving it another hard squeeze.

he leans into your back. "you're so fucking pretty." vince presses a kiss to the junction of your neck, and it has you faltering, eyes fluttering closed and a sigh leaving your puffy lips.

thankfully vince pushes the door open further and saves you from having to move. he uses his hips to shuffle you into your own apartment, never stopping the suckling against your neck as he gently kicks the door closed.

his hands are all over you again, squeezing your hips and running up your belly until his thumbs brush the underside of your boobs. he repeats the motions until your withering, wordlessly begging for more. vince pushes you to the wall, and you shiver when the cold surface touches your chest—nipples pinching under your top.

vince slips off your coat, and his lips trial after it—down your shoulder and towards your elbow. your gasp lightly, looking down over your shoulder with hooded eyes as he removes your jacket, throwing it towards your couch. his eyes flicker up towards yours. "wanna taste you. you gunna let me taste you, baby?"

"yeah," you whine, fingers flexing against the wall. "please...please."

vince smirks and doesn't make you wait, dropping to his knees before his hands trail up the backs of your thighs, rounding over your ass and hooking into the waist pants of your pants. he roughly yanks them down, exposing your skimpy underwear and sticky arousal.

you thank god for choosing sexy underwear tonight.

he groans, palming your ass and exposing your core further, which is barley covered by the fabric anyways. vince nips the skin of your ass, before smoothing the sting with a open mouthed kiss. "fucking god, y/n."

you moan, pushing your hips back as you search for some much needed friction. vince is in a trance, fingers squeezing your thighs and ass as he admires your pussy. there's really no reason for your underwear at this point, he thinks, because there's not enough fabric to cover half of your pussy, never mind all of it.

you're glistening, practically dripping. you can feel vince lean in closer, breath fanning over your slick folds. he nudges your spread thighs further apart, hooking his index finger into the crotch of your lacy paintes and yanking them to the side.

vince licks his lips. "so messy and pretty." he doesn't waste anymore time, and he dives in, licking a wide strip from your clit and back to your leaking entrance.

"oh god." you sigh shakily, eyes fluttering once again at the feeling of vince's mouth on your needy heat. vince has the perfect combination of sucking, licking and kissing that has your knees going weak. "you're so good at this...holy fuck."

vince smirks against you and then sucks your clit perfectly, his nose running along your entrance perfectly. "never tasted something this good."

you gasp, one of your hands leaving the wall and reaching behind you, threading your fingers through vince's thick brown hair. "i'm close." you admit breathily, squeezing his roots in an attempt to keep him close.

vince hums, but much to your dismay he pulls away from you, leaving your pussy to throb and flutter around nothing—searching for more. you pout, but the sight of your arousal soaking vince's lips and chin has you moaning again.

vince smacks your ass as he gets off the floor, flipping you around to face him.

"why'd you stop?" you pout, pushing your boobs against his chest, fingers relaxing over his biceps teasingly.

he smirks. "relax, you'll get it again." vince kisses you again, and you can taste yourself when he slips his tongue into your mouth. the next few moments are a flurry of hurried movements. you pulling off vince's shirt and unbuckling his leather belt—vince practically ripping your tank top off and exposing your tight nipples and heavy tits.

his calloused palms slide up your ribs and cup your tits, giving them a quick squeeze. your head falls back against the wall as vince's thumbs swipe over your nipples, a back and forth motion that has them getting impossibly harder.

"your place is nice." he says lowly. his casual scentence is contradictory to his actions—pinching your nipple between his thumb and index finger.

you mewl, arching into his touch desperately. "thanks...ugh-lots of..mhmm. lots of places to fuck me on." your words are broken by your own moans and sighs of pleasure. it's kind of pathetic but vince thinks there's nothing hotter.

he face dips down to your chest, inclosing his warm mouth on your nipple—tongue swirling and prodding the bud like it's his profession. your hands are in his hair again, carding through the locks and tugging when he sucks just right.

vince switches to your other nipple. "where do you want me to fuck you?" he asks before taking you into his mouth, repeating his movements on your nipple while he palms your now unattended one.

you lick along your bottom lip and watch through lidded eyes as vince sucks your tits. you're pretty sure your arousal is leaking onto the floor and puddling between your heels. "you could take me on the floor and I'd be happy."

he releases your nipple with a quiet pop. "don't say that....because I will."

you grin softly, bringing his face back to yours for another kiss. vince's hands slide up the backs of your thighs, and then in one quick movement he's hauling you off the ground, wrapping your legs around his hips.

you gasp lightly against his lips, your soaking core bumping his lower stomach and sliding over his defined v-line. vince doesn't stop kissing you, walking you over to the new couch in your makeshift living room. there's still a few boxes pilled on top of your coffee table, and there's loose clothes thrown over the back of the chair from when you'd been sorting through suitcases earlier.

the room is casted in the moonlights glow and the warm light under your microwave. it makes everything feel soft—makes it feel private and hot. vince drops you against the plush cushions, and you squeal happily.

vince smirks, "how's the couch?"

you take your bottom lip into your mouth, watching with lustful eyes as he begins undoing his button, tugging down his zipper and releasing some of the confinement against his hard bulge. "it's perfect."

his brow quirks up in amusement. "perfect huh?" vince asks, pulling of his jeans completely. he retrieves his wallet from his back pocket before throwing the pants behind him—making you giggle.

you hum in response as vince pulls out a square foil package from his wallet. a condom.

he smirks, leaning over your body. "wanna know what else is perfect?" vince asks lowly. your mouth opens as a quick breath leaves you, but vince isn't actually waiting for a response. two of his long, thick fingers trace over your collarbone and brush against your pulse point. "your skin is perfect."

then those two fingers flow down to your sternum and tease around your breasts—tracing over your nipples with just enough pressure to have you whining. "and these tits." vince trails down to your belly, passing over your hip bones. "and these hips." next is your core, his fingers slipping through your wet folds. "and god this pussy is perfect."

and with the cherry on top, vince slips the same two fingers he's been running along your body into your entrance. the squelch your walls make sound his fingers is intoxicating, and you practically scream out. "tell me what feels good baby." he tells you, eyes reluctantly leaving your pussy where you take his pumping fingers, and flickering to your warm face.

you begin babbling, making a mess around his hand— dripping off his fingers as he continues to thrust into you. "god," you let out a sharp gasp, walls squeezing his fingers and stopping him momentarily. "this...your fingers feel really good."

vince smirks, and he thrusts his fingers into you a few more times—each time rougher than the last. he feels like he's going to combust with the sight of you under him, withering and whining like you've never been touched like this…maybe you haven't been touched like this before. pride swells in his chest at the thought.

vince’s impossibly hard cock twitches uncomfortably in his boxers—if he doesn't get inside you soon he's going to die. in a fluid motion, he is pulling his fingers out of your warmth.

you mewl in protest, but vince is too busy ripping open the condom package and then pulling himself from his underwear to hear your cry. his dick hears the sound though, and it throbs—ready.

vince rolls the latex on expertly, and he lines his red tip up with your slippery entrance. your hips shift, and his head slips inside your entrance—both of your groaning loudly at the feeling.

vince pulls back out, and a devilish smirk grows on his face as you huff all horny and frustrated. "what happened to the shy vince from earlier?" your tone is slightly whiny, but he can tell you're teasing him—your small hands wrapping around his ribs and torso.

"he's not feeling so shy with your pretty face under him." with that, vince pushes his cock into you. the stretch is heavenly, and your walls mold against him like second nature. you moan, nails digging into his pale skin as he comes to a hilt—balls resting against your ass and tip brushing your cervix.

"that okay?" he asks you breathlessly—dazed eyes flickering over your blotchy skin and puffy, parted lips. he can't help but let his gaze fall between your bodies, right down to where you're connected. vince's hips jerk involuntarily at the sight of your creamy walls holding him in, and you whine pathetically at the feeling.

"so good, vince. oh my god." you probably look like a pornstar on your couch right now. vince buried into your dripping entrance with your legs spread wide, heels still on because you'd been too horny to remember to take them off. but as vince begins rolling his hips into you, all thoughts die out, and you can only focus on him.

his pace picks up quickly, much to your satisfaction, pounding you into the couch like he knows nothing else but your pussy. vince's breath fans over your neck and ear, sending shivers down your spine as you hold onto him.

"fuuuccckk, that's—yeah that's good baby." vince groans deeply, hips snapping against yours loudly, the sound echoing in your otherwise quite apartment. "that's right, taking me so well."

his cock rams into you quickly and perfectly, ilicting another round of ridiculously loud moans from you. you're too wound up to even respond properly, your words coming out in a jumbled string of curses and groans. the couch squeaks under his unfaltering thrusts.

your eyes pinch shut, and the grip on vince tightens as your walls begin to flutter—an all too familiar pattern as you near a desperately needed orgasm. "please." you whine breathlessly. you don't even know what you're asking him for, but it doesn't matter—not to you and not to vince.

his thrusts don't stop or slow, his balls smacking your ass as he continues to pound you into the cushions. vince curses, pushing one of your legs against your chest to open your pussy up even further. "you gunna cum, y/n?"

you nod quickly, your head pushing further back into the couch pillows as your walls clamp down on his cock. "yeah! oh my fuck, yes. i'm cumming."

vince hisses at the feeling of your release— gooey, warm walls squeezing and fluttering over his length. "holy fucking—ugh." it has vince following suit, stilling as he groans into your neck and shooting his sticky load into the latex protection.

it could be 2 minutes or 15–you're not sure—but vince's body is so heavy and warm on top of you that it has your eyes closing. he presses a kiss to your jawline, lifting himself off you. "you okay?"

you nod sleepy, a lazy grin on your glistening lips. "mhmmm. i'm tired now."

vince chuckles, pulling out of your spent pussy. you whine for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, watching through tired eyes as vince ties off the used condom, padding into your kitchen and tossing the latex in your garbage. he tucks himself pack into his boxers as he gets back onto the couch—kneeling between your legs and slipping of your heels.

you wrap your arms over his shoulders, and he kisses you. this kiss is different—softer and sweeter, but just as good as all the others you've shared tonight. you pull away, "stay the night."

he grins, "i'll stay as long as you want me too."

he's so fucking cute, you think blissfully.

vince pulls the throw blanket off the back of your couch, tossing it over both of your bodies as he tucks himself behind you on the couch. his torso is warm and wide against your back—it's so comfortable and soft, and your eyes begin closing soon after.

—

your phone is ringing.

that's the first thing you register as your eyes flutter open. you squint at the harsh morning light streaming through your windows, looking around for the pesty ringing device to silence it.

behind you, vince's arm tightens around your waist, his semi-hard cock rolling against your bare ass instinctively. memories of the night before flood your mind, and you feel hot all over again.

he groans, tucking his head into your shoulder.

your phone is still ringing. you sigh, locating it on the floor beside the coffee table. you pick it up, and your eyes widen at your brothers contact photo lighting up your screen—it's some goofy .5 picture you took of him at christmas. you were supposed to be at his place for breakfast 10 minutes ago.

"shit!" you curse.

vince's eyes flicker open at your panicked tone, and he catches sight of the incoming call before you answer it—jumping off the couch, stark naked and nearly tripping over your heels as you dart into your bedroom.

you throw on the first thing you can find as matty's voice filters through your speakers. "did you fall off a cliff on the way here?"

"I overslept," you say, dragging your ratty hairbrush through your sex messy hair. it gets caught on at angle and you wince. "i'm just about to leave."

matty says something else that sounds like see you soon, but you're too distracted by everything to hear him properly. you hang up the phone with a rushed goodbye, shoving it into the pocket of your jeans. you spray an unhealthy amount of body spray over your clothes and hair, hopefully masking the scent of sex.

you dart back out into the living room. "i'm so sorry, I have to meet my brother for—why do you look like you're about to puke?"

vince is sitting up, posture ridged. his complexion in pale, more so than usual, and he's got his hands cupped over his mouth in a prayer like position. "he's your brother?"

your brows furrow in confusion. "yeah, i'm supposed to meet him for breakfast." the look on vince’s face contorts into what looks like pain, and it has you faltering, stomach dropping to your ass. "why?"

vince's eyes flicker to yours, and he drops his hands from his face. "we play hockey together. i'm matty's roommate."

for fucks sake.

[svtiddiess-reads]

My live reactions under the cut hehe 💜

He stood a few meters away from you, a smug grin on his face as not even a single piece of food was on him.

HE’S SO COCKY I ALREADY LOVE HIM

“The two of you have to get over this grudge, or whatever the fuck is going on between you two. I don’t care if you do it by talking it out or fucking it out, but please. Just get it done.”

AYO CHEOL??? 🤨🤨 I meann…if you say so 🤪

You had celebrated with Seungcheol—dinner, a movie, and you on all fours getting what you deserve.

It is indeed what I deserve 😌

“Congrats, you two are the finalists for the internship position,” he said, his sheer lack of enthusiasm almost comical. 

Vernon I love you so much 😭😭

His woohoo sounded as dry as leaves in summer. 

Sobbing 😭😭

Pretty little things?! 

If Jeonghan calls me a pretty little thing, then I am indeed a pretty little thing (I’m a simp for him 😔)

“Believe me, princess, this quiz and the finish line would be the only things I’d finish first. In any other situation and especially in the one you’re thinking of right now, I would make sure to be the last to finish. I’d make sure you finish first, quicker and better than anyone else before."

OKAY HANNIEEE 🤭🤭

“Are you turned on right now, hm? Wish for me to touch you? Maybe do what Seungcheol asked of us?”

YES PLS FUCK ME 😩😩

“Stop talking, just fuck me, please.” 

YESSS DADDY CHEOLLLL FUCK ME PLSSSS

There were going to be marks left on his back, you were sure of it. Your nails dragged along his smooth skin as he fucked you, the windows slowly but surely beginning to fog up. 

I’ll make sure to mark him up real good 🤭🤭

“You like that, hm? Getting fucked in the university parking lot? Couldn’t even wait ‘til we got home, my little slut?”

I am indeed Cheol’s slut 🤪

“Did you… just say Jeonghan’s name?”

OH SHI- 😳

He had even brought it up the next time you had sex, asking if you wished Jeonghan was here to see how good you were behaving for him.

Cheol don’t threaten me with a good time 😤

(It didn’t matter at all that you had cried out a yes and begged Seungcheol to let Jeonghan watch you get fucked. No, that wasn’t important at all!)

🤭🤭

“Best sex of your life, huh?” He walked over to Seungkwan, catching him off guard.

I’m giggling like a maniac rn 🤭

“Wanna grab dinner with me?” Vernon asked now, licking over his lips, his eyes darting to Seungkwan’s. 

Aaaaahh!!! I hope they end up tgt!!!

Your face grimaces in confusion. “Excuse me? I’m pretty sure you told the class I was still wetting my bed way before that happened.”

Plsss they’re so petty I love it 😭😭

And then he kissed you. 

SQUEALING!!! AAAAAHHHH!!!!

“Aren’t you a sensitive one,” he whispered, kissing you again. Had kissing always been this fun?

I’M NOT OKAY I’M NOT OKAY I’M NOT OKAY I’M NOT OKAY I’M NOT OKAY

“You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasized about this.” Jeonghan’s voice sounded like music to your ears and you pulled him closer by the nape, pressing another kiss to his mouth.

AAAAAAAHHHHHHH 😩😩😩😩

“Yeah? Like how I fuck you on our professor’s desk? Like a naughty little slut?” 

YES YES YES YES YES YES

“What the actual fuck?!” 

I’M CACKLING LMAOOOO

“I told you so,” Seungcheol said when you finally admitted to Jeonghan being your boyfriend. And when you rolled your eyes and looked at the new addition to the relationship humming a tune in the kitchen, you couldn’t even really be mad at him.

Why settle for 1 bf when you can have 2? 🤪

Before you started dating Seungcheol, you had been best friends with him for all of your life. Simultaneously, Seungcheol has been best friends with Jeonghan - whom you despise. He has been your rival since first grade and not just in terms of Seungcheol’s friendship but everything else too. Academics, sports, and now the attention of one very special professor who could open every door you ever wished to open…

Pairing: Seungcheol x Fem!Reader x Jeonghan Genre: Smut, Comedy, established relationship, enemies/rivals to lovers, academic rivals, Warnings: Mentions of food, Jeonghan and reader are mean to each other (lol), pet names (sweetheart, darling, princess), poly themes  Smut Warnings: Car sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, creampie, manhandling, degradation (usage of the word: slut) Word Count: 7.2k Rating: Mature/Explicit A/N: Hello, hello! This one goes out to @svtiddiess! I am your secret valentine, hehe. I hope you like it!! Had so much fun writing this so thank you for hosting this fun collab @ddeonghwa-s, you were amazing at organizing it <3 Also big shoutouts to my beta readers: @c-oupsie, @chanranghaeys & @gyubakeries, I loved all of your comments and input, thank you so much! and of course, once again big thanks to @aaagustd for the absolute masterpiece of a banner!

The cake smashing into your face was vanilla-flavoured. Most of it dropped to the floor two seconds after hitting you, but there was still a good amount of cream left all over your face. 

How wonderful.

More cakes were flying around the room, joined by other types of food and you moved aside to shove the remaining dessert off your face, knowing exactly who had thrown it at you and started this whole thing. 

Yoon fucking Jeonghan. 

He stood a few meters away from you, a smug grin on his face as not even a single piece of food was on him. It looked like a shot in a music video; so many different dishes flying above and behind him, cupcakes and hors d'oeuvres, and even a whole lasagna. Somehow, none were aimed at him and none missed their target. 

Shaking with rage, you looked to your side and found a perfectly fine-looking dish of tiramisu standing on the table. You grinned as you picked it up. 

Jeonghan watched the tiramisu fly. He wasn’t quick enough to move out of the way as it landed right where you had aimed—his annoyingly pretty face. 

“What on earth is going on?!” Seungcheol’s voice disrupted the moment and you were snapped out of the trance you’ve been in. Instead, it made room for the bitter reality of about 30 students throwing around and wasting perfectly fine food. 

The towel in your lap was full of vanilla cream and felt extremely heavy - just like the rest of you. Seungcheol was pacing back and forth, his arms crossed and one hand resting on his chin. He looked troubled, he was troubled, and for good reason. His best friend and his girlfriend had once again proven themselves as nutcases. 

“Just—” you started, but one look from him and you shut your mouth, pressing your lips together tightly. Your eyes quickly shot to Jeonghan sitting on the other side of the small office with a bored expression on his face. 

Oh, great. Your relationship was crumbling and he was bored!

“So, let me get this straight.” Seungcheol finally began speaking and your eyes darted back to him.

“I leave the reception for my graduation for five minutes and you two start a food fight?”

“He started it!” 

“You made me!”

“Oh my god!” Seungcheol threw his hands in the air. “Frankly, I don’t care who started this. All I care about is that I needed the two of you to behave like human beings around each other just for one evening. I just wanted to take my girlfriend out for this special occasion and have my best friend join us without any drama. Just once!” 

His eyes were burning on your skin and you couldn’t help but lower your gaze, feeling your cheeks heat up from shame. He was right. 

“Look, Cheol, I love you and all, but did you really think this was gonna work?” Jeonghan sighed, getting up from his chair and throwing the used towel on top of it, “She infuriates me just by existing.”

What a fucking douche. 

Seungcheol took a deep breath.

“Jeonghan. You’re my best friend, you know that. But she’s my girlfriend and I truly do not give a fuck about any past rivalries. I just…god, I just need you two to act like adults. If not for the sake of each other then at least for the sake of me!” 

The scoff Jeonghan let out made your blood boil. You knew Seungcheol was right and the fact that Jeonghan was so blatantly ignoring that… 

You stood up as well, stalking over to the two men.

“I’m sorry, Cheol. You’re right. This wasn’t okay, we shouldn’t have started a food fight.”

Carefully, you tried to reach for his hand, but he hesitated, his pretty eyes not yet convinced. 

“The two of you have to get over this grudge, or whatever the fuck is going on between you two. I don’t care if you do it by talking it out or fucking it out, but please. Just get it done.”

He turned around then, walking out of the room and slamming the door behind him. 

It was silent for a while, just you and Jeonghan staring at the door with your jaws dropped and your cheeks hot. Did Seungcheol just—did he really say that? Something you couldn’t really describe began to form in your stomach, something like an ache mixed with need, and you began to shift from one foot to the other, not daring to look at Jeonghan. 

Only when the man left in the room began to speak, did you let yourself gaze upon him.

“Did he really just suggest we fuck it out?” He asked, his head slowly turning to face you. 

“Yup.” You nodded. 

“Does he—? Do you—does that like, ever happen?” He continued, scratching the back of his neck.

“What? That I fuck someone I hate?” Your eyebrows rose and Jeonghan rolled his eyes.

“No, dumbass, that you fuck other people, period.”

“I don’t think that’s any of your concern.” Fiercely, you turned back around and walked over to the chair you sat on earlier, grabbing your purse.

“My best friend just offered me to fuck his girlfriend, I think it does concern me.”

Throwing your purse over your shoulder, you let out a scoff. 

“Don’t be silly, Jeonghan,” you moved back to him, your eyes meeting his with a small smirk on your lips, “we both know you can’t handle me.”

Jeonghan’s mouth dropped once more, watching you, the girl he despised more than anything, walk out of the room and leave him with absolutely nothing to say. 

Two weeks later, Seungcheol had finally gotten over the whole ordeal at his graduation reception. No one had really figured out who had started the food fight, so a punishment for the students had fallen through. Instead, cleaning personnel had been called in to get rid of the mess in the Eisenhower ballroom. Perks of attending a private university. 

Getting your usual vanilla matcha latte from the small coffee shop inside the economics building, you listened to your best friend Seungkwan’s story about this guy he met at a club who just so happened to become the best one-night stand of his life.

“You don’t understand,” he said, “I need to see him again or I will die!” 

Chuckling, you thanked the barista handing you your drinks.

“I doubt you’ll die, Kwan.”

He sighed.

“No, I will, I swear. How can I go on like this? Knowing I’ll never get dicked down that good again?”

“You didn’t get his insta or something?” Pushing open the door, you were greeted by the mild air of spring. 

“No! That’s the issue, he doesn’t do two-night stands. He literally just fucks once and dips.”

You clicked your tongue. 

“Sorry to hear that. Oh, did I tell you I finally heard back from Professor Jones?”

Professor William Percival Jones was the professor for international management. No one had ever come close to his level of expertise in the last twenty years. It was every student’s dream to be accepted into his internship program which only held one spot every semester. And while this term was almost over, the spot for the next had suddenly been posted again, so of course you had to apply!

Seungkwan didn’t seem too happy about the change of topic but he allowed it considering how important the whole Professor Jones topic was to you.

“And?” He asked, taking a sip from his white chocolate mocha. 

“I’m in the next round!” You grinned widely, remembering the e-mail you got just last night. You had celebrated with Seungcheol—dinner, a movie, and you on all fours getting what you deserve.

“Congrats, bestie!” Seungkwan gave you a side hug, smiling at you, “You deserve it. Do you know who else is in the run?”

You shook your head. “Not yet. Gonna find out later this afternoon for the interview prep. But I’m not too worried about competition. How good can they be?”

Yoon fucking Jeonghan was the one to greet you when you walked into the interview prep room at 4pm sharp. Of fucking course.

“Oh, Y/N, fancy seeing you here,” his smirk told you well enough he already knew you were coming. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mumbled as you sat down on the chair next to him. There was no one else here besides the two of you. 

“We’re the only two people who made it to round two,” Jeonghan explained, crossing his legs, “didn’t Cheol tell you?”

Cheol knew?! It was by pure self-restraint you didn’t jump Jeonghan and strangle him. 

“I fear he forgot with all the sex he got last night,” you put on your most innocent smile, “How’s that going for you by the way?”

Jeonghan didn’t even seem fazed by your words. He just looked at you with yet another one of his bored expressions.

“How cute of you to think I don’t get to fuck whomever I like.”

Something about the way he said those words…they brought back that feeling from two weeks ago, when Seungcheol had asked you two to fuck it out if necessary. Clearing your throat, you averted your gaze, hating yourself for the way your cheeks began to heat up. 

Thankfully, Jeonghan didn’t get to say anything else when the door opened and Professor Jones’ current intern walked in. You thought to remember his name being Vernon. He stalked over to the desk at the front, basically throwing his bag onto it.

“Congrats, you two are the finalists for the internship position,” he said, his sheer lack of enthusiasm almost comical. 

He leaned against the desk now, a stack of papers in his hands. You watched him with slightly raised brows, wondering how on earth he got this job when he, judging from what you’re seeing right now, doesn’t even want to be here. 

“The interview process won’t be as lengthy as it usually is, considering it’s already for next term. Please don’t ask me why Professor Jones isn’t just asking the intern for the term after to take over, it truly is beyond me. Anyway, it will still be hard and time-consuming. Normally, it would be at least one month of tasks you need to hand in, research, as well as possible curriculum changes. Anything innovative, basically.” 

Vernon returned to you and Jeonghan, giving both of you half of the stack of papers he’d been holding. 

“This file is basically your timetable as well as your tasks for the next two weeks. I hope you don’t have any other deadlines left this term or you’re, how should I say this, fucked.” He presented you with something like a pained smile. You felt the strange need to pat his head. 

“Is that all?” Jeonghan asked, still that god-forsaken bored tone in his voice. Vernon shook his head, walking back over to the desk. 

“Nope. Still got a surprise up my sleeve,” he turned around and opened his bag, pulling out yet another little stack of papers. Jesus, couldn’t they have e-mailed? What about the trees?

“Surprise quiz, woohoo.” 

His woohoo sounded as dry as leaves in summer. 

“Are you serious?” Jeonghan snorted, “A quiz?”

“Yup. To evaluate your knowledge on all things international management.”

Vernon handed out the two pages each (with the backs also containing questions) to the two of you and checked his watch.

“You have forty-five minutes. Good luck.”

It was worse enough being in almost every class with Jeonghan, but having to be in the same interview process was definitely going to take the cake. It had barely even started and it already felt like a competition—who was gonna finish the quiz first and who was going to do better? 

Time seemed to fly by; answering all the questions to your best ability while checking on how far Jeonghan was, or at least estimating, considering he wasn’t close enough for you to get a good look at his paper. 

“Five minutes left,” Vernon said then, sitting comfortably at the desk, his legs on top of it. He had been scrolling through his phone the whole time, once again making you question how on earth he had gotten this job. Had he really been through this same process? Seemed highly unlikely, if you were honest.

Quickly, you checked your answers again to see if you really hadn’t missed anything in terms of spelling, grammar, or content. 

Just as you were about to get up, Jeonghan one-upped you and handed in his finished quiz to Vernon with one swift motion. Fuck those gorgeous long legs.

Grinding your teeth, you got up as well, giving Vernon your quiz approximately two seconds after Jeonghan. You tried to ignore the gloating look on his handsome face.

“Great. You’re dismissed then. I’ll email you about the results sometime tomorrow.”

How specific. Without saying goodbye, you grabbed your bag from the floor next to your desk, beginning to walk out and groaning when Jeonghan suddenly appeared right next to you.

“And once again I beat you. Doesn’t it get tiresome to always lose against me, sweetheart?”

Pure red anger made its way through your system. 

“Doesn’t it get tiresome to always be an asshole, sweetheart?” 

Jeonghan laughed raspily and for whatever reason you felt it right there in the lower part of your stomach. “Oh, darling. Assholes make it the furthest in life, haven’t you heard? They also finish quizzes first and leave pretty little things like you behind.”

Pretty little things?! 

The two of you had barely made it out of the classroom when you swirled around to face him, your eyebrows knitted together and clear anger displayed on your face.

“Never would have guessed you’re proud of finishing first, Yoon,” you smiled, “but looking at you, I’m not surprised you are.”

He was in your space before you could blink.

“Believe me, princess, this quiz and the finish line would be the only things I’d finish first. In any other situation and especially in the one you’re thinking of right now, I would make sure to be the last to finish. I’d make sure you finish first, quicker and better than anyone else before."

Oh. 

What?

Jeonghan’s lips were right by your ear and his hands found their place on the small of your back, and it was embarrassing how much this turned you on. 

“You—You’re disgusting,” you somehow stuttered out and Jeonghan smirked again, parting from you and meeting his gaze with yours.

“Sure I am, Y/N. But so are you, isn’t that right?” 

God, if only he would take those damn hands off your body and go far, far away. And if only you could speak, open your mouth, and say anything, really, anything at all! But it was like he had caught you in a trap, made you forget all your words and thoughts and replaced them with want. 

“I love to see that I still have an effect on you, darling.” His face was so slapable right now. Smirk and arrogance and hotness that made you wanna scream.

“Are you turned on right now, hm? Wish for me to touch you? Maybe do what Seungcheol asked of us?” His breath on your face was almost enough for you to snap and just give in. But this urge was foreign. Foreign because it never made it past the wet dreams you immediately suppressed once you woke up. Never in a million years were you going to let him win, never would you ever let him know he did in fact have this effect on you, even now, even when you were with Seungcheol.

“Fuck off.” Finally, you managed to push him away. It wasn’t exactly with grace how you ran away from him, leaving him behind with the smirk never leaving his lips and the heat never leaving your body.

The heat hadn’t left you even an hour later when you found yourself in the backseat of Seungcheol’s car, his cock straining against his jeans and your thigh. 

“Fuck, baby, what got you so worked up?” Cheol groaned when you bit his earlobe and shoved his jeans down finally. 

“Stop talking, just fuck me, please.” 

Your lips met his again and Cheol was happy to oblige. His huge hands grabbed your hips and pushed you further back, easily slipping between your thighs. He was bare now except for his briefs and he placed his bulge right between your drenched lips. The friction caused you to moan and gush another wave of slick into your panties.

Your boyfriend moved to shove his fingers beneath the fabric, swearing when he felt just how wet you were. Still obeying you, he didn’t say anything and instead pressed two of his fingers into you. You arched your back, your fingers finding the back of his neck.

“God, yes.” 

He began to thrust into you with his fingers, lips finding yours once more as he shoves his tongue into your mouth. You happily accepted him, your own tongue beginning a fiery dance with his, all thoughts of Jeonghan slowly ebbing away. 

Just that when you thought about how they were ebbing away…his words suddenly came right back to you.

“Are you turned on right now, hm? Wish for me to touch you? Maybe do what Seungcheol asked of us?”

Shit, he was so hot. So hot and infuriating and, fuck, Seungcheol just hit your sweet spot perfectly. You whimpered, nails digging into his skin and he chuckled lowly against your lips.

“Need your cock, please, please, please.”

Your desperation was out of the roof and Seungcheol felt himself twitch in his briefs, shoving them down the next second. His cock sprung free, angry and red at the tip with drops of precum inviting you to take it into your mouth. But there was no time, no, you needed to get this out of your system now.

You moved your fingers down, shoving your panties down your legs.

“God, so eager, my love,” Seungcheol smirked, jerking his cock off as he watched you. 

“Yeah, need you now, Cheolie, please.” You panted, and when he finally lined up his tip with your core, it almost felt like an ascension to you. 

As he pushed his whole length into you, Cheol wondered how it could feel this good every fucking time. Your pussy gripped him right away, sucked him in, made him feel like no other ever had. You were perfect for him, that was for sure.

When he thrusted for the first time, you moaned his name loudly, which only spurred him on. His hands grabbed your hips and your legs found their way around his back, his hips now beginning to move at a relentless pace. If you wanted to be fucked, oh he would gladly fulfill that want. 

There were going to be marks left on his back, you were sure of it. Your nails dragged along his smooth skin as he fucked you, the windows slowly but surely beginning to fog up. 

“Yes, fuck, just like that!” You cried out when he hit that sensitive part within you perfectly. He groaned and nodded, trying his best to continue fucking you just like that. 

“You like that, hm? Getting fucked in the university parking lot? Couldn’t even wait ‘til we got home, my little slut?”

“N-no! Couldn’t wait, needed your cock right now, Cheolie!” 

You said his name and had his cock inside of you, and while you loved him and the way he fucked you—right now, you weren’t really thinking about him. It was horrible and wrong, but you couldn’t help but wonder about Jeonghan and his words. He had said he’d be able to make you come better and quicker than anyone else. Was that true? Could he fuck you better than Seungcheol did right now? Hold you down the way Seungcheol was, drag his cock along your walls at the same speed and with the same delicious force? 

“Fuck, you’re so tight and wet, baby, gonna make me cum,” Seungcheol moved forward, his hands now next to your head as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, moaning and groaning at the way you felt around him. 

Would Jeonghan sound like that? Desperate and breathless as he fucked you? The image of Jeonghan on top of you filled your mind and made your breath hitch, your pussy squeezing hard around Seungcheol and bringing him over the edge, his cock twitching as he thrusted once, twice, and finally emptying inside of you. Ropes of white painted your insides, leaving you hot and wanting more. Thankfully, Cheol didn’t stop, no, he picked up the pace once more and finally, with the thought of Jeonghan cumming inside of you, you felt your orgasm rush over you, a high-pitched moan accompanying your high. 

Cheol collapsed on top of you, both of your chests heaving. 

Then, after some silence, Cheol slowly raised his head.

“Did you… just say Jeonghan’s name?”

The first task on your and Jeonghan’s list was easy enough: prepare a presentation on a specific topic and present it in front of Professor Jones, Vernon, and your competitor. Professor Jones had picked out topics for the two of you which made the whole ordeal even easier. No research of your own for a perfect topic, just good old finding information on the web and in the library.

The distraction was welcome, especially after that horrific incident in Seungcheol’s car where you had, well, done what you did. The thing about it that irked you the most was that Seungcheol wasn’t even mad at you. No, he had laughed at you. Laughed for days. He had even brought it up the next time you had sex, asking if you wished Jeonghan was here to see how good you were behaving for him. Like, hello? How could he do this to you! 

(It didn’t matter at all that you had cried out a yes and begged Seungcheol to let Jeonghan watch you get fucked. No, that wasn’t important at all!)

You threw yourself into work for three days straight, the fourth being the day of the presentation. And it all went perfectly, smoothly even, without any problems - until the day of the presentation came and the powerpoint on the screen was not the powerpoint you had worked on for hours on end. 

Projected onto the whiteboard in front of one of your idols, Vernon, and Jeonghan was a presentation that most likely had been made by a fourth-grader. Rainbow-colored Comic Sans wrote out the topic with pictures of unicorns around it forming a heart. This has got to be a joke.

And when you looked at your small audience, horrified and confused, you asked yourself how you hadn’t figured this out right away.

Jeonghan was smiling. Smiling as evil as the devil, if not worse. He had done this—swapped out your presentation at some point when you hadn’t been looking. Ice runs through your veins when you remember last night at the library, when you had left to go to the bathroom one more time before heading home, your laptop still propped on the desk. Jeonghan had been there too, further away, but not too far to come over and switch out presentations while you were gone. 

You were going to kill him. 

“Miss, what exactly am I looking at right now?” Professor Jones asked, adjusting the specs on top of his nose. You opened your mouth but closed it again. 

“I—Sir, this is, uhm—” You sure as hell couldn't just blame Jeonghan. There was no proof and you’d sound absolutely bonkers. So, instead you clicked the next slide and found the table of contents. It had the same font and colors as the slide before, the transition between this and the last slide being a tornado. Oh good fucking lord.

Professor Jones wasn’t happy and didn’t let you finish the presentation. Instead, Jeonghan was the one to outshine you right away and you felt like your whole life was over. 

But it wasn’t over. Neither your life nor this interview process and there was only one way to go on. 

This meant war. 

Jeonghan stood in front of you and Vernon, and Professor Jones was going off on him. You tried your very best to hide the smirk wanting to creep onto your lips. 

“How on earth can it be that you’re sending me pornography, Mr. Yoon, instead of your research essay? Do you even know how inappropriate and unprofessional that is?!” 

Ah yes, if Jeonghan thought he could swap out your presentation without any repercussions, he had thought very, very wrong. One moment of Seungcheol distracting his friend and, voilá, the attachment to his e-mail addressed to Professor Jones was conveniently swapped out to a doc full of naughty pictures. 

“This is a fail, Mr. Yoon, I hope you are aware!” Professor Jones pointed at the free chair and Jeonghwan walked over and sat back down, defeated. 

“How could this happen?” Vernon leaned to the side, looking at Jeonghan with genuine confusion. 

Instead of answering, Jeonghan slowly looked up and turned his head to you. When his eyes met yours, you knew that he was well aware of how that could happen. Giving him a sweet smile, you prepared yourself to present your essay instead of Jeonghan. 

This game between the two of you went on for the rest of the interview process. Jeonghan switched out the documents you were supposed to bring to the professor with a study on infidelity in unhappy marriages, knowing very well that Professor Jones’ wife had cheated on him three years ago. You told Jeonghan the wrong topic for your shared presentation, having him be completely clueless about the actual theme and standing in front of Professor Jonesand Vernon like a fool while you, conveniently, knew everything about each of your parts. 

After that sacred moment of Jeonghan storming out once you were dismissed, you grinned to yourself proudly. Seungkwan walked in just then, looking after Jeonghan with his brows raised. He was well aware of the game you two had going on and was on a bet with Cheol about how long it would take the two of you to finally give in and just do it. 

“I’ll be right there!” You waved at your best friend and he waved back, his eyes roaming the classroom he hadn’t been in before. Just that, besides you, there was another person he surely had been in before. And vice versa. 

“Hansol?” He said, his eyes wide. Hansol—Vernon, looked up from his notes and his eyes widened.

“Seungkwan?” 

Your eyes darted between the two, confusion displayed on your face. How on earth did they know each other? Wait, did he say Hansol?!

Professor Jones bid his goodbyes as well and left the room, just at the right time.

“Vernon is the best sex you’ve ever had?!” You almost yelled in disbelief, your thumb pointing at the intern behind you. 

“Dude!” Seungkwan gave you an annoyed look, obviously asking why the heck you had to air that out in front of him. 

“Wait, Vernon?” His face changed to confusion, much like yours earlier. 

Meanwhile, Hansol-slash-Vernon packed his bag and swung it over his shoulder, a grin on his face.

“Best sex of your life, huh?” He walked over to Seungkwan, catching him off guard.

“I—well,uh,” Seungkwan didn’t know what to answer. He was too mesmerized by seeing him again, the man who had not left his brain, who he could not stop thinking about.

“Wanna grab dinner with me?” Vernon asked now, licking over his lips, his eyes darting to Seungkwan’s. 

“Actually, we—”

“I’d love to!” Seungkwan interrupted you and, without giving you even another look, left the room with Vernon.  

Wow, what about bros before hoes, huh? Oh, well. Not your problem. 

What was your problem, though, was when you stopped in front of the closed door of the usual meeting room two days later and found a note pinned to it, telling you and Jeonghan to meet Professor Jones in his office instead of prep today. 

Shit. 

You arrived after Jeonghan, who was already seated on one of the chairs in front of Professor Jones’ grand mahogany desk. 

“Wonderful, please take a seat.” Professor Jones leaned back in his chair, eyeing you and Jeonghan with one of his eyebrows raised. 

After you did as asked, he clicked his tongue.

“I have been doing this job for twenty years and never during all this time have I encountered a pair quite like you,” he said, “Two of the brightest students in this field, maybe even this university, and yet that fact gets tainted by the rivalry you have going on. I don’t believe you two to be gullible enough to think I wouldn’t notice. Swapping out presentations and attachments to emails? Telling each other lies so the other looks a fool? We’re in university, I shall remind you, not kindergarten.” He rose from his chair. 

“Sir—” Jeonghan began, but Jones held up his hand and made him halt.

“I am sure the two of you would both be capable interns next semester. Judging by the assignments you did hand in, as well as your grades and presentation skills, you might even be the best interns I’ll ever have. Still, this behaviour is unacceptable.”

He walked over to you and Jeonghan, his eyes scanning the two of you with severity.

“Which is why I have decided to let the two of you make that choice for me.”

All the blood drained from your face.

“What do you mean?” You asked, even though you were already sure of the answer. Professor Jones chuckled slightly.

“Oh, I think you already know, Miss. You and Mr. Yoon will decide who gets to be my intern next year. And while you’re at it, you will also resolve whatever problem you have with each other. I give you,” he looked at the clock hanging above the bookcase to your right, “exactly forty-five minutes. Good luck.” 

Just as he was beginning to walk to the door, he turned around again.

“Ah, and if you don’t get to a conclusion, neither of you will become my intern. Just in case you were thinking of a loophole.”

He winked at the two of you, before finally leaving the room and shutting the door behind him. 

Jeonghan and you stayed seated in silence for a while, contemplating the situation. This wasn’t really happening. He didn’t just lock you into his office (no, he did, you definitely heard a key turn) to talk it out.

You hadn’t been alone with Jeonghan since that day when he…well, when he had done that and you had, uh, done Seungcheol. 

“What a cheeky little bastard,” Jeonghan mumbled now, getting out of the chair and pulling his hand over his chin. You watched him walk around the room, trying to ignore the pit in your stomach mixed with the urge to press him against a bookshelf and kiss him breathless. 

You know the pit isn’t because of the fear of Seungcheol being mad at you for these thoughts. No, you know he is totally on board with you and Jeonghan fucking it out and…getting it done. It’s just that in all the years you’ve known Jeonghan he has always been your rival. Starting in first grade and lasting until now. How could you let yourself feel this way about someone you loathed? Or were supposed to loathe? 

“Maybe he’s right,” you found yourself saying, heat back in your face, “Maybe we do need to talk this out.”

“What? Come on, don’t fall for this. This surely is another task. Yeah, I know I am great and I guess you’re fine too, but making this our final task? What the fuck is wrong with him?”

You stood up, hands balling to fists at your sides.

“You guess I’m fine too?” You repeated, scoffing at him, “I know your head is deep up your own ass, but you have got to give me some credit, Jeonghan. If it wasn’t for us having the same capabilities, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

It stung you when he laughed, his hands pulling through his hair.

“Oh really? We’re the same amount of capable? For fuck’s sake, Y/N, you switched out my essay with porn!

”And you switched my presentation out and made it look like a goddamn fourth grader made it!” You threw back at him, your eyes glaring at his face that looks just as angry as you feel.

“At least that didn’t involve fucking porn!”

“Don’t go and paint yourself as the victim, Yoon Jeonghan, you started this whole thing!”

“I did? I started this?!” He laughed again, “You can’t be serious. This is all your fault! You were the one who told Mrs. Perkins I had a cheat sheet underneath my desk in first grade!”

Your face grimaces in confusion. “Excuse me? I’m pretty sure you told the class I was still wetting my bed way before that happened.”

“Absolutely not. That happened after the cheating incident!”

There was nothing else for you to do than scoff time and time again. He was spewing utter nonsense! He had started this whole thing back in elementary school, not you. Definitely not you. 

“I can’t believe you’re trying to pin this on me, Jeonghan, you’re such an asshole.”

“Yeah, we have established that, sweetheart, many, many times before.”

“Stop calling me that,” you took a step forward, your finger pointing at Jeonghan and heat basically radiating off your body. Jeonghan clicked his tongue.

“What? Sweetheart? You don’t like it?” He stepped closer too and just the same amount of heat was radiating off him. 

“Do I look like I like it?” You asked back, staring at his face that somehow came closer with every passing second.

“Do you want me to give you an honest answer to that? Or just lie to keep up the picture that you’re not even slightly attracted to me?”

Your breath got stuck in your throat and your eyes widened at his words. How could he! 

“I am not! I—I am not attracted to you, Yoon Jeonghan, I hate you!”

“Oh, yes, and I hate you.” Somehow he was right in your space then, his breath hitting your face, “But that doesn’t cancel out the fact that I have never wanted anyone as much as I want you.”

And then he kissed you. 

Kissed you with every emotion he had ever felt for you: hate, envy, lust, love. Something within you snapped then, snapped and showed you a whole new world, a world in which this was your normal, your everyday. The realization was soon clouded by pure want, your fingers somehow ending up in his blonde strands, his body pressed flush against yours.

The kiss seemed endless and still not long enough, your hearts beating at the same speed when he pressed you against the large desk behind you. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered when his hands found their way from your back to your face, holding you so lovingly it made your knees weak. 

Then, he changed courses. The softness turned hard, his hands wandering once more, back down and onto your ass, and your core met his, a small gasp escaping against his lips when you felt just how hard the softness had turned. He smirked before he deepened the kiss, pressing his body closer to yours, as close as humanly possibly. 

Never would you have imagined the breaking point to happen inside Professor Jones’ office, and he probably didn’t expect this either when he locked the two of you in. 

Jeonghan’s tongue was exploring your mouth now, licking against your own and causing goosebumps all over your body. So distracted by his lips, you only faintly noticed him lifting you onto the desk, neither of you caring about the cup with pens falling over when your ass hit the surface. 

He stood in between your legs now, hands roaming over your legs while his mouth moved over your lips down to your chin and finally along your neck. Softly moaning, you shoved his jacket off his shoulders, waiting for it to hit the ground before you began to unbutton his dark green dress shirt. He sucked on your skin, licked over the spot and moved on, nimble fingers moving underneath your skirt to touch your sensitive skin.

“How wet are you right now, sweetheart?” He breathed then, a shiver running down your spine.

Not waiting for you to answer, he let his fingers slip underneath your soaked panties, his breath getting stuck in his throat when he felt how drenched you were.

“Fuck.” His lips found yours again, pulling you into yet another perfectly heated kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you pushed your hips forward, inviting him to fill you with his fingers. Really, you needed him to touch you or you’d probably die on the spot. 

As if he had read your mind, he let his fingers glide through your folds before finally letting one of them sink into you, licking over your lips when he did and making you cry out in pleasure.

“Aren’t you a sensitive one,” he whispered, kissing you again. Had kissing always been this fun?

He began to thrust his finger inside you slowly, your panties being slightly in the way. Only when you began to whimper desperately, did Jeonghan take a few seconds to pull them down your legs, all while holding eye contact. You feared he was a little insane. 

Back between your thighs, his hand grabbed the back of your neck, pushing you against him. Another kiss lured you into his embrace and your body began to shake when his other hand reached your core again, fingers softly sliding through your lips. 

“Please, Jeonghan, please,” you pleaded against his lips then and he bit down on his own bottom lip when he finally pushed in two of his pretty long fingers. Your moan was only held back because he kissed you. 

The pace changed yet again. He fucked you hard and fast with his fingers, while his tongue danced with yours, all of your thoughts consumed by him and him and only him. But you wanted more, wanted him fully, wanted to feel him inside you. Feel him throbbing and wanting and twitching. And so, your hands moved to his belt, quickly opening it as if you had done this a million times before. 

He didn’t respond verbally, instead he helped you shove down his pants and briefs, his hard cock springing free. You allowed yourself to part from him for a second, admiring his length and biting down on your lip. The second was over soon enough when Jeonghan pulled his fingers out of you and instead grabbed his cock, bringing it to your dripping, waiting core. 

“You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasized about this.” Jeonghan’s voice sounded like music to your ears and you pulled him closer by the nape, pressing another kiss to his mouth.

“I think I have an idea.” You grinned.

When he sank into you, his eyes were still fixed on yours and both your mouths hung open, ragged breathing coming out of them. And when he finally bottomed out, his forehead pressed against yours, neither of you could stop the moans from coming out. 

His first thrust made the desk shake and the ones that followed did too. He felt insanely good inside you, filling you up just the perfect amount. The air around you felt hot and you held on for dear life, fingers digging into his nape as he fucked you rough and hard, hands on the small of your back. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he breathed, lips finding your neck again. You threw your head back, legs fully wrapping around his waist now, his cock seeming to sink even deeper into you.

“And you fuck me so good,” you replied in a moan and he groaned, picking up the pace. 

Not even for a second did either of you question the sounds of the desk, maybe causing people outside to be concerned. Too focused were the two of you on the way it felt to finally give into the tension that had built up for years and years.

“Yeah? Like how I fuck you on our professor’s desk? Like a naughty little slut?” 

“Fuck, yeah,” Your pussy clenched around him and he chuckled, another hard thrust making the desk shake. 

He was relentless, perfect, and just…everything. Maybe it was all of the anticipation or maybe it was just the insane arousal, but it felt better than almost anything you had ever felt. 

You couldn’t stop the moans and the pleas for more, couldn’t help the climax that was nearing with every thrust. And when he brought his thumb down and began rubbing circles onto your clit, you most certainly couldn’t help the orgasm rushing over your body, your pussy spasming around his cock over and over again, begging him to fill you, to pump his cum into your awaiting heat. 

Jeonghan came inside of you after three more thrusts and just in time for the door to open and Professor Jones hurrying in, Vernon in tow. 

“What the actual fuck?!” 

You had never heard the Professor curse before. You doubted anyone had ever heard him curse before. Well, shit.

Neither you nor Jeonghan ended up getting the internship, which was fine. All that really mattered was that Jones didn’t tell the dean and had you expelled. Perhaps Vernon had convinced him that it was basically his fault, too. If he hadn’t locked you in, you wouldn’t have fucked on his desk. Simple as that. 

And in reality, Professor Jones wasn’t the scary part about the whole story, it was the fact you and Jeonghan had fucked and not just fucked but also felt as you fucked. So, yeah. It hadn’t been just sexual tension between the two of you. As much as you would have pretended it was, you couldn’t really do that anymore. 

Not when he began to spend more time with Seungcheol and you, not when Seungcheol was so clearly on board with the idea of Jeonghan being a part of your life the same way he was. You had never allowed yourself to think of the situation with Jeonghan as anything more than attraction, and having this now…it felt like all the puzzle pieces had suddenly found their way together. 

“I told you so,” Seungcheol said when you finally admitted to Jeonghan being your boyfriend. And when you rolled your eyes and looked at the new addition to the relationship humming a tune in the kitchen, you couldn’t even really be mad at him.

[terzomega]

i only need to do the. idk beta reading process ig for the next one. if u even care

[tsukumomei]

—PUPPY LOVE || AO3

ft. Sae Itoshi

summary: rin swears the new girl makes “nii chan’s face light up”. sae smiles more, and spends time with her like it’s no big deal. their parents don’t notice, but rin can tell she makes sae happier, even if it’s a little annoying. wc. 2.2k

a/n: just a cute fic I thought of cause of that one additional time of the itoshi brothers “nii chan’s frame of mind”

right where we left off

Rin didn’t like her at first, not that he did now.

She showed up at the park one day, just standing there with her ball and staring like she wanted to join their game. She didn’t even ask, just yelled, “Pass it to me!” like she owned the place. Her voice cut through the sound of their cleats against the grass. Rin froze mid-step. No one talked to his big brother like that.

To Rin’s surprise, his brother’s gaze fell on her, and Rin could almost see the gears turning in his head.

Nii chan didn’t yell at her. He didn’t tell her to leave. He tilted his head slightly and nudged the ball her way with his foot. Rin frowned.

That was it. The first domino fell.

She wasn’t even good. She ran weird, her kicks were all over the place, and she tripped more than she scored. Rin thought nii chan would get annoyed, but he didn’t. He actually helped her. He showed her how to dribble and even taught her how to do some of the moves Rin was still practicing. It wasn’t fair!

Then there was the rainy day. Rin was sure they’d stay inside—no one played soccer in the mud, not even nii chan. But when Y/N showed up wearing her rain boots and grinning, nii chan grabbed a ball and followed her outside. Rin had no choice but to tag along. They ended up having the messiest, weirdest game of soccer ever, with Y/N sliding in the mud and nii chan actually laughing when she fell.

But what really annoyed Rin was how nii chan acted around her. His face was different. When Y/N was around, he looked... relaxed. And sometimes, he even smiled. Not his usual smirk when he wins, but a real smile.

It wasn’t like nii chan to be this way. Rin knew his brother better than anyone. Nii chan is the coolest, and he always looks ahead. 

But with Y/N, it was like he slowed down just enough to let her catch up.

One time, Rin saw them sitting under the big tree at the park. Y/N was talking a lot, waving her hands around and laughing, and he just sat there, listening. He didn’t even tell her to stop talking, which was weird because Sae hated when people talked too much.

Even at home, she was there sometimes. She’d come for dinner, and always ended up next to Sae. She’d laugh at nii chan’s jokes and he’d give her the last piece of karaage like it was nothing. 

Their parents didn’t notice, of course. Mom just said it was nice Sae had a “little fan,”and Dad said it was good for Sae to teach someone else; it would “build character.” Rin wanted to tell them they were wrong, but he didn’t know how to explain it. If only they saw what he did.

It wasn’t just about soccer. Y/N wasn’t like the other kids. She wasn’t scared of nii chan, and she didn’t try to impress him like everyone else. She just... acted like he was normal. And somehow, that made nii chan act normal, too.

Rin didn’t understand it fully, but he could tell Y/N was different. She was the only one who could make nii chan stay longer at the park, the only one who could get him to drop his guard. And as much as Rin hated to admit it, there was something kind of cool about that.

By the end of the summer, Rin still didn’t like how much time they spent with each other. 

But even if it was annoying, it wasn’t so bad to see nii chan smile.

—

Rin is eight now, and Sae is ten, and it was Valentine’s Day—the most annoying day of the year, at least to Rin.

When Sae opened his locker, chocolates and notes spilled out onto the floor. Rin, walking past with his own bag of books, stopped and stared. Even Sae’s friends, who were standing nearby, froze in surprise.

“Whoa! Sae, look at all this!” one of his friends said, picking up a pink heart-shaped box. “You’re like an idol or something.”

Rin looked around the hallway, noticing a group of girls peeking around the corner, giggling as they watched Sae. Rin rolled his eyes.

Sae didn’t seem impressed. He sighed, crouched down, and began scooping up the fallen chocolates. “You guys can take them if you want,” he said calmly. “I don’t really care.”

His friends’ jaws dropped. “Are you serious?” one of them asked, already reaching for a fancy-looking box. Sae shrugged.

“Yeah. Take them. I don’t eat sweets much anyway.”

Rin couldn’t believe it. “Nii-chan, you’re just giving them away?”

Sae gave Rin one of his usual unreadable looks. “What am I supposed to do with them? Keep them all? It’s just chocolate, Rin.”

Rin huffed, muttering under his breath. He might’ve been little, but he knew enough to tell that those chocolates weren’t just “chocolates.” The girls liked nii chan. They liked him liked him.

Later, when they got home, Rin peeked into Sae’s bag to see if he’d kept any of the chocolates. Sure enough, there was one. A small, simple box with a handwritten note tied to it.

“Why’d you keep that one?” Rin asked, pointing at it.

Sae looked up from his homework and shrugged. “She gave it to me in person,” he said. “It’d be rude to give it away.”

Rin squinted at him. Something about the way Sae said it made Rin feel like there was more to the story.

—

The next day, Rin noticed Y/N sitting on the stairs near the school courtyard, looking sad. She had her hands covering her knees, and her head was bowed. Rin frowned. Usually, she was cheerful and full of energy, but today, she just sat there, not even looking up when people passed by.

Sae noticed too. Rin could tell because instead of heading to class like he normally did, Sae turned and walked straight over to her. Rin followed, curious but pretending he didn’t care.

“What happened?” Sae asked, his voice calm but steady.

Y/N glanced up, her eyes a little watery, and gave a sheepish smile. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

Sae crouched slightly, his gaze dropping to where she was holding her knee. “Doesn’t look fine,” he said.

Rin leaned closer and noticed the scrape on her knee, smeared with a little blood. Her other leg looked bruised, too. 

Y/N sighed, looking embarrassed. “I tripped on the stairs earlier. It was so dumb. I wasn’t even running or anything. I just... fell.”

“Can you walk?” Sae asked.

Y/N shifted and winced as she tried to stand. “Not really,” she admitted, sitting back down. “My legs hurt.”

Without a word, Sae turned around and crouched in front of her.

“What are you doing?” Y/N asked, confused.

“Get on,” Sae said simply.

“What?”

“I’ll carry you to the nurse’s office,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “Hurry up before we’re late.”

Y/N hesitated, looking unsure. “You don’t have to—”

“Just get on,” Sae said again, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Blushing slightly, Y/N carefully climbed onto his back, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck. Rin’s eyes went wide.

“Nii-chan, are you serious?!” Rin asked, sounding both shocked and annoyed.

“Do you see anyone else helping her?” Sae shot back, standing up effortlessly with Y/N on his back.

Rin scowled but didn’t say anything. He followed them as Sae started walking toward the nurse’s office, Y/N leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Thanks, Sae,” Y/N said softly.

“Don’t mention it,” Sae replied, his voice steady.

Rin trailed behind, muttering under his breath. “She’s so dramatic. It’s just a scrape. I fell yesterday, and no one carried me anywhere.”

But as he watched Sae carry Y/N, his brother calm as ever while Y/N’s face slowly brightened, Rin couldn’t help but feel a little jealous.

“Why does Nii-chan always go out of his way for her?” Rin thought, kicking a pebble on the ground.

By the time they got to the nurse’s office, Y/N was smiling again. Rin sighed, knowing that no matter how much it annoyed him, Sae was going to keep looking out for her.

Sae, as usual, looked calm, but Rin caught the faintest smile on his brother’s face.

Later, as they were heading home, Rin couldn’t help but ask, “Nii-chan, do you like her?”

Sae glanced at him, his face unreadable as always. “What do you mean?”

“You kept her chocolate,” Rin pointed out. “And you carried her to the nurse’s office. You don’t do that for anyone else.”

Sae didn’t answer right away. After a moment, he just said, “She’s different.”

—

Rin was still in elementary school, but Sae and Y/N were now in middle school. Even though they didn’t go to school together anymore, things hadn’t changed too much. Sae still came home every day, and most of the time, he’d be in a good mood. Rin liked it when Nii-chan was like that because it meant he’d play with him, and Sae would even show him new tricks.

But one day, everything felt... different.

Sae came home later than usual, and when Rin saw him walk through the door, he noticed right away that something was wrong. Sae didn’t say much during dinner, and when Rin asked if they could play soccer, Sae just shook his head.

“Maybe later,” he muttered.

Rin frowned. Nii-chan never said no to soccer.

Later that evening, Rin found Sae sitting on the steps outside their house, staring at the ground. Rin hesitated for a moment before walking over and sitting down beside him.

He let out a small sigh, his gaze still fixed on the ground. Finally, he said, “Y/N’s moving abroad.”

Rin blinked, confused. “What? Why?”

“Her dad’s job,” Sae replied. His voice was flat, but Rin could tell he was upset.

Rin tilted his head, trying to process it. “So... she’s leaving? For how long?”

Sae shrugged. “Probably a few years.”

“A few years?!” Rin’s eyes widened. “That’s forever!”

Sae didn’t respond.

Rin thought for a moment, then asked, “Did she tell you today?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her I’d miss her,” Sae admitted quietly.

Rin stared at him, stunned. It wasn’t like Nii-chan to say stuff like that. He was usually so calm and serious, never letting his emotions show.

“She said she’d miss me too,” Sae added after a moment.

Rin watched his brother’s face closely. Sae didn’t look like he was about to cry or anything, but there was something about the way he sat that made Rin feel uncomfortable.

“What are you gonna do?” Rin asked.

Sae glanced at him. “What can I do? She’s leaving, Rin. I can’t stop her.”

Rin thought about that for a moment. He didn’t like Y/N as much as Sae did—she was always stealing Sae’s attention, after all—but even Rin couldn’t imagine her not being around anymore.

The next day, Rin decided to follow Sae to the park after school, where he knew Sae and Y/N usually met up. He stayed hidden behind a tree, watching as they sat on their usual bench.

Y/N was holding a small notebook, and she handed it to Sae with a shy smile. “I made this for you,” she said.

Sae opened the notebook, flipping through the pages. It was filled with little doodles, notes, and memories of their time together—funny moments, inside jokes, and even some pictures she’d drawn of their soccer games.

“It’s so you don’t forget me,” Y/N said softly.

“I won’t forget you,” Sae replied, his voice steady but quiet.

They talked for a while, and even though Rin couldn’t hear everything, he could tell it was important. When Y/N finally got up to leave, Sae stood too. They said goodbye, and Y/N walked away, turning back once to wave.

That night, Sae was still quiet, but he seemed a little better. Rin sat next to him again, this time holding their soccer ball.

“She gave you something, huh?” Rin asked, glancing at the notebook on the table.

“Yeah.”

“Are you gonna write back to her?”

“Maybe,” Sae said.

Rin stared at him for a moment before nudging him with the ball. “Wanna play?”

Sae looked at him, and for the first time that day, he gave a small smile. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Even though Rin still didn’t fully understand everything, he decided not to ask any more questions. If playing soccer could make Nii-chan feel a little better, then that was enough for him.

[devotion-disorder]

be careful what you wish for...the village Killian's from is having a bit of a population crisis right now, and having a nice little human come by could be just what they need...

Oh noooo....I'm just a naive human lost in this big forest with no one waiting for me...would be a shame if some beautiful elves whisked me away and brainwashed me into thinking I'm their pet/breeding machine and only need their "love and devotion". That would be terrible /silly

- 🩵

wdym the beautiful elf men do not, in fact, have my best interests in mind and were planning something nefarious from the start </3 I was just gonna write down some quick thoughts but it kinda got out of hand LOL

Content warning for: implied drugging (hypnotics, aphrodisiacs), dubcon/ noncon touching (nothing explicit though), manipulation, slight obsessive/ yandere themes, general elven condescension?

Imagine that you’ve accidentally wandered too deep into the forest and lost your way, your shoes hardly holding up in the rough terrain, and the last remaining rays of the setting sun are snuffed out by the overgrown foliage…

To make things worse, you walk right into some sort of trap - a stumbling step is all it takes to activate the runic trip switch, and a suffocating cloud of purple gas is the last thing you remember before things fade to dark…

How clumsy of you! Good thing Priest Killian happened to be on his evening walks when he spotted your pitiful form twitching and writhing in the hunting trap he’d set up; carefully he scooped you up and went his way back to the village. Only the most observant would be able to discern that the Priests’ unmoving smile seemed a bit wider than usual.

It was a trap the elves set up for hunting animals, he’d explained. The poison was almost enough to be fatal, had he not been there in time to save you. It’ll also take a bit for all the toxins to be out of your system. No worries though, because Killian offers to take care of you in his quarters until you’re up on your feet again. 

You don’t even remember if you’d managed to give a response, what with lead-heavy limbs and relentless migraine pulsing in your head. Luckily, Killian treated you with utmost care. 3 meals a day (along with the antidote treatment) brought to your bed (well, his bed), and spoon-fed to you because you were too weak to even sit up. He massaged your stiff muscles and brushed your hair. He ran warm baths and washed you – and even then he never opened his eyes – so at least there was some comfort in that.

Under Killian’s care you gradually regain your strength, save for the occasional dizzy spell and fatigue. But he saved your life after all! Feeling indebted to him, you offer to stay longer in the village to help around. While Killian’s expression is ever-unreadable, you can’t help but sense a bit of…amusement from him upon your suggestion. Regardless, he agrees – so long as you agree not to wander too far outside the village, because it’s very dangerous out there, he said.

And of course, he maintained a watchful eye over you, shadowing your tottering form as you went around introducing yourself to the other villagers. How cute.

You worked whatever odd jobs the elves had for you. which isn’t much at all. Mostly just menial tasks, or perhaps relaying messages. Things that they could’ve easily done themselves with their magic, but it’s fun watching an over-enthusiastic little human do it instead, so eager to please. You would say they are…endeared, perhaps. Or maybe they’re just looking out for you, what with your unfinished recovery. Anyhow, the elves are charmed by the newfound presence in the village.

Killian gifts you a new set of clothes, made by the local tailor (you don’t remember visiting a tailor for measurements at any point though, strange). To help you feel more at home, he said. It's pretty, a delicate garment that flutters cool against your skin in the warm summer heat, with an unmistakably elven style of elegance. It is a little short but, well, elves are known for being tall so maybe they're not used to human proportions? The white silk is a bit sheer in places, and you tried to ignore how it clung to the contours of your body when you sweat…

You hadn’t expected elves to be so openly affectionate. Being a long-living race known for their high culture and intelligence, it made for the perception that they were maybe a bit prudish, engrossed in their endless pursuit of finer things to care about lowly desires. But you suppose the elves are as curious of you as you are of them. You got to know some of them quite well, and soon it was routine for them to envelop you in their embrace. They pet your hair and nuzzle into your neck (Killian said something about how common skinship is in elven culture), at times slipping their digits beneath your clothes…sometimes you don't really remember, because the medicine still made you a bit sluggish. But it's ok! Their affectionate nature is a surprise but one you welcome. You think. 

During all of which, your treatment continued. Just a little longer, Killian promised. The side-effects seem to show no sign of waning, if not worsening at times. Sometimes you struggle to recall what has happened and what has not. The elves didn’t seem to mind, gladly cradling your tired body when you are overcome with sudden bounds of weakness. You poor little thing, they cooed, one hand combing through your hair to distract you from their other that wandered along your body.

Some days the medicine leaves you feeling more flushed than usual, and a strange feeling you can’t quite place invades your senses; a deep, frustrating kind of yearning that throbbed in your core. You assume it's the side-effects of advanced elf sorcery/ enchantment in your antidote treatment. It’s a tad embarrassing, but you can’t really do anything about it when the elves (if not the Priest himself) check in on you so frequently. 

Your only reprieve comes when Killian slots himself snug against your smaller form at bedtime. Were you always this close? You’re not sure if you recall, trying desperately to suppress the suggestive thoughts flooding your brain. His cool hands trail over your body, and it feels way too good against your overheating skin, so good that you can’t even think about resisting as his lips come crashing on top of yours, when he slips his arm underneath your waist to push you closer, closer against him.

Stumbling out of Killian’s quarters in the dead of night, confused, and your vision blurred by hot tears, all you can think about is getting away from him, from this godforsaken place. The other elves stepped out of their houses from the commotion. It was as if something in the air shifted. Their friendly, curious pretenses have dropped completely, leaving a ravenous hunger and unyielding need in their place. The way they leer at your body, the disheveled elven outfit failing to provide much cover, makes your hair stand on their ends. The elves close in on you, their concerned voices laced with something unmistakably sinister. You’re trapped.

A gentle hand on your shoulder snaps you out of your stupor.

“Now, now, I’m sure we’re all very excited about our little one here, but everyone will have their turn sooner or later.” Killian explains. He leans close to your ear, whispering in a volume only audible to you. “Look at you getting everyone so riled up already. Aren’t you such a needy little pet?” You’re paralyzed in fear, but his husky voice in your ears is still setting your nerves alight. 

“I’ll give you two choices. Either you let me 'take care of you' back at home,” his arms snaked around your body again, lithe fingers fanning across your thighs. “Or we’ll give everyone a show, and maybe let them get...a preemptive taste, as well. What’ll it be?”

[asapstarkey]

It's Complicated — Rafe Cameron

Chapter One: Here we go again

Introduction

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Routledge!Reader

Summary: Rafe can’t resist you and tensions boil over at a party on the beach.

Warnings: Drug use, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, implied smut, swearing, death of parents

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Here we go! Chapter One. I can’t say I’m super pleased with this but I wanted to set the tone. Please please please let me know what you think! The series title is an A Day To Remember song for all my emos. And the title of this chapter is the first words of the song. Lmao. Just a fun fact for you.

“Y’all have a good one! Be safe out there!” you called as you waved off the boat you just gassed up. 

You put the nozzle back in its place and wiped your hands on your shorts as you stood upright. You stared out at the coastline where the sun was setting and sighed softly. 

“Yo!” A voice called from above and you turned to find your brother standing at the door of the surf shop. “That’s it for the day. Let’s wrap it up.” 

You nodded, bending down to grab your water bottle and head up to help them count the money. 

“Chop, chop! We’re gonna miss them starting the bonfire!” 

“I’m coming John B!” You shouted back at him then muttered, “Jesus Christ.” You climbed the steps and entered your little bait and surf shop. 

Sarah was sitting on the stool counting the drawer while Kiara sat on the counter and counted the lock box. You busied yourself helping Pope put away products people decided not to buy and reorganize the shelves, two key members of your group clearly missing. 

“Where’d JJ and Cleo go?” you questioned, looking over your shoulder at your younger brother for answers. 

“To get the keg,” Sarah replied. She was counting the same stack of five dollar bills for the third time with a furrowed brow. 

“What? Why would they go get it? I’m the only one here of legal age,” you said with a laugh. 

You knew the Pogues had acquired fake ID’s over the years and never had trouble buying alcohol before. It just made more sense for you to be the one to go get it without the hassle. The clerks at the gas stations and liquor stores charged extra for knowing they had fakes but letting it slide. 

“New corner store just opened up a couple blocks away. You could show them an ID with a picture of Abraham Lincoln on it and they’ll still sell to you,” Pope answered. “Those guys are either dumb or don’t give a shit.” 

You hummed in response, hanging one last fishing lure on a hook then heading for the door. Sarah and Kiara were taking too long counting the money and you wanted to rinse off the sweat and oil from filling gas all day. John B could handle locking up for the night. 

You were exhausted. The beginning of Summer is always the busiest with the most tourists coming into the OBX to vacation. You almost considered heading straight for your bed and staying in for the night. But this was the first big party of the season, and you deserved to have some fun. So you hopped in the shower and relaxed under the warm water. 

There were dozens of people already on the beach by the time you arrived. Chatter and laughter filled the air as you slid the side door of the Twinkie open. Your eyes scanned the crowd, seeing Pogues, Kooks, and Tourons alike. They were still stacking wood in the rock circle where the bonfire would soon be lit, cutting the cool breeze coming off of the ocean despite the humid Summer’s night air. 

“Just in time,” Sarah sighed happily while climbing out of the passenger seat. 

Kiara handed you a couple of bags of red solo cups, her carrying a few more as well as the rig for the keg. 

“You boys got this right?” Cleo asked with a smirk as the four of you girls started towards the beach, leaving the men to lug the heavy keg through the sand. Grumbling could be heard from behind as you giggled and skipped towards the crowd. 

The beers started flowing quickly and flames soon illuminated the faces around you. You kept your red solo cup in hand as you weaved through the crowd and welcomed the warmth from the fire. The first few beers went down easily, your mind already fuzzy and buzzing from the alcohol. 

You caught up with old friends from school who were back from the Summer. A lot of them were fortunate enough to get off of Kildare Island and build a better life for themselves. Some were married, and some already had kids. The more you talked to them the worse you started to feel. 

You and John B weren’t so fortunate. Yes, the treasure hunting and gold helped you start a business, but you still struggled. It was the only source of income for you and six other mouths to feed. You rarely had much left over after paying the bills and buying supplies. Not enough to get you onto the mainland and into college. 

You made your way to the edge of the crowd, closer to the waves crashing on the shore. You stood alone and scanned the crowd that had grown much larger than when you first arrived. Your gaze landed on the Kooks, standing in their own group away from the rest. They looked at anyone who passed with their noses turned up, acting like they were better than everyone else like always. You couldn’t help the look of disgust that crossed your face. 

That’s when your eyes locked with Rafe’s. He smirked as he raised his cup to his lips and took a drink, staring over the rim. Sophia hung off of his arm like a trophy, completely oblivious to the silent interaction you and the man beside her were having. His new flavor of the month you supposed, or year maybe. They’d been together since February, even though Rafe refused to call her his girlfriend. She was a Pogue yet hid it well. Somehow weaseling her way into the group of spoiled rich kids as if she belonged. Somehow gaining the attention of the King Kook himself and getting him to stick around. Well, kind of. 

You wandered off at some point. You needed to clear your head and rid yourself of thoughts of how much of a failure you felt. As well as the man who contributed to it. 

The voices from the party grew quieter and the waves grew louder. The beer in your hand was lukewarm now, but you fought through a sip anyway. You came to a stop, bare toes wiggling in the sand as you stared out at the reflection of the moon on the water. Just as your head started to clear and the silence settled in, a voice ruined it. 

“Done with the party already?” 

You sighed and your eyes fell closed for a moment before fluttering back open. 

“Just needed a breather,” you replied. The footsteps grew closer until you could see his board shorts in the corner of your eye and he stopped. “What do you want, Rafe?” 

You turned to look at him as he was lighting a joint pinched tightly between his lips. The smoke started floating off the end as he inhaled and his eyes flickered up to meet yours. 

“Just came to check on my favorite Pogue,” he retorted stiffly with a sideways smile, holding the smoke in his lungs for another second before exhaling. 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, looking back out at the water without saying anything in return. If you entertained him you knew what would happen. But Rafe seemed determined. 

“Want a hit?” He asked, slowly inching closer until he was standing beside you. The sleeve of his open button-up shirt brushed your bare shoulder, blowing in the wind around his toned abdomen. 

You ignored him. You shook your head and took another drink from your red solo cup. 

“Come on, (Y/N). You know you want to,” Rafe teased, moving to stand in front of you. He took the cup from your hand and took a drink, holding the joint out between you in your direction. 

You didn’t meet his eye, staring down at the rolled green that was slowly starting to go out in front of you. “Fine,” you sighed, going to take it from his fingers. But he pulled it away. You dropped your hand against your side and huffed. You knew what he wanted. He bit his bottom lip and brought the joint up to your mouth himself, watching your lips wrap around the end as you inhaled. 

“Atta girl,” he whispered with a smirk. 

You rolled your eyes and snatched your cup back, swallowing down half of it in two gulps. As much as you hated to admit it, you were nervous around Rafe. One, because of his unpredictable attitude and behavior. Two, because of the undeniable tension between the two of you being in such close proximity. No matter how many times this happened, you were always nervous. 

Rafe’s hand came up, brushing your hair over your shoulder before toying with the bikini strap tied around your neck. Rafe placed the joint between his lips and held it there, around it he suggested, “Why don’t you and I go have a little fun?” 

You looked up at him incredulously. “What?!” 

“Yeah,” he shrugged, eyes flickering from your lips down to your bikini top. His fingers trailed the seam of the bikini, over your collarbone, and atop your breast. Goosebumps were left in the wake of his touch, your body betraying you even though you tried to fight it. “We always have so much fun at these parties.” 

“Rafe..” you breathed as he dropped the joint into the sand and he bent down, lips brushing your jaw causing your breath to hitch. Your voice trembled slightly, “What about Sophia?” 

Rafe hummed, no remorse at all for what you were about to do. He kissed your neck once below your ear. The sound of your cup being dropped was drowned out by the thumping of your heart in your ears. His breath was hot on your neck as he spoke softly, “She doesn’t make me feel the way you do. No one makes me feel the way you do.” 

Your hand came up to grip his biceps, eyes fluttering closed as his lips worked over your sensitive skin. His hands found your hips and pulled you closer until you were nearly chest to chest. You would never admit it out loud, but you felt the same way. No man had ever come close to making you feel the way that Rafe did. And you weren’t sure anyone ever could. 

Your hands slid over the muscles of his arms until your fingers found his hair. He raised his head, pupils blown as you finally met his eyes. Your bottom lip shook from the look of pure desire on his face. You glanced at his lips, unable to ignore how badly you wanted them on every inch of your body.

You caved. 

“Make it quick. I’ve already been away for too long.” 

Rafe smirked wide before he pulled you into a heated kiss. He pulled away only to say, “You won’t have to worry about that. I’ve been waiting all night to get you out of this damn bikini.” And then he was kissing you again, backing you into the trees to sneak you around to his Jeep. 

As you climbed out of the backseat of the black Jeep, it was clear that post-nut clarity hit Rafe, and the buzz from the beer and weed had worn off significantly. He wouldn’t even look at you as he fixed his swim trunks and ran his fingers through the hair your fingers had just been gripping like your life depended on it. You sheepishly fixed your bikini top in the reflection of the passenger window and swiped at the smudged mascara under your eyes. 

The sound of the back door slamming made you jump. Rafe didn’t say a word as he walked around the vehicle and back towards the party, leaving you behind to collect yourself and come up with some excuse as to why you disappeared. 

You scurried around the Jeep and towards the Twinkie, faking like you had been in the old van the whole time in case anyone saw you. As you rounded the front, you saw Rafe back with his group of friends acting as if nothing had just happened. His arm was back around Sophia’s shoulders and you uncomfortably witnessed the moment he lifted her chin for a sloppy kiss. 

I wonder if you know I just came from his mouth twice in the back of the car he brought you in, you thought to yourself. 

And that’s when the anger set in. How dare he use you like that and go back to her like you were nothing? How dare he treat either of you this way. As much as you couldn’t stand Sophia and how fake she was, she didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve this. 

Your eyes pricked with hot tears of fury. You made a break for it from the Twinkie, beelining for JJ who was at the keg because he was the only person from your group you could see at the moment. But there was only one route to him. Too many people on the beach to weave through. And it led you right into a trap. 

“(Y/N)! Care for a beer?” Kelce offered as you tried to get past the group of Kooks, a smirk plastered across his smug face. 

“I’m good. Thanks,” you replied dryly, blinking back the tears threatening to spill. 

The sniffle gave you away. And like vultures, they couldn’t wait to rip you apart.

“What’s got the Queen in such a rush?” Ruthie stepped in front of you to block your way. That stupid nickname made your blood boil even more. Queen Pogue. They called you that like everyone called Rafe the King Kook. As if there was some kind of hierarchy amongst the already divided groups on the island. “Stay awhile!”

You looked past her, praying that JJ would look up and see what was happening. He was too busy talking to younger Pogues. You could tell he was also already wasted by the squint of his eyes and the sway of his body. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Ruthie teased again, trying her hardest to get under your skin. 

“Fuck off and get out of my way,” you warned. Your hands were in white knuckle fists at your side. You were trying your hardest to keep your anger at bay. Anger with Rafe that everyone around was about to get the wrath of.

The Kooks laughed and gasped in feigned fear. Your jaw clenched and you closed your eyes, trying to focus on your breathing. If Ruthie didn’t move you were going to move her yourself. Which she would be sure to press charges on you for and that’s the last thing you needed right now. 

“Just let her go, Ruth,” Rafe spoke up from behind you. For a second, you thought he was coming to your defense for once. Urging his group of ‘friends’ to just leave you alone. But then he opened his mouth again, “No point in wasting your breath on trash like her. She’s not worth the trouble.”

White hot rage spread through your veins and for a second, you blacked out. You ripped the full cup of beer out of Kelce’s hands and threw the whole thing in Rafe’s face. Commotion. Suddenly there were bodies and shouting all around you. You lunged at him as he stood there in shock but someone grabbed you. You were screaming obscenities and flailing in Topper’s arms, swinging at Rafe despite knowing you wouldn’t land a single punch. 

“Fuck you, Rafe! Are you fucking kidding me?!” you wailed. “Let me go!”

JJ was there in an instant, grabbing your arms so you didn’t hit him. “Hey. Hey!” he tried to calm you down. “Topper let her go, man!” 

“(Y/N), what happened?” John B was there now too, grabbing the sides of your head and forcing you to meet his eyes. “Calm down. What did they do?” 

“We didn’t do shit man, just offered her a beer.” 

“Bullshit!” JJ snarled, knowing you wouldn’t get so worked up over nothing.

Your bottom lip trembled, eyes flickeirng to Rafe who was soaking wet and looking at you in disbelief. Sophia was using her own tank top to wipe the beer off of his cheek and neck. He scoffed and snatched the shirt from her, storming off down the beach and towards the ocean to rinse himself off. She trailed after him like a lost puppy. 

“Just take me home, please. I want to go home.” 

A/N: Add yourself to my tag list for this series if you’d like! As always, feedback is appreciated and I’ll see you soon with Chapter 2!

Tag list: @itsmattiesworld @escapismlourve @mattyskies @persiar9 @bellstwd @f4ll-for-you @oatmealisweird @FAMEFUCKERS @famefuckers @enthusiastms @lilleesthings @koibleufish @ravenroyale @reidshearts @probablyreadingsmutlol @rafelovergirl @angvl3tears @bilssturns @babygirlwilly

[thinkinonsense]

old!logan and his obsession with the cute diner girl *mdni

a/n: this is my first attempt at writing something smutty so if it sucks im sorry lmao also if any writers have any tips please share! :)

logan has been around for long enough to know when a woman is attracted to him. there was a certain essence given off that was always a dead giveaway. usually it came from women close to the age he looked like and it tended to be brief moments of lust before all hope was lost. this was until he met you.

the pretty young girl working at the diner during her time off from college. everyday, he came in and ordered a black coffee. the coffee wasn't even that good but logan would spend two dollars every single day of his life if it came with the view of you bending over in that tiny uniform skirt.

logan would watch you for hours while he drank and skimmed the news paper alone in a booth. your hair was always up in either a ponytail or held together with a hair clip. he loved seeing your pretty handwriting as you scribbled on your notepad, taking orders. it was part of your job to be nice to everyone but you were especially nice to him. even your friends began to notice how you would linger by his table, constantly topping off his coffee mug and making small talk; sometimes giving him a slice of cherry pie on the house.

"don't you think he's kinda old for you?" one of your friends whispers to you behind the counter.

it's stung but you suppose she had a point. what would a man old enough to be your father want with a young wild girl like yourself?

"i-i guess so?" you stuttered, embarrassed at your previous attempt at flirting with him.

the rest of the night, you hoped he would leave before close so you could have some time alone with your feelings. summer was almost over and you would go back to the city soon. it was time to forget these silly fantasizes.

by ten, all the other waitresses went home except you, the older woman in the back who counted the drawer every night, and a few of the cooks. the only customer still there was logan. he flipped through one of the books he brought with him; still sipping away at that damn coffee.

"isn't it getting a little late for you, sweetheart?" he asked nonchalantly, not even looking up at you as you bent over to scrub the table next to his. the fifth table you've cleaned in the last hour and the second time you've cleaned that specific table. logan noticed but you didn't.

"need the hours." you mumble, frustrated by a stubborn stain. all logan could focus on was your scrunched nose and how your tight top pushed your boobs together just right for his viewing. "college is fucking expensive plus grants and scholarships only cover so much."

"hmm.." logan grunts. grants? scholarship? what a goody fucking two shoes, logan thought to himself. "if you bring me piece of pie, i think i can help you out."

you lean off the table and go get what's left in the glass container. it's probably a little hard so you definitely didn't plan on charging him for it. you sit the plate down in front of him and before you could turn around to walk away, logan reaches for your wrist softly.

"join me." he offers.

you knew you shouldn't but what was really the harm? at least your friends weren't here to make fun of you. the radio played quietly on an older station while you watched logan take a bite of the pie.

"why did your friends leave you here alone?" he asked, watching your face turn sour at the memory of them.

"don't wanna talk about it." your voice was small in the empty diner.

"why? think an old man like me can't relate to it?" logan chuckles. your thighs squeeze together without thinking. so much for not embarrassing yourself.

"no, no, not that." you shake your head and a strand of hair falls from your bun. "just sort of juvenile, you know?"

logan could tell that you were trying to come off more mature around him. you didn't want him to see you as some college kid.

"juvenile, how?" he eggs on, pushing down his glasses a bit.

god, those glasses got to you; and logan knew it.

"they don't understand how i feel about someone." you sigh.

"how do you feel about this person?" logan noticed you now avoiding his gaze, not liking it one bit. "eyes on me, princess."

the nickname caught you off guard like a dear in headlight; blinking and trembling up at logan. something logan enjoyed very much and could get used to.

"it's not important, just some stupid crush." you lie through your teeth. "they will forget about me in a month."

"why don't you think it'll work?" he cocks his head to the side a bit. "you're a pretty young thing, dollface. anyone of those college boys would be lucky to be wrapped around your little finger."

"i don't want college boys." you mumble, slightly annoyed by the memory of your friends.

logan felt himself getting hard at you admitting you had a taste for someone older. his eyes grew dark as he leaned in a little over the table.

"then what do you want?"

your moment to answer was interrupted by the older woman from the back, releasing you to go home for the evening. this was your chance to get up and leave before you admitted anything else that you would regret.

both of you stood up. logan threw down some cash while you went to collect your stuff behind the counter.

"i'll see you tomorrow, lo-"

"you didn't answer the question."

"i must go now if i want to catch the last train."

logan worried about you taking the train back to your apartment alone this late at night. usually you drive back but your car has been in the shop for almost three days now. he would watch you get to your car every night to make sure you were safe.

"i can drive you home." logan offers.

you shouldn't be this excited to be sitting in a strangers truck alone at night but here you were. the two of you sat in silence for a few minutes before logan brought up the conversation from the diner again. what did you even want?

"i want someone who understands me..." you begin rattling off the first things that come to mind when you notice logan's hand on your knee. you don't dare move.

"someone who is responsible..." with every word, his hand creeps higher and higher up your skirt. logan is more than pleased when he notices your legs spread on their own.

"someone who is m-mature..." logan's fingers inch towards the delicate skin of your inner thigh. there's no way this was happening, you thought as his index finger plays with the lace on the center of your pink underwear. he smirked at the wet spot front and center, waiting for him.

"treats me r-r-right." every word was a struggle to form as he stroked you softly. back and forth. back and forth.

logan nods along, not letting up down below. his index finger hooks onto your underwear, pulling it aside. you weren't even sure if you were breathing at this point; all this teasing was torture.

"p-p-please, logan..." you whine. "touch me."

his thumb rubs tiny circles on your button, adoring the way his name pours from your glossy lips. your hands fly to his wrists, needing more; nails digging into his skin in the most delicious way.

"where did this greediness come from?" logan groans, dipping his index finger inside of you. "what happened to that good girl from the diner?"

logan's finger barely fit in the tight space. your head fell back and a loud moan escaped you.

"oh, you weren't letting those college boys touch you at all, huh?" logan mocks, adding another finger and creating a steady pace.

"n-no!" you whine, lifting your hips a little.

"you were waiting for a real man to have his way with you, isn't that right, pretty girl?" he growls, pushing your hips back down.

you completely missed logan pulling off to the side of the road until now. his pace increases becoming rather rough now that he isn't driving. logan leaves deep purple bruises down your neck and across your chest, praising you to no end until you gush around his fingers, completely soaking his palm.

your heart pounded like you had just finished a marathon. logan allowed you to catch your breath as he carefully removed his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth to lick clean. he can feel your dazy eyes staring at him as he does so, making a real show of it.

"i've been wanting to do that for months now." he admits with a smirk.

"me too." you said, leaning forward and pulling him into a kiss; tasting yourself on his lips and tongue. logan wraps his hands around your hair, pulling you back a little when another moan falls from your lips.

"and we aren't even close to being done."

[dilf-hunter-fantasies]

[900 words of fluff, smut, and breeding kink]

Daydreaming about...

Husband!Joel Miller and the first time it slipped from your lips.

You hadn’t meant for it to happen. 

It was a sultry summer evening, the kind where the air still clung to you even after the sun dipped below the horizon. You’d both been a little buzzed, the walk home from the neighborhood block party filled with laughter and teasing touches. 

Joel had barely managed to close the front door before his lips were on yours, his hands greedy and warm as they wandered under your sundress.

It had been the kind of night where everything felt heightened—the taste of his tongue against yours, the way his calloused palms felt against your skin, and how his every touch seemed to unravel you. He’d taken you to bed with that intense, unfiltered adoration in his eyes, the kind that always left you weak in the knees. 

He was almost too much, murmuring worshipful praises into your ear, and against every inch of your skin. He had that sparkle in his eyes that made you melt. Everything was a pleasant blur, the way your bodies fit together, your giggles as he nearly growled, trying to pull you closer. 

The haze of his tender, overwhelming love, was more intoxicating than the warmth of the sun and the last hints of alcohol buzzing in your veins. He was pure devotion, attuned to every part of your body, every thought you might have, and coaxing you into a state of euphoria. 

You didn’t even realize you were talking, rambling softly between gasping breaths as he rocked into you, filling you to the brim until your eyes rolled back. But you’d been singing sweet praises right back to him. 

“So good,” you whispered. “Just like that, fuck.” 

And he did exactly as you said, hitting that perfect angle that had you floating away, lost in the bliss. 

And then it happened. 

Slipping free, soft and breathy between moans. “Oh, fuck,” your brows scrunching together in that way they always did when you were close. “Cum deep, baby, I need it.” Another moan rolled through you as he thrust his cock so deep it kissed the end of you. “That’s it. I want to carry it inside me, always. Fill me up until it takes, Joel.” 

Joel had frozen for a moment, his gaze locking on yours with an intensity that stole your breath. His cock twitched inside of you like he was somehow even harder than he’d ever been. Something primal flickered in his dark eyes, his jaw tightening before he let out a deep, guttural groan. 

Whatever switch you’d flipped in him sent him spiraling into something wild, feral. He’d pumped into you like it was his sole purpose, whispering filth and adoration in equal measure, his body relentless against yours until you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. A tangled vine of limbs. 

Now, a couple of years into your marriage, that same insatiable energy has returned. But this time it’s real. Tangible. The decision to start trying for a baby had been an exciting one, but you hadn’t anticipated how it would unleash a new, unstoppable side of your husband.

Joel’s been radiating pure, unadulterated want for weeks now. It’s in the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing that matters in the entire universe. It’s in his hands, which can’t seem to stay off you, whether he’s tugging you into his lap on the couch, pressing against you in the kitchen, or pulling you into the shower under the guise of saving water.

You’re attempting to finish making dinner when you feel him behind you. His strong arms slide around your waist, his chest pressing firmly against your back. His hands find their way to your hips first, then drift upward, cupping your breasts as his thumbs tease over the sensitive peaks through the thin fabric of your shirt.

“Sweetheart,” he drawls, his voice rough and low, sending shivers down your spine. “How am I s’posed to keep my hands off ya when you look like this?”

“Joel,” you protest weakly, though the way your breath catches betrays you. “I’m trying to cook.”

“Don’t care,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Need you, darlin’. Right here, right now.” His hands trail lower, his fingers slipping under the waistband of your leggings, and you’re gone, dinner long forgotten as he husks into your ear about how he’s gotta keep you filled up. Spouting off nonsense like how he can hear your pussy beggin’ for him, how she’s feelin’ empty and needs him too.

And somehow, no matter how filthy and feral he gets for you, it’s endearing. Wrapped in love and yearning for the idea of a family. Of more to love. 

The rest of your days—and nights—follow the same pattern. 

You find yourself pinned against the kitchen counter, bent over the couch, tangled in the sheets. He’s unstoppable, each touch, kiss, and thrust carrying a purpose that leaves you trembling and breathless.

Even at work, he’s insatiable. A quick trip to his job site to drop off his lunch turns into a heated, stolen moment in the back of your car. His kisses are ravenous, his hands rough but loving as he pulls you into his lap, his gruff voice murmuring, “Can’t wait, baby. Need you now.”

Every touch feels like a vow, every whispered word a promise. Joel loves you with his whole being, and now, with the thought of building a family together, that love has taken on an obsessive edge that leaves you dizzy and utterly devoted to him.

Late one night, as you lie together in the afterglow, his hand splayed possessively over your lower belly, he looks at you with those hearts in his eyes.

“This time,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “I feel it.” 

And you believe him. 

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[watchmegetobsessed]

UNMATCHED

A/N: it's been like 6 months since i last posted something and honestly, i haven't even written anything, things are very shitty these days but i felt the motivation to write this quickly after watching 'tell me lies' and 'rivals' these past weeks so here we go! if student-prof type of fics are not your thing then don't read it

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

WARNING: age gap, student-professor relationship

SUMMARY: Harry is very strict about staying away from students as a young and handsome professor, but there is one person he can't get out of his head and a Christmas party brings an unexpected turn.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Harry hates these type of parties, mostly because he can’t imagine inviting dozens of students into his home, his private space, have the roam around and spend an entire evening with them, talking and pretending like they aren’t just trying to get a better grade at the end of the semester with their too friendly behavior. Or, in his case, some girls try to push the boundaries and flirt with him, hoping to hook up with him. 

He is not stupid. He has heard students whisper about him several times, he notices the heart eyes when he is talking in class and he has gotten several phone numbers on papers since he started his PHD studies and started teaching last year. His friends teased him about being the heartthrob of the faculty, but he didn’t think it would actually happen and to this extent. To avoid any possible scandals, not that he planned to make any, he has put on quite a rigid mask towards the students to scare them off from even trying, though that hasn’t stopped some of them from wanting to shoot their shot. 

He wouldn’t have come to this party, he would rather be home and continue his research that’s still not even close to being done, but Professor Bradford, or Stella as she requests Harry to call her, is the only person he gets along with in the faculty. She is 18 years older than Harry, but still younger than the rest of the old men who have been teaching here since probably before the declaration of independence was signed. Those men are the reason younger people don’t like classic literature anymore, with their outdated ways of teaching and unwillingness to bring something modern into their lectures they are scaring the new generations away. But not Stella. She is one of the reasons Harry went into his PHD and now he gets to work with her. He couldn’t just reject her invitation for her annual Christmas Party she holds for her students and some colleagues. 

Now he is standing by the wall, drinking mulled wine and just gritting his teeth, trying to calculate how early is too early to leave. A couple of girls have already tried to chat him up, they like to circle him, leave him almost no room to escape and then make him talk about school stuff, but then they slyly bring up personal things, hoping to break his usual character, but he sees through them always. 

Harry’s best friend, Niall always teases him that he should just give in and have fun with one of them. His morals are a lot looser than Harry’s, that’s for sure. 

Just as he is about to look for the bathroom, not to use it but to hide for a bit, another group of girls spots him and he can already feel his skin crawling as they approach him from down the hallway. He is quick to assess the situation, but he realizes he has no chance of fleeing before they reach him. 

“Profesor! So good to see you here!” 

And here we go. 

It goes the same, they are extremely nice and inquiring about his plans for the next semester and then suddenly they are talking about summer and Harry knows they are moments away from asking what he’ll be doing once the school year is over. One of the girls is talking about going to Italy on a yacht and the others chime in with their own ridiculously over the top plans while Harry is avoiding to even look at them, his eyes roam around the other guests. 

That’s when he sees her. 

Just down the hall he can peek into the kitchen and there she is, with a boy Harry assumes to be her boyfriend. He’s seen them around campus the past few weeks, he even waited for her after Harry’s class and saw them walk away together as he fought the way his stomach churned every time. 

Since the moment she walked into his class at the beginning of the semester Harry has been feeling like he is losing his mind. Whether it be the way she laughs with her friends before class or focuses with undivided attention as Harry explains something by the board, or says hello every time she passes him in the cafeteria, Harry can’t stop thinking about her for days after even though he knows such feelings should be banned from his mind when it comes to a student. Every time he catches himself thinking about her he wants to throw himself out the window, but he still can’t fight it. There’s something in her that draws him in and swallows him whole and it’s not just the looks. Unlike a lot of students who take his classes for easy credits or to drool after him, she is there to learn as much as she can and she’s had the most brilliant thoughts on certain subjects Harry has ever encountered, making him almost jealous he wasn’t the one to think about them. 

She is… unmatched. And forbidden, but impossible to ignore. She’s been his vice for months.

From where he stands it appears she is having a fight with said boyfriend, her always cheerful expression is now rather upset and confused while the boy seems to be over the conversation, almost irritated by her, dismissed. Harry tries to appear not too obvious about watching them, but he is also way too fixated on her to ignore what’s happening just down the hallway. 

He glances away just for a few seconds, but the next time he looks back he sees the boy stomping away, irritated, while she is left there, pulling on her coat before disappearing through the backdoor, swallowed by the darkness of the unlit back terrace. 

And before Harry could stop himself, he is already moving.

“Excuse me girl,” he mumbles disorientedly as he slips out of the small circle. 

He places his glass to a nearby table and then grabs his own coat from the wardrobe in the hallway before making his way outside. After her. 

The moment he steps out into the cold a short sense of realization washes over him that he definitely shouldn’t be here, that he is crossing a line, but then another voice in his head tunes it out, convincing him that he is just making sure she is okay and there’s nothing wrong with that. 

Stopping by the door his gaze rakes through the terrace, but he doesn’t see her, until she spots her slouched form sitting on the bottom of the stairs leading out to the lawn. He hears her sniffling, but she hasn’t acknowledged his presence yet, if she noticed it at all. There’s a couple of moments of hesitation on his end, he can hear the rational side of him screaming somewhere in the back of his mind, telling him to turn around and just walk back inside, yet he still finds himself moving towards him and then that voice is silenced. 

“Everything alright?” Harry asks from the top of the stairs, but he startles her so much that she jumps to her feet and backs away a few feet. That’s when he sees her tearful eyes and red nose. 

“S-Sorry, I don’t–”

“Hey, it’s all good. You didn’t do anything wrong. Just checking in.”

She squints her eyes at him and that’s when he realizes she must not even see his face since the light is coming right behind him. So he walks down the stairs and then finally his face is lit and realization settles in her eyes. 

“Oh, Professor Styles. Hi.”

“Hello Y/N. Are you okay?” he asks again, to which she just chuckles bitterly. 

He can’t miss that even with tears running down her cheeks and her eyelashes stuck together, she looks so fucking beautiful it baffles him. He has to fight the urge to reach out and touch her tear-soaked cheeks. 

“Um, yeah, everything is… perfect,” she scoffs, reaching into her pockets, probably looking for tissues, but finding none so Harry grabs one from his inner pocket, handing it over to her, her fingers brushing against his for the shortest second as she takes it and then it’s over, but his skin keeps tingling. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles before drying her face as much as she can. “I’m good. Just…” She looks at him and changes her mind. “Ah, wouldn’t want to bore you with my nonsense personal drama.”

“Drama is never boring, have you learned nothing in my class?” he jokes and it actually makes her laugh. 

“This drama is not worthy of being taught in class though.”

“I bet some of the big names thought the same thing upon writing what we read in class these days.”

“So you’re saying I should write about how my boyfriend is fed up with me because I told him something he did hurt me?”

“That sounds like something I bet a lot of people would want to read about,” he smiles and when she mirrors it, he can feel his chest expanding. Somewhere way too deep in his mind an alarm goes off, but it quickly becomes one with the void and all he can think about is her. “Actually I can think of a few great pieces that are about similar topics.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, believe it or not, you’re not the first one to experience this.”

The way she looks at him is setting him on fire. The mixture of sadness, tiredness and gratitude towards his attempt to cheer her up is still making her glow in a way Harry has never seen before on any woman. 

“Do you mind analyzing one for me right now?”

“I’d be happy to.”

The party is completely tuned out for the two of them. First they actually talk about a novel, but soon it turns into sharing their favorite books and authors, their guilty pleasure reads,  recommendations for each other and even more personal bits Harry would never share with a student, but Y/N is the exception. 

They have no idea how much time passes as they stand outside and Harry ignores how the cold starts to sting his fingertips even in his pockets, because he knows that if they go inside this bubble will pop and he is too selfish to let that happen just yet. 

When there’s a short silence Harry notices that she is probably slipping back into what happened earlier and when she looks at him again he already knows she is about to share.

“I gave him a chance and explicitly told him not to fuck me over, because I can’t deal with that again. But all he has been doing is manipulating to believe that I’m always in the wrong.”

“It’s impossible for you to always be in the wrong.”

“I know. Well, part of me knows, but then I always go back to thinking that he is right, I must have messed up something.”

“That just proves that you have self-criticism, that you don’t just think everything you do is perfect.”

She sighs and looks away, her gaze distant as she battles herself inside her head, a feeling Harry knows very well, unfortunately. It doesn’t sit right with him that she is visibly struggling because of an immature guy’s untreated problems. She deserves so much more, but how can he tell that without crossing a line?

“Give it some time and you’ll see it clearer. Use your critical thinking on his actions as well, not just yours and don’t settle for less than your worth.”

“You think I did that?” she asks, eyes jumping back to meet his gaze. “You think I settled for less than my worth?”

There’s more behind her eyes than the words she said out loud and he is torn, because he can feel himself being pulled in more than ever, like she just opened the door the slightest and he has the chance to slip in. It’s the first time he senses something on her part and after all the yearning he is eager to take the chance. 

“I think you deserve a lot more, Y/N. You’re brilliant, bright and give so much to others, you should get the same amount if not more back. If someone can’t see that, then they don’t deserve you.”

For a second he wishes he didn’t say a thing, he regrets crossing the line and he fears her reaction, but then… 

Then he forgets everything. Because she is kissing him. 

It happens fast, one moment she is staring up at him with doe eyes, the next her lips are crashing against his, her hands grabbing onto the lapels of his coat. He barely recovers from the shock when she is already pulling away.

“I-I’m so sorry, I d-didn’t mean to, I just—Oh my Go–”

Her stammering is quickly cut short when he kisses her, his hands holding her jaw to angle her face perfectly and while her kiss was closed, rushed and panicked, this one is different. He is quick to beg for her to open her lips so he can explore as much of her as humanly possible, he is letting all the passions loose that he’s been locking up these past months and when she returns it just as eagerly it just pushes him even further. 

They inch back to the wall of the house and when he pins her against it a moan slips past her swollen lips, completely maddening him. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes against her lips, kissing her jawline, savoring the sweet taste of her skin that’s supposed to be cold, but it’s actually burning. For him. 

He keeps one hand on the side of her neck, the other one digs into her hip through her coat and she keeps pushing against him, while her hands wander under his coat, they are on his waist, back and when they move to his lower stomach, brushing against his belt, something snaps inside him. 

But before he could completely lose his mind the backdoor opens and he quickly sobers up, pulling her farther away from the corner so they can’t be seen. 

“...and that was actually crazy,” a girl speaks up, oblivious to how Harry has Y/N pinned against the wall just a few feet away. They are both breathing heavily, but she has her face buried in his shoulder while he covers his mouth with a hand, adrenaline racing through his veins. 

“Ah shit, I’m out of cigarettes,” another girl says.

“Mm let’s get out of here then. I think Max said they are having a little party as well.”

“Okay.”

Then the door opens again and the voices disappear, but reality hits Harry hard in the head.

He slowly pulls back, enough to look at her face and when he sees her swollen lips and slightly smeared mascara he almost combusts. 

Because he wants nothing more than to take her, right here and then everywhere else in the world, but he also realizes what he just did and this time his rational side wins. 

“Fuck,” he gasps as he jumps back, cupping a hand over his mouth.

“I wanted it–”

“Y/N, stop!” he cuts her off. “Fuck, this was a mistake.”

“But I wanted it! You didn’t–”

“I said stop!” he barks and she shuts her mouth right away. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

And before she could protest again or worse, kiss him again, he is already storming back inside, across the house towards the front door.

“Harry! I haven’t seen you all night!” Stella catches him, but he just wants to get as far away from this house and from Y/N as possible.

“I’m sorry, I need to go. I’ll talk to you later,” is all he manages to say before he is already out the door.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Cherry.

Synopsis - The lines of friendship get a little blurry, one unassuming Friday night in December.

Pairing - Bestfriend!Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Warnings - smut. cursing. steve's got an ego, but for good reason.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 2k

Author's Note - hi lovelies!! my first steve fic!! listen, I actually really didn't enjoy stranger things, but... I love this man. he's charming and he's a softie and he's such a good character to write. hope you enjoy this - it's got me all warm and fuzzy. please feel free to send me a christmas request if you fancy, I'm in the mood to write some seasonal fics. much love, always!! <3

as always, reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics!! please, if you enjoyed, consider reblogging this so it gets further reach. comments and feedback are always appreciated!! thanks, angels. <3

Part Two. Part Three. Part Four. Masterlist. Inbox. The Moodboard. Series Masterlist.

Three rocks ping off the panes of your bedroom window in quick succession.

You're applying your moisturiser in the mirror, winding down and almost ready for bed. Your reflection is illuminated by a faint glow from the fairy lights you've draped over the headboard for the festive season, warm and comforting. A soft, jazzy melody is drifting from the radio softly, a welcome noise to break up the silence.

Another rock hits your window.

You fly out of your seat and towards the source of the trouble, worried that he's going to throw one too hard one of these days.

"Steve," you hiss as you yank it open. "Cut it out. Just come through the door."

"Where's the fun in that?" he chuckles, eyes rife with mischief.

You roll your eyes but step back anyway, making room for him to climb the tree and dive through the window into your room.

"Hi, sugar."

"Hi, Steven."

He grins at you, bright and awake despite the late hour.

"Don't you have better plans on a Friday night, King Steve?"

"And miss out on seeing you in your little pink pyjamas? Absolutely not."

You shove at his chest, smacking him upside the head for good measure. He feigns pain and wraps his arms around your middle, picking you up off the ground and spinning you in circles. You shriek, and the sound makes him laugh.

"Okay, okay! I'm dizzy! Put me down!"

He obliges by throwing you unceremoniously onto your bed, smirking when you almost bounce off it.

"So," he begins, sitting down across from you. "How was it? Do you feel like a whole new woman?"

You scoff.

"What? That bad?"

"Yeah, that bad. We didn't even do it."

He quirks a brow in curiosity, tilting his head to look at you.

"I thought tonight was the big night?"

"Yeah, it was supposed to be. But he was kissing me, and it just didn't feel... right? He started grabbing at me and I realised that you can only lose your virginity once - and that definitely wasn't how I wanted to lose mine."

You shrug, trying to play indifference, but Steve can see the hurt in your eyes.

"You always deserved so much better than him."

"Thanks, Steve."

"Come on, Cherry. The guy is an asshole who happens to be attractive. His face is the only thing he's got going for him."

The mention of your childhood nickname has memories of fruit flavoured popsicles on summer days flooding back. Laughter by the pool, pushing Steve in and screeching when he dragged you with him, staying out in the sun until you were both exhausted. Cherry. You've always been Steve's Cherry, for as long as you can remember. You still wear the lip balm he bought you last year, fitting for your moniker.

"You didn't like him from the start. Actually, you've never liked any guy that has ever liked me."

"Because they're not good enough for you."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"And you're the boss of me and my love life now?"

"I'm the person that knows you better than anyone in the entire world. I think I have a pretty good view on things."

You huff, but accept your defeat in knowing that he's right. No one knows you like him. Steve always does this. He pisses you off, but makes you love him a tiny bit more each time.

He grabs your foot from the bed, pressing his thumbs into your sole. You relax instantly, tired of half arguing with him.

"I give up."

"With what?"

"Dating. Fuck it."

He chuckles, rubbing soothing patterns into your ankle gently.

"You've barely even started."

"Ooo, sorry Mr Womaniser."

"Stop it," he chides, pinching your calf. "Maybe The One for you just isn't in Hawkins. This place has always been too small for us anyway."

"Yeah, maybe. It'll all change when we go to college, hopefully."

"Exactly. It'll be a whole different ball game. There'll be tonnes of hot guys begging for your attention."

"And you'll be fighting them off."

"Yes I will."

You laugh, poking him in the chest with your foot teasingly.

"And maybe the college guys will actually know what they're doing in bed."

"Hey, some of us do know!"

"Yeah yeah, Steve's good in bed. I've heard it all before."

"Don't be jealous, Cherry baby."

"Jealous isn't quite the word I'd use."

"No?"

He drops your foot and scoots closer, settling in between your parted legs.

"You're not even a little bit curious what all the rumours are about?"

"Steve," you laugh. "I think they're probably just exactly that. Rumours."

He inches in towards you, so his forehead is almost touching yours. Running his fingers up and down the outside of your thigh, he takes a deep breath in.

"You should let me show you just how much I know. We're not all clueless, Cherry. I'm confident I could make you feel good."

You exhale with a shudder.

"I'm not letting you take my virginity, Steve."

"I don't want to. There's a thousand ways I can make your legs shake without fucking you, baby."

You stare into his big doe eyes, admiring the way a single strand of hair has fallen across his forehead. You look for a shred of doubt, or amusement, but all you see is love. Admiration. Trust. Sincerity.

"Okay," you breathe, before your mind has truly processed what you're saying. "Show me what you got, Harrington."

He grins, slow and saccharine, like the cat who got the cream.

"Steve?" you whisper.

"Yeah?"

"This isn't going to fuck things up between us, is it?"

He smiles, big and bright.

"Never. Nothing is ever going to fuck things up between us. It's you and me forever, Cherry Pie."

You chuckle at the nickname, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

"Well, then what are you waiting for?"

He shakes his head and grabs your ankle, pulling you across the bed and into his body. Wrapping a hand around the back of your neck, he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours.

"If at any point this gets weird, or you don't like it... Just say the words, okay?"

"Okay," you breathe, inhaling the scent of mint from his tongue. "Promise."

"Can I kiss you?"

"You don't usually ask," you tease.

It's no secret that you and Steve have kissed a few times. Once after prom, once at a party here and there, once when you were cuddled in bed comforting him after a break up. But it's never led to anything more. Which is probably why this feels a little different.

"I know, but this is a little more... intense, than usual."

You try to ignore the way your heart swells at his consideration for you, and nod your head gently.

"Kiss me. Please."

Steve wastes no time, leaning in to press his lips to yours. He tastes like spearmint and soda, with a hint of the cherry lipbalm he steals from your nightstand. You instinctively shuffle closer to him, straddling his lap as his arms bracket themselves around you. It's like he can't decide where to put his hands - they're roaming up your back, squeezing your ass, kneading your thighs. He's antsy and impatient, eager to feel you.

"Lie back," he whispers against your mouth, tipping you onto the bed.

Your head hits your pillows and you crane your neck to watch him as he crawls down your body, eyes never leaving yours.

"Steve-"

"Stop thinking so hard, Cherry. I can practically hear your thoughts."

You huff but can't keep the smile off your face, willing your mind to stop racing.

"Let me quiet things down, hmm?"

Steve presses a gentle kiss to the inside of your knee, trailing up and up until he reaches your hip. He licks across your hipbone before nipping it with his teeth, smirking when you gasp.

Grasping the waistband of your pyjama shorts, he asks for permission with his eyes, no words needed. You nod and lift your hips, letting him slide them down your body.

You've never been so exposed, which is causing a sudden realisation that the two of you are crossing a line that can never be uncrossed. As if he can read your mind, Steve presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, tender and full of love.

"Babe, if you want to stop..."

"I don't, I promise. I'm just nervous. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise," he murmurs, resting his head on your thigh and looking up at you. "Never apologise. You're doing so good, Cherry. I love you."

You didn't know what you were expecting, but it wasn't I love you. You've both said it to each other a million times, but something about saying it in this exact moment makes it feel... weighted. You'll talk about it later. You'll make sure of it.

"I love you too. So much."

You're whispering, scared to ruin the peace you've created. Steve kisses your skin again gently, gazing at you like you've hung the stars just for him.

"Let me make you feel good, okay?"

When you nod, Steve nudges your core with his nose, arms wrapping around your thighs to keep you anchored in place.

"So pretty," he's mumbling. "Prettiest fuckin' girl I've ever seen."

He starts slow, easing you in carefully. Kitten licks and gentle nips, testing the waters. When you tangle a hand into his hair and tug, Steve gets the message.

"You want more, pretty baby?"

"Yes," you confirm, more breathless than intended. "Please."

He dives back in, this time with more intention. His nose keeps nudging your clit, the friction licking up your spine deliciously. It's like he can't get enough, eating you out like a man starved.

He groans into your heat, the vibrations making you whine. When he curls his tongue just right, you keen, the sounds leaving your mouth foreign to the both of you.

"Fuck, you sound so beautiful. You're perfect. God, you're perfect."

"Stevie," you pant. "So close."

"I got you. Atta girl, I got you. That's my girl, give it to me."

Maybe it's the my girl, or maybe it's the way he's slipped two fingers into you, but the coil snaps. Your back arches off the bed as white heat engulfs your body, vision going black for a moment. You can hear him talking you through it, loving and encouraging. Eventually, your grip on his hair loosens as you go lax, collapsing back against the comforter.

Steve grins at you as he licks his fingers clean, crawling up your body to kiss you. You groan when you taste yourself, arms wrapping around his shoulders to keep him close. Resting his head on your chest, you run your fingers through his hair, humming gently when he relaxes.

"You okay?"

"Never better," you laugh. "You're good with your mouth, Harrington. I'll give you that."

"Told you the rumours were true."

You shake your head and reach over, grabbing the glass of water from your nightstand and taking a sip. You offer it to Steve without a second thought, rolling your eyes when he downs the rest.

He plucks your cherry lipbalm from the drawer and applies it to himself, before leaning up to carefully do the same to you. He pecks your lips sweetly before returning it to its rightful place.

"You replace it, don't you?"

"Hmm?"

"The chapstick. I've had it for a whole year, and I've never even come close to reaching the end."

He blushes as he looks at you, suddenly bashful.

"It's special," he murmurs. "It's our thing, you know? And it smells good. I like knowing that I'm the only one who knows you taste like cherries."

You want to poke fun at him, say something to make him laugh. But you can't. He's rendered you speechless, for the second time in one night.

"I like knowing the reason you taste like spearmint is because I've been slipping pieces of gum into the pockets of your jeans for ten years."

"I knew it," he laughs, leaning up to kiss you firmly. "I can't tell you the last time I bought gum."

"You're welcome."

Steve shucks off his jeans and his shirt, climbing into your bed with just his boxers on. You slip your underwear up your legs before getting under the comforter with him, tangling your limbs with his.

The tunes from the radio still hum gently as the fairy lights flicker.

The room is unchanged.

The people in it are not.

read Part Two here. Part Three here. Part Four here.

@lillian-gallows @bookish-embroidery-witch @sweetdazequeen @fruityforcocoapuffs @steviespookie @livsters @diffrent-spokes @violet2022 @mrsjoequinn @valerievortex @chrrymunson

[heich0e]

"can i call you later?"

the wind bites at your cheeks, but the sting you feel is as much from the smile on your face as it is from the chill.

"dunno," you muse, pursing your lips as though you're contemplating the question deeply. "can you?"

rintarou groans, but the sound isn't half as plaintive as it ought to be. you watch as his head hangs down defeatedly where his frame is folded over the railing that lines the front of the train station, his body pitched forward over the barrier like he's trying to reach you on the other side.

you've been saying goodbye for the past twenty minutes—or, you've been trying to. sort of. maybe. the train you'd planned to catch has already come and gone, and the next is set to soon arrive. one more and it will be the last of the night, but not even knowing that fact seems to be moving you closer towards the door to the station—content to stay here, like this, as the wind of the late fall night nips at your cheeks and the two of you muddle through your goodbye with the inelegance of two people who couldn't be less committed to it if they tried.

rintarou lifts his head to meet your gaze.

"i mean it, though." he says. "can i call you tonight?"

your stomach flips when he looks at you this way. when he keeps looking at you this way.

"we just spent hours together," you remind him, but your words are too breathy to make impact. too elated to be reproachful.

you've been on three dates with rintarou now. you think they're dates anyway, though it's never explicitly been stated. his invitations are always casual, sandwiched in between all the other texts he sends to you these days, so you might be reading into things too closely for your own good. but dinner doesn't just feel like dinner when rintarou has this way of looking at you like you're the only person he's ever laid his eyes on.

"i know," he answers. it's not an explanation, or an excuse, or even an apology. it's plain acceptance. a shamelessness you find wretchedly endearing.

you glance back at the station behind you, biting the inside of your cheek to temper your delight.

"my train is coming," you say.

he looks a bit crestfallen. laughably glum, considering the circumstances.

you drag the heel of your shoe back ever so slightly, not quite a step—at least not in any meaningful way—but inching in the direction of the doors at a glacial pace. continental drift seems positively hasty in comparison to your retreat.

"bye," he calls, his tone dejected. you watch as he lifts his hand weakly, still slumped over the railing, and waves at you with only a few fingers raised.

you want to laugh, but your chest is so full of something else—something syrupy and fluttering and good—that it's like there's no space for it underneath your ribs.

you call back to him just before you step into the station.

"rintarou—"

there are other people around, stepping between and around you both—rushing into the station to escape the cold, or moving briskly as they brace themselves and step out into it—but you hardly notice them when your eyes meet.

you smile.

"—call me later."

he calls you almost every night after that.

even as the cool autumn winds change with the seasons; carrying flakes of snow as winter blankets nagano, warming with the spring, turning heavy with humidity in summer, and then repeating the cycle anew.

even as your reluctant goodbyes turn from late nights outside of train stations to early morning words whispered under blankets as rintarou leaves for practice or away games.

even as the uncertainty of whether or not you're getting your hopes up—of whether those meetings were even really dates at all—melts away into nothing more than a memory.

you're not even sure what the two of you manage to spend so much time talking about on the phone. nothing, really. everything in its own right. rintarou's phone calls are something you come to look forward to at the end of a long day. something you anticipate when you have exciting news to share. a comfort when you're missing him and a relief when you need him most.

"is that the last one?" you ask, turning just in time to see your boyfriend—your live-in boyfriend now, officially—flop back on the sofa after he drops the last moving box atop the stack piled near the balcony door.

"yeah," he wheezes, evidently winded from the exertion—from the exhaustion—of moving house. you laugh a bit to yourself as you shuffle over to the sofa, leaning over the back so you can peer down at him where he lays sprawled against the cushions.

"aren't you a professional athlete?" you tease him. "shouldn't you have better stamina?"

rintarou cocks a brow, something sly swimming behind his gaze.

"i need better stamina?" he drawls. "you're usually complaining about the opposite."

you roll your eyes in the wake of his remark, grabbing a throw pillow from beneath his head and yanking it from under him unceremoniously, only to press it lightly against his face.

you shuffle back towards the kitchen where you'd left the box you were unpacking abandoned. you grab a plate from inside the cardboard and turn to place it on the shelf you'd decided would house your dinnerware.

"it's late," you tell him, reaching for the next plate in the box. "you should go wash up first."

you don't get a reply, and that surprises you. you creep over to the sofa again, only to find rintarou staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

"hey," you laugh a little, leaning on your elbows against the back of the couch. "where'd you go?"

rintarou's gaze snaps back to yours. he still looks at you like he did on your first date. like he did outside the train station on your third. he smiles, bit it's a bit sheepish.

"sorry, was just thinking," he answers quietly. he reaches up from where he's lying on his back, brushing his thumb against your cheek. his smile turns a little bit giddy, then. boyishly charming. "can't believe we finally got a place together."

you lean into his touch, huffing a little breath through your nose—halfway to a laugh.

"guess you won't have to call me anymore," you joke, and rintarou's expression changes—falls slightly—but only for a moment. you realize what you've said, or at least think about the implications more, and you sort of understand the shift.

you fell in love through those phone calls.

you'll miss them—the ritual, the familiarity, the comfort—even though you know they've been replaced by something better.

you turn your face, pressing a fleeting kiss to rintarou's palm. "go wash up," you tell him again, heading back towards the kitchen and your (now twice abandoned) box of plates.

he seems to heed your advice this time, peeling himself up off the sofa and shuffling off in the direction of the washroom.

"don't use all the hot water!" you call after his retreating frame, and you hear him reply noncommittally under his breath before the door clicks closed behind him.

you've only got three dishes left to unpack before your box is emptied, but the shelf you'd been organizing doesn't seem to want to accommodate all of your bowls in the way you wanted, so you're left arranging and rearranging them as you try to find a way to get them to fit.

in the back pocket of your jeans, your phone begins to ring. with three plates balanced in one hand, you reach for it with the other—the movement muscle memory now, instinct more than volition, after all this time. you answer the call without even looking at the screen, holding the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you continue juggling the dishes in front of you.

"oop—hello?"

you pause after you answer the call, realizing for the first time that you shouldn't be getting a call at all. not at this time of night. not in this apartment.

the line is quiet, just the sound of breathing that you could recognize anywhere to be heard from the other end of the call.

"why are you calling me?" you ask rintarou, but the words are light. too fond to be reproachful.

you hear rintarou laugh—from the other end of the call and from the other side of the bathroom door.

"just wanted to hear your voice," he answers you (the same way he has a thousand nights before when you've asked him that same question.)

"you're ridiculous," you tell him, completely enamoured.

"i know," he replies.

it's quiet for a moment as the two of you stand on opposite sides of your apartment. on opposite ends of your call.

you shift a stack of bowls a little to the left. it all fits now. just the way you wanted it to.

"y'know, the hot water won't run out as fast if we shower together—"

you hear the bathroom door open, and when you look over your shoulder, rintarou is peeking at you from around the edge of the door—his phone held to his ear, a smile on his face you know is mirrored on your own, and a look in his eye that's never once wavered.

he tilts his head.

"—wanna join me?"

[captain-huggy-bear]

Into the Penalty Box

Pairing: Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Jack has to put your son in the sin bin...

Notes: Short but I had this really fun idea for how Jack doles out consequences as a dad.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

"Jack, baby...Carter just bit Ellen." You're tugging Carter along behind you by the wrist gently, he's pouting at the entire way and dragging his feet. Ellen is in your arms sniffling and crying into your shoulder because her big brother (at the tender age of 5 years old) decided that the best way to get rid of his 'annoying' baby sister (of 2) was to bite her. Hard. On the arm.

"Let me see, baby girl." Your daughter holds her arm out to her dad, who's suitably sympathetic, cooing over the teeth marks and pressing a kiss there to 'make it better'. It brings a smile to her little face, tears starting to dry up, but leaving blotchy redness behind.

Once Jack has dealt with the issue of his baby girl crying he turns to his son who you've release your grip on knowing he's unlikely to make a run for it and has typically been pretty good at accepting punishment. Mostly because he's stubborn enough that he always wants to plead his case first.

Jack folds his arms across his chest looking down at the spitting image of himself at 5 years old, light brown near blonde curls, bright blue eyes, chubby blushing cheeks and many missing teeth. Carter is Jack, rowdy, loud, full of energy and from time to time fed up with having a baby sibling who wants his attention all the time. One day he'll grow to love it, hate when his sister stops idolising him, but for now? For now apparently biting has become his new solution and Jack had always taught him that biting was not something they did in their house.

You bounce Ellen in your arms, running a hand over her hair and down her back while you watch Jack crouch down to Carter's level. Jack, despite people's belief, was a disciplinarian. Just not in the usual way...he never shouted, he didn't scream, he didn't insult the kids, none of the typical old school dad stuff, but what he did do always seemed to work.

"Bud, you can't bite your sister."

"But she was being annoying!" It's like watching a second Jack, the way Carter folds his arms across his little chest and puffs out his cheeks as he pouts. You're surprised he didn't stomp a foot on the floor, but it seems he learnt from last time that that only got him more penalty minutes.

"I don't care, it's against the rules, bud, against the code. You've got 5 minutes in the penalty box, get." Jack points to the corner of your living room where the penalty box sits. At first the penalty box had been simply a pillow in the corner, but one summer Jack, Quinn and Luke had spent some time and money making a replica penalty box that sat perfectly in your living room. At first you'd been...less than pleased, but now it was the highlight of your parenting adventures. The way Carter would slam the little door closed, how he'd pout on the bench and drink from the water bottle you always put in there for him as he'd watch the little clock. Whenever he was in hockey gear it was made even better, especially the replica Devils Jersey Luke had gotten him one Christmas. Then it really was like watching a baby Jack sitting in the sin bin.

"But you bite mom!" Carter's face practically goes bright red with his frustration, brows so furrowed they're almost in his eyes and this time he does stomp his feet.

There's a beat of silence, one in which you do your very best not to laugh because Jack's play biting apparently has come back to haunt him. All those times he's come home and pretended to take chomp out of your arm or neck, every time he placed a kiss on your neck in front of Carter only to bite you lightly to make you laugh...

Jack tries everything in his power to remain stern, to not laugh, to not give in because fuck, he's really dug himself a hole with this one, "I nibble on your mom, I don't 'bite' her and I never hurt her. You were trying and succeeded in hurting your baby sister."

"Dad!"

"Do you want another 5 for unsportsmanlike conduct?" Jack's favourite tool whenever Carter or Ellen start to argue back to him, although mostly Carter. Ellen has yet to reach the terrible period of defiance that all toddlers go through.

"No..."

"So into the penalty box, bud." You both watch as Carter slumps off towards the box, slamming the door closed behind him, the wood and plastic wobbling slightly under the force of it.

He sits on the bench, arms crossed, glaring at the clock. Jack sets a timer for 5 minutes and you watch. There's something about watching either of the kids in the box that's interesting because you can see the moment they start to cool down and realise that maybe they're in there for a reason.

With Carter it's the way he starts to look towards Ellen, face scrunched up in guilt, biting on his little lip. You know at 2 minutes and 24 seconds in the sin bin, that Carter will never bite Ellen again and you know that he understands that he hurt her, really hurt her.

It's what has you putting her down and letting her waddle towards the box nearer to the time being over and what has you opening the box a minute early.

You lean into Jack's side and watch as Carter leans down and pulls his baby sister into a hug, before reaching for her arm and placing a kiss on the boo boo where he bite her a little too hard.

"'m sorry, Ellie. I shouldn't have bit you."

"'s okay, Cay-Cay" Because she always struggled to fully say Carter so he'd become Cay-Cay to her. She pats his cheek with her little hand and you know, you know it'll be okay, that you're raising two good kids even if they have their moments.

"Sin bin works again, and you wanted to get rid of it." Jack looks smugly down at you, all dimples and stupidly attractive smirk as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

You roll your eyes at him even as you lean further into him, "Yes, well, I guess you have good ideas sometimes...biter."

"Hey! You love when I bite you...just, maybe need to avoid the jokes around the kids...did not see that coming."

[puckinghischier]

Choices

Jack Hughes x fem!reader

summary: jack proves that he will always choose reader, no matter what anyone has to say

notes: so, the first part of this is literally my favorite thing i’ve ever written. the ending? meh. i don’t hate it, but i definitely think it could have been done better, i just struggle so hard with endings 😭. i also lowkey don’t like the title, but literally couldn’t think of a different one. anyways, i hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼

can be read as a part 2 to this fic, but can also be read by itself

request: Could you write something with Jack getting defensive/choosing her? Maybe he gets cornered by an ex flame or someone about what makes reader so special to get him to commit to a serious relationship when he didn't with her

[6.7k]

“Are you sure I don’t need to dress up tonight? I know you said they’re just some old family friends, but I want to make a good impression,” you question Jack, standing in front of the full-length mirror propped against the wall.

You’re wearing a pale, yellow sundress with daisies imprinted all across the fabric. Jack insisted the Lawsons were just old friends of the family, having owned the house down the street since he was just a kid.

Since meeting Jack’s family last year, you’ve been his plus one to every single trip he’s made home. At thanksgiving he brought you home for a quick, two day trip to meet his grandparents and a few pairs of aunts and uncles, before having to fly out again because of his game schedule. Around Christmas the two of you split your time, spending the actual holiday with your family, then flying to meet Jack’s family for New Year’s activities, where you met several cousins and old school friends of Jack’s.

This year, you’re celebrating the Fourth of July in Michigan, finally getting to experience the infamous Hughes lake house. Jack was able to convince you to spend an entire month here at the large house, telling you the trip was for the Fourth festivities, but suggesting you leave a few weeks beforehand, wanting you to get the full lake house experience.

You had spent your days switching between joining his family on the large pontoon boat sitting at the end of their dock and going out on adventures with Jack alone on the pair of Jet skis Quinn had bought after his first paycheck came in during his rookie year. A few nights a week, Jack would tell you to put on something nice, showing you around the small town a few miles away from the house, taking you to each of his favorite childhood spots for dinner.

One night he had told you to put on the nicest dress you brought, then proceeded to take you to an old, beach themed bar. He sat across from you at the high top table in a collared shirt and khakis, the rest of the patrons around you in their bathing suit cover ups or shorts and t-shirts.

You scolded him, telling him you two looked like fools in there, all dressed up to eat fried seafood. He laughed, telling you the only fool in the room was him, because he was “foolishly and wholly in love with you.” You rolled your eyes at his mushy-ness, a blush making its way to your cheeks at the same time.

That memory, however, is the reason you no longer trust Jack when he tells you to either dress up or dress down for dinners. Including tonight.

“I promise, you don’t have to dress up. You could wear your bathing suit for all I care,” he calls out from the bathroom where he’s ‘fixing’ his hair, which usually means brushing it and then ruffling it around with his hands. “I mean, mom might not be too happy if you’re sitting at the dinner table in just a bikini, but I’d sure enjoy the show.”

You scoff at his words, turning to go and stand in the doorway of the ensuite, crossing your arms.

“I’m being serious, J. I want to make a good impression on these people. They’re really good friends of your parents. Your mom was telling me how you all used to spend almost the entire summer together, constantly over at one another’s houses for dinner and fire talks,” you remember how excited Ellen was to be having her friends over for dinner tonight, claiming she hadn’t seen them in years because of how busy their lives had gotten.

Ellen also mentioned they had a daughter around your and Jack’s age who was in with her parents for the summer. Her name is Sarah and she’s a department director of some big advertisement company in New York. She stopped coming around as often around the same time Jack got drafted to the Devils, according to Ellen. Her job being too demanding for her to make the trip every summer.

You were excited to meet yet another person that knew Jack as a kid. You were hoping to rope a few stories out of her over the course of dinner, wanting to know as much as you can about Jack’s childhood from those around him. Sometimes you really hate the fact that you haven’t known Jack his whole life. You count yourself one of the luckiest people alive to be able to share his life with him now, but you’re always picturing him growing up, wanting to know every detail of what makes Jack, Jack.

Quinn and Luke are always eager to tell you anything you want to know about Jack, from the time he wanted to be “TP man” for Halloween and proceeded to wrap his entire body in toilet paper, wearing the empty rolls on his hands, to the time he wanted to ask his eighth-grade crush out on a date, but instead blurted out that he had to go home to massage their dad’s feet.

You always enjoyed hearing stories about him from people that weren’t his mischievous brothers, though. Like when his grandma told you about the time she got home to see that Jack had rearranged her kitchen cabinets, placing everything he saw her use on a regular basis closer to where she could reach it after watching her drop her favorite mug while trying to put it away on the second highest shelf that morning. Or when his best friend from high school told you about the time Jack gave him a ride home from practice, stopping in to say hello to his parents when Jack heard his little sister crying in her room because she couldn’t figure out her math homework. Jack stayed over for nearly two hours to help the little girl with her multiplication table and gave her words of encouragement the entire time.

You knew Jack was someone special, his calming energy easing your nerves from the first time you ever spoke to him. Hearing the stories that confirm he’s been this way his whole life, from the people that have known him far longer than you, though, makes you burst with so much love for the man you think your heart might actually explode one day.

“And I’m being serious, Sunshine, what you’re wearing is fine and won’t change the fact that they’re going to absolutely love you, just like everyone else does,” Jack walks over to stand in front of you.

You uncross your arms, letting them fall to your sides. Jack reaches down and takes each one of your hands into his, stepping forward slightly.

“I just…I care about how the people that know you view me. It’s important to me that the people important to you know that I love you, not that I’m just trying to ride on the back of some hot shot hockey player,” you whisper, referencing a blog post you were sent by one of your coworkers back in Jersey, asking if the girl in the picture was, in fact, you sitting on Jack’s lap in a crowded bar you went to for a post-game celebration.

The post talked about how you had been seen with Jack at a few games and were seen leaving several bars with him over the course of a few weeks early into your relationship. The blog site was a silly, hockey gossip blog, more concerned about who the players were sleeping with than any of the games themselves, but the accusation made your heart sink nonetheless. You knew you were with Jack for no reason other than you love him and he makes you feel safe, comfortable, and loved. Jack knows you’re not with him for his money, and anyone close to him knows you’re not with him for his money or fame.

He could quit hockey tomorrow and it wouldn’t change even an ounce of your feelings towards him. With or without hockey, he’s still your Jack. The Jack that makes you honey lavender tea every night because he knows it helps you sleep. The Jack that somehow manages to bring you flowers after every home game, no matter how late it is. The Jack that insisted you move in with him after your lease ended because his apartment is closer to your new job, but really because he was tired of not coming home to you every night. The Jack that showed up to your graduation this spring, bringing nearly his whole team and his family, the group cheering so loud when you walked across the stage everyone in attendance laughed, the person handing you your diploma commenting “sounds like you have a few fans out there.”

Even though you know that Jack knows, and his family knows, each time you meet someone new from his life, you feel the need to prove yourself. It’s part of the reason you were so anxious to meet his parents all those months ago. You worry that each person you meet has seen or read an article like the one you were sent. You worry they’ll think you’re not right for Jack, or that you’re only with him to get a taste of the popularity and lifestyle that comes along with his job. All you want is to show them how much you love him for him, and how you never want to leave his side.

Jack looks down at you, bringing your joined hands up to his mouth, pulling them together and kissing your knuckles.

“I promise you, no one here thinks that,” he starts, his words oozing with sincerity. “There is not a single person that matters to me in my life more than you. And absolutely no one’s opinion of you matters to me other than your own. Do you think you’re with me for the wrong reasons?” He asks you, waiting for you to answer him.

You shake your head no, breaking his eye contact.

“Hey, look at me,” he squeezes your hands that are still resting near his mouth, bringing your eyes back to his. “Then absolutely nothing else matters, okay? I know who you are, and you know who you are. Last time I checked, we’re the only two in this relationship, so that’s the only two people I’ll ever be looking to for opinions concerning my choices in this relationship, got it?”

You nod, a little embarrassed you were ever worried in the first place after his small speech, but still needing the hear his words nonetheless.

You’re still looking up at him, opening your mouth to tell him how much you love him when your stomach growls between the two of you, loud enough you nearly jump back.

Jack’s eyes flicker down to your stomach and back up to your eyes, the amusement in them making the blue shade shine even brighter.

“On that note, let’s go get you something to eat,” he chuckles, kissing your forehead before dropping one of your hands, the other still intwined with yours, pulling you out of the room behind him.

Jack led you down to the kitchen, digging around in the fridge to sneak you a snack before everyone sat down for dinner, knowing the meal wouldn’t be ready for at least another hour.

After he was satisfied that you weren’t going to starve, thanks to the small bowl of fruit he found, the two of you walked out to the back deck, joining everyone else.

The Lawsons had already arrived, Jim and Ellen standing on the other side of the large deck, conversing with Mr. and Mrs. Lawson separately.

Mrs. Lawson is a short, slim woman. Her hair is flawlessly styled into a ‘looks lazy but really took an hour’ up do, wearing a light purple, short sleeve pleated dress that fell just above her ankles, a simple pair of sandals on her feet.

Her husband is a tall man with salt and pepper hair, wearing a matching polo shirt and khaki shorts, a pair of Hey Dude brand shoes on his feet.

As soon as the two of you walked out onto the porch, Ellen was immediately halting her conversation to introduce you to the guests.

“Oh! There they are! Aren’t they just dolls? Look at them!” she gushed, walking over to greet the two of you.

You smile warmly at her, your relationship with Jack’s mom almost as dear to you as your relationship with your own. The two of you were able to sit and talk with one another during the hockey game her and Jim had come into town for the first time you met them. You both were invested in the game itself, considering all three Hughes boys were on the ice that night, but the intermissions were full of conversations and stories. You left the rink that night feeling like you had gained another mother, exchanging numbers with Ellen and promising to keep in touch. You now have weekly phone calls with Ellen, her interest in your life and well being matching that of her interest in her son’s.

“Mom, we literally saw you an hour ago on the boat, calm down,” Jack tells her, earning soft smack to his chest from you.

“Don’t be a grump, Jack. She’s telling us how good we look and you choose now to suddenly act like you don’t love being told you look pretty,” you scold.

Jack looks down at you with his mouth slightly open, putting on his best fake offended face.

“See, I told you she keeps him in check for me. Now I don’t have to carry the burden all by myself anymore,” Ellen tells Mrs. Lawson, earning a laugh from the woman standing just behind her.

You and Jack continue to have a small stare down until he conceded, choosing to flash a smile at you instead, sticking his tongue out like a child and earning a small giggle from you.

“Y/N, this is Deborah, but we all call her Deb. Deb, this is Y/N, my new baby girl,” Ellen breaks up yours and Jack’s moment, introducing you to Mrs. Lawson.

“Hi, it’s so nice to meet you Mrs. Lawson,” you say, removing your hand from Jack’s so you could step forward and give a small, greeting hug to the woman in front of you.

“Oh honey, Mrs. Lawson was my mother-in-law, please, call me Deb,” she tells you as she pulls back from the hug.

“Okay, Deb is it,” you laugh, stepping back beside Jack.

“C’mere, I need a hug from you too, Jack,” she motions Jack over to her, your boyfriend walking over to give her a slightly longer hug than you shared with her. “My, you’ve grown up, haven’t you? Last time I saw you, you were just getting ready to declare yourself draft eligible. Now look at you, the real deal.”

Jack blushes as he steps back towards you, knowing how shy he gets when complimented.

He may be cocky on the ice and in interviews, but you’ve learned that when it comes to the people that are close to him, Jack is extremely humble. He turns a light shade of pink any time you compliment how well he played after a game, or when his mom calls to tell him she watched his game on tv and cheered so loud she woke their cat up anytime he scored a goal.

“Just enjoy playing the game, is all,” he slips his hand back into yours. You give it a light squeeze.

“Ron, quit talking golf and get over here! Come say hi to Jack and his girlfriend!” Deb turns and shouts to her husband behind her. Both Mr. Lawson and Jim leave their spot by the heating grill and walk over to join your small group.

“Jack, how are ya, boy?” Mr. Lawson walks up, pulling Jack from your hold, bringing him in by his arm for what you call a ‘guy’ hug, each having one arm slug over the other’s shoulders, their clasped hands trapped between their chests.

“Getting by alright. Happy to have a bit of a break. Couldn’t wait to show Y/N here the ways of the lake house,” Jack motions to where you stand slightly behind him.

“Oh gosh, where are my manners. Hi, sweetheart, I’m Ron,” Mr. Lawson sticks his hand out towards you, shaking it softly.

“Hi, Jack’s told me a lot about you two. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Lawson” you reference both of the Lawsons, repeating part of your greeting to Deb.

“Oh, no, Mr. Lawson is my father, I’m just Ron, dear,” he mirrors his wife’s earlier statement, stepping over to place his arm around her waist.

You chat with the couple a bit longer, noticing after a few minutes that Quinn and Luke are nowhere to be found. Neither was their daughter Ellen had mentioned earlier.

“Not to interrupt, but where are Quinn and Luke?” you ask just as Ellen finishes telling Ron and Deb about a recent cruise her and Jim had been on.

“Oh, they took Sarah out for a spin on the boat before dinner. She said she missed the water, so away they went,” Deb explains, looking over to Jack. “She’s so excited to see you again, Jack. She always talks about wanting to get across the bridge to see a game, but you know her, a workaholic and all.”

You sense a slight rigidness in Jack’s body language at the mention of Sarah. He responds with a simple “Yeah, that’s a shame,” not offering any other words about the mystery girl.

You were confused. You had thought Ellen said the boys were friends with Sarah growing up. Why did Jack tense up when she was mentioned? Had there been some sort of falling out? Was he not excited to see her? He hadn’t mentioned anything when you brought her up earlier, causing you to assume he just didn’t know much about her, having lost contact after they both were busy and didn’t have as much time to spend at the lake anymore.

As soon as Jack had finished speaking, you heard loud laughter coming from the long deck at the end of the house’s yard, seeing three figures quickly approaching the porch you were standing on.

“See, told you I could still beat you, just like when I was a kid!” you hear an unfamiliar voice call out, footsteps coming up the wooden stairs leading to the porch.

“Not fair, you didn’t tell me it was a race until you were already at the end of the deck,” you recognize the voice this time, Luke uttering his words between fast breaths.

As you look towards the stairs, you see one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen in your life step onto the porch.

She had jet black hair that fell to her mid back, perfectly pin straight. She had the greenest eyes you think you’d ever seen, and her tan skin was a shade that people usually had to be photoshopped to achieve. She was wearing a sundress similar to yours, but hers was a baby blue color, complementing her skin tone and hair perfectly. It fell right at her mid-thigh, and had a floral print running across the fabric.

“Hey, everyone. Hope we didn’t miss dinner,” she said, waltzing over to the wet bar to grab a bottle of water as Luke and Quinn make their way up the stairs, coming to stand a few feet from you and Jack.

“Oh, not even close, honey. You’re just in time. Your dad and Jim were just about to put the chicken on the grill,” Deb tells her daughter, beaming at her.

She walks over to join everyone, not stopping until she’s stood right in front of Jack.

“Oh, Jacky! I’ve missed you so much! It’s been so long!” she wraps him in a hug. His arms stay pinned to his sides, his body going rigid with discomfort. You notice the looks from Quinn and Luke, confused at their wide eyes.

He coughs, causing her to detach herself from his body, but not removing her hand from his shoulders.

“Well, that hockey training sure has been good to you, hasn’t it Jacky,” she continues, squeezing his biceps with a smirk before dropping her hands, completely ignoring you.

The second her hands leave his body, Jack is stepping back over to you, placing his hand on your waist.

“Uhh, Sarah, this is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, Sarah,” Jack says, squeezing you to his side.

“Oh! You’re the new girlfriend my mom was telling me about. How sweet!” she coos, placing her hand on her chest. “Jack, she’s so pretty. But, what happened to Macey? You know, the one with the pretty blonde hair? Oh, and the absolute insane body. Seriously, I need her personal trainer’s number,” she asks, looking around at everyone.

You think about your brunette hair and know exactly what she’s trying to do.

“Not in the picture anymore. Didn’t really like the fact that she kept sticking her tongue down some Philly player’s throat when she came to visit me during an away game,” Jack spat out, grinding his teeth.

“What a shame. I liked her,” Sarah waved it off, making a small pout with her lips. “But, I’m sure you’re great too!” she added as an after thought, flashing the fakest smile you’ve ever seen.

You feel a presence step up behind you, Quinn slyly whispering “ex-girlfriend” in your ear, suddenly making Jack’s body language and her backhanded warmth towards you make sense.

“Okay, well, time to go get the food on the grill. Food will be ready in around thirty,” Jim claps his hands together, sensing the need to break up the awkward moment.

“Oh great, I’m absolutely starving,” Sarah exaggerates her last word, turning and walking towards the sliding glass door leading to the kitchen.

You stand there, not knowing how to process what just happened, Jack’s grip on you as tight as ever. You look over to Ellen, who gives you a sympathetic look.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Deb sighs and shakes her head in amusement, completely oblivious to her daughter’s fake niceness and obvious flirting with Jack. “She’s something else, isn’t she? Such a little firecracker,” she reflects, nothing but adoration in her tone and on her face.

“Yeah, one that backfires into the innocent bystanders,” Quinn mumbles under his breath, earning a snort from Luke. Ellen shoots them a glare, darting her eyes towards Deb to see if she heard, but the older woman was still staring adoringly at her daughter in the kitchen through the glass doors.

Thirty minutes later, just like Jim announced, everyone was sat at the large outdoor table, food covering the large surface.

The food was amazing, the bowl of fruit from earlier long gone as you sat down to fill your plate, wanting seconds of almost everything.

“Jack, will you hand me the potato salad, I swear, I can’t get enough of it,” you ask your boyfriend who’s sitting to your right.

He reaches over and grabs the bowl, scooping a spoonful on to your plate for you. “That good? Or you want more?”

“No, that’s good. Gotta save room for dessert,” you tell him, picking up your fork to dig in.

Jack places his hand on your thigh, smiling over at the little happy dance you do when you scoop the potato salad into your mouth.

“Oh, I’m so full,” you hear Sarah say, raising her voice to make sure the whole table hears her. “I wish I could be like you, Y/N, I’d love to have seconds, but I just cannot hold another bite, I’m already so bloated as it is,” she places her hands over her stomach to emphasize. “You’re so lucky you’ve already snagged a man and don’t have to worry about watching what you eat anymore.”

You stop mid-chew, her words sinking in.

You look around the table, everyone looking at you. Deb and Ron are smiling at you, not at all reacting to their daughter’s words, likely not even understanding the connotation of what she just said. Ellen and Jim are looking at Sarah, their eyebrows raised in shock. Quinn is glaring at her while Luke’s mouth is dropped open.

Jack’s hand is digging into your thigh, his other hand closed, clenches in a tight fist on the tablet next to his glass of water.

You finish chewing your food and swallow thickly, placing your fork down and sliding your plate away from you.

“Oh, no, don’t stop on my account. I’d kill to be able to be as comfortable as you are. Not having to worry about impressing anyone anymore, just being able to know you’re loved, no matter what you look like,” she continues, taking a sip of her water to hide her smirk.

You bow your head, your face a shade of red you can physically feel, refusing to meet anyone’s eye.

Luke coughs, a faint “bitch” heard by your ears.

“Okay, I think it’s time we clear the table for dessert, shall we,” Ellen pipes up, her own smile strained.

“Great idea, let me help you,” Deb, either still oblivious or intentionally ignoring the hurtful nature of her daughter’s words, starts to stand.

“No, I got it,” Jack surprises you by standing, taking everyone’s plates and quickly stomping off of the porch.

You could feel the anger radiating off of him when Sarah was talking, probably choosing to leave the area before he said something he would regret.

“Here, let me help, too,” Sarah stands, taking a few food dishes in her hands and stepping inside behind Jack before anyone could protest.

The table is silent after she leaves. You sit there, debating on just sliding out of your seat and under the table, wanting to hide. Luke, who was sitting next to you, brings his hand over to rest on your shoulder, trying to provide some comfort.

You look over at him to see a concerned look as he mouths a silent “You okay?”, nodding your head yes, despite the heavy feeling in your stomach.

You look up again, straight at Sarah’s parents, wondering how they can be so ignorant about their daughter’s malicious words.

You meet Ellen’s eye, seeing a sad, pleading look, begging you to forgive her with her expression. You give her a small smile, shaking your head to tell her it’s alright.

Ron is the one to finally break the silence, looking around at everyone with a genuine smile, once again proving your suspicion they’re unaware of the shift in atmosphere.

“Ellen, please tell me you made your famous cheesecake. It’s been too long since I’ve had a slice,” he speaks, unable to read the room.

Ellen partakes in empty small talk with Deb and Ron about how she makes her cheesecake when you decided you need to go check on Jack.

“I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go help Jack,” you say flatly, standing from your seat and all but running inside, the urge to walk over and shake the Lawsons while shouting “your daughter’s a bitch!” in their face your cue to leave the table.

You enter the kitchen, seeing the dishes both Sarah and Jack brought in littering the counter, but neither one of them was to be found in the spacious area.

You walk through the house, calling out Jack’s name softly as you pass the stairs, making your way to the small sitting room at the front of the house.

“Jack, I don’t get it. What does she have that I don’t? What about her makes her any better than me?” you hear the sound of Sarah’s voice coming from the foyer.

“What the hell do you mean? Everything! She has everything you don’t!” you hear Jack exclaim, stopping in your tracks.

Were they talking about you?

“Jack, we were good together! We had fun. I don’t understand why you ended things between us. Hell, I took a job in New York because you said you were probably going to New Jersey to play. We could have been the new it couple of New Jersey!” it was Sarah’s turn to raise her voice.

Jack shakes his head, a dry laugh making its way out of his mouth. “What part of I didn’t want to don’t you understand?” Jack spits out. “You had fun. You chose to move to New York. You thought were good together. There was never any we in any of that.”

You can practically see the veins popping out on Jack’s forehead through his tone, even though they were out of view.

“All you ever cared about when we were together was the fact that I was about to play professional hockey. You didn’t care about me, you just cared about what I could offer you!” he shouts again. “The fact you just admitted you cared more about being the “it” couple more than you cared about wanting to be with me proves it.”

“Well, sue me for wanting to live the life of the rich and famous,” Sarah says, scoffing.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” Jack huffs out. “Y/N doesn’t care about living the life of the rich and famous. She just wants me. She wants Jack, not ‘Jack Hughes, star forward, number one overall draft pick’,” he puts on his announcer voice.

“All my life, people have only ever cared about how well I played hockey. Every coach, every teammate, every girl. They all saw me as a hockey player. They wanted me on their team, or in their bed, because they wanted what came with me: attention and popularity,” Your heart breaks at Jack’s voice, never having heard him sound so deflated before.

“Hell, you introduced me to people as a future professional hockey player before you ever introduced me to them as your boyfriend,” he continues. “With Y/N, that’s far from the most interesting thing about me. When she first introduced me to her family, she told them I was her best friend’s brother,” he refers back to the first time you took him home to meet your family, the subject of hockey not coming up until your dad asked if he liked sports, only to berate him for not being a football player. Later that night he asked him how hockey worked. Your dad has never missed a Devils game since, either in person or on tv.

“Her favorite fun fact to tell people about me isn’t a stat, or how many hat tricks I’ve scored,” he keeps going. “It’s that I love to sing Shakira when I’m in the shower. Or that I’m the only other person other than her dad that has ever made her laugh so hard water has come out of her nose,” Jack lightly laughs.

“Hey, Y/N, everything okay-“ you hear Quinn’s voice rounding the corner.

Cutting him off with a “shhh” you place your finger on your mouth to tell him, and Luke who trails behind him, to be quiet, pointing to the sitting room where Jack and Sarah are arguing.

“So, yeah, I would say I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted out of me, but I’m not. I’m not sorry that I broke things off with you. I’m not sorry that I found someone that actually loves me for who I am. And I’m not sorry that I brought the woman that I plan on marrying here with me, and you just so happened to be here too,” Jack tells her, his voice still holding a slight trace of anger.

“I am sorry that I never told my parents what really went down between us, telling them we just agreed it would be too hard and we needed to go back to being friends, because maybe they wouldn’t have invited you over tonight. I am sorry that I didn’t take Y/N out for dinner, trying to avoid what’s happening right now. I am sorry that you can’t begin to fathom someone can see through your forced smiles and backhanded comments, seeing how cold and rotten you really are on the inside. And I am sorry that your poor, sweet parents were given such a malicious bitch as a daughter,” He finishes.

“You know, my mom said Ellen told her you showed her a ring, but I thought it was just a gift. You’re really going to propose to her?” Sarah asks, annoyance clear in her voice, spitting out her last word with unmistakeable disgust.

“Of course it’s true. Bought the ring months ago, been carrying it around with me every since. Showed mom the night she met her, told her I was serious about her and that she’s the one. I think part of me knew that from the moment I met her,” you hear Jack say, hearing the tenderness in his voice when the subject turns to you.

Your head whips over to Luke and Quinn, your eyes wide and your mouth handing open. The panicked look on their faces is all the confirmation you need to know that you heard Jack right. He bought you a ring. He bought you a ring and showed his mom. He bought you a ring and showed his mom and was going to propose to you.

Before you know what you’re doing, your body is leading you to the entryway where your boyfriend is arguing with his ex-girlfriend.

“Y/N, no, wait,” Quinn tries to stop you, but it’s too late.

“You bought me a ring?” you ask as you enter the room, seeing Jack and Sarah standing several feet apart from each other.

“Oh, great, the woman of the hour,” Sarah rolls her eyes at you, throwing her arms up and letting them fall to her side.

You shoot her a glare, not at all concerned about her comments from earlier anymore.

You turn your head to Jack, who’s face looked as panicked at Luke and Quinn’s.

“Jack, you said you bought me a ring. Is that true?” you ask him, begging him to answer you.

Jack gulps, nodding his head yes.

“Right…” is all you can say, trying to digest what’s happening.

You look back and forth between Jack and Sarah, your gaze finally landing on the unimpressed one of Sarah.

“Listen, I don’t care what happened between you and Jack however many years ago, but I don’t appreciate you coming to his family’s house and acting like a nasty bitch to me because you got dumped and I’m the one getting the ring,” you tell her, earning a shocked scoff from her. “So, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you took your nasty attitude and sad insecurities out of this house and elsewhere. I have something I need to discuss with the man that chose me .”

You hear the faint snorts of Quinn and Luke behind you, while Jack’s face moves from panicked to shocked as he looks between the two of you.

“God, you don’t have to ask me twice. All of this melodrama is giving me a headache. You’re not worth this. I can get any guy from the Knicks roster, I don’t need to waste my time on hockey players anymore,” Sarah says before she storms out of the room.

You watch her go, giving her a sweet smile and a wave on her way out.

“That was…the hottest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” Jack tells you, walking over to where you stood.

You roll your eyes at him, hitting him in the chest once he gets close enough to you.

“Ow! What was that for?” Jack asks you, rubbing where you thumped him

“For not telling me that Sarah was your ex-girlfriend when I was telling you how excited I was to meet her earlier” you exclaim while looking up at him, poking him in the chest with each word

“I didn’t want you to feel like you had anything to be worried about and get even more in your head about this dinner,” he tells you, grabbing your finger and pushing your hand down to your side.

“Yeah, well a lot of good that did,” you roll your eyes, bringing your hand up to softly smack his chest again.

“God, woman, stop hitting me!” Jack yelps again. “What the hell was that one for?”

“For buying me a ring only a few months into our relationship! And then for not telling me you were going to propose, you idiot!” you exclaim, throwing your arms around.

“Well, I don’t know if you know this or not, but most proposals are usually a surprise,” he tells you, grabbing your arms and holding them apart, preventing you from hitting him again.

“Still. Why would you buy it so soon into us dating, Jack? What if you ended up hating me once we hit six months, or you found out I snored and decided you didn’t want to share a bed with me for the rest of your life?” you ask him, earning a laugh from your boyfriend.

“I knew that you were it from the moment I met you. There’s absolutely no chance of me ever getting sick of you, or hating you,” Jack tells you honestly, the intensity behind his eyes causing you to believe his words. “Also, you do snore, and I think it’s cute, don’t worry.”

You try to hit his chest again, but your arms are still being held by his hands.

“So, is this a good time for me to say I never really liked Sarah,” Luke chimes in, reminding you that him and Quinn are standing in the entrance of the room.

“Luke, you’re such an idiot,” Quinn tells him, flicking him on the back of his curly head.

“What? It’s true. I liked Y/N the second I met her, but Sarah was always just a bitch,” Luke rubs the back of his head as he speaks. “Why do you think Quinn and I took one for the team and took the wicked witch out on the boat so we could keep her out of your hair for as long as possible?”

“Thanks, Luke,” you chuckle, shaking your head.

“Well, I guess it’s time to tell mom that she knows you’re proposing,” Quinn says, looking towards Jack.

“Oh, no, no one is going to know that she knows. I had this whole thing planned out, and I’m not letting Y/N ruin her own proposal,” Jack says, finally letting go of your hands.

“Do I at least get to see the ring?” you ask him, hopeful.

“Nope,” Jack shakes his head, popping the ‘p’.

You huff, crossing your arms and looking at him with a pout, until you remember his words from a few minutes before.

“Wait, you told Sarah you carry the ring with you everywhere, does that mean it’s here? In this house?” Jack’s face falls, eyes looking anywhere but your own.

“No…”

Your face lights up, looking towards the stairs before back at Jack, turning and making a run for your room.

“Oh no, you don’t!” he runs after you, catching up to you in no time.

He grabs you by your torso and swings you around, sitting you back at the bottom of the stairs as he guards them.

“Not fair, your stupid hockey speed and reflexes can shove it,” you pout again.

As you stand at the bottom of the stairs, Quinn and Luke watch the two of you, admiring how perfect the two of you are for each other.

Luke thinks back to when he decided to introduce you to his older brother, knowing he made the right decision, the two of you bringing out the best versions of the other.

And when he stands, hidden with his family as he watches his brother get down on one knee, proposing to the girl that stood at the bottom of the stairs, demanding to see her ring, he knew sneaking into Jack’s room and moving the ring to his own room was the right move, the shock on your face worth the two week long silent treatment you gave him when you found out what he had done.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

receipts

Summary: Did you ever want to show off something so badly, because there's no way in hell people would believe you, that you took a video of it? Well that's how you felt about Frankie when he ate you out. And after raving about him on a girls night they joke that you should film him, so they can see for themselves. Surprisingly he's super into that idea when you tell him about it after.

Pairing: Francisco Morales x fem. reader

Wordcount: 3k

Rating: E

Warnings: smut (oral sex; f receiving), making a video of said smut, dirty talk, alcohol, general horniness

A/N: Enjoy this filth, cause there's a chance this is gonna be the last one for a while. Will focus on my Javi series from now on and hope the braincells agree with me

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Full Masterlist // Frankie Morales Masterlist

„Come on, I just need five more minutes,“ Frankie was kissing up a line on your neck as you stood in front of the sink, trying to apply your lipstick. 

Again. 

You were already fifteen minutes late, your new boyfriend Frankie having insisted he only needed five more minutes which, of course, was a lie. But who were you to complain about being eaten out and made cum twice on his tongue. 

Fuck, he was so good at that. 

You had a couple of boyfriends before Frankie, but no one had been as eager as him when it came to all things sex.

Mostly the men you’ve been with before thought foreplay consisted of fingering you for twenty seconds before they wanted you to suck their cock. 

You hadn’t even seen Frankie’s cock before you had been dating for almost two months, let alone touched it. He on the other hand let no opportunity go by to have you moaning his name, his head between your thighs or his fingers deep inside your cunt. 

Or both. 

„Later, baby,“ you took a deep breath and turned around, smiling at the adorable pout he gave you. You booped his nose and he smiled, kissing you very softly so he wouldn’t ruin your lipstick.

Again. 

„Want me to pick you up after?“ He asked, hands slowly moving down your back until his hands rested on your ass. 

„You don’t have to. I can take an uber home. It’s closer from the bar anyway,“ you said and he hummed. 

„What if I wait for you at your place?“ He asked and you smiled. 

„Can’t get enough of me, huh Morales?“ You teased and he shook his head. 

„Never,“ he grinned before he kissed you, leaving you to apply your lipstick for a third time once he was finished with you this time. 

You finally made it to the bar, thirty minutes too late. Frankie had driven you and you had given him your key so he could go to your place. He had picked up his toolbox so you were pretty sure he would be working on the sink that had been leaking for some time. And on the broken door. And maybe that Ikea table you had picked up and never build. He had noticed it the last time he was over at your place and insisted he took care of it. 

It wasn’t like you were spending much time at your place at the moment. 

You and Frankie had been dating for four months now, and you mostly spend your time at his place. Not because he didn’t like to stay at yours but because he had the bigger house. It was a small two story home on the outskirts of town, but he had made it his. You could see him in every corner of the home and you were absolutely in love with it. 

He also had a pool and with the hot summer you had you preferred to let the day tune out in his pool with a cold beer or iced tea. 

God, you were so in love with him it annoyed you sometimes. 

„Oh thank god, I’m not the only one too late,“ you sighed relieved as you sat down next to your friend Emily. She hugged you, kissing your cheek and you were attacked from the other side as your friend Carol sat down. 

„Katy is running behind. The babysitter’s car broke down. But she’ll be here in like ten minutes,“ Emily said. You ordered drink as you waited, catching up on life. Yeah, you spoke to each other frequently, but the older you got the more complicated it got to get everyone at the same place at the same time. 

Once the drinks and Katy were there, you felt all eyes on you and you sipped on your drink like you had all the time in the world. 

„Spill those beans babe. We know where you met Frankie but other than that we know almost nothing!“ Emily said excitedly and you grinned. 

„What do you wanna know?“

„Everything!“ They all said and you laughed. 

„Okay. So Frankie is 36 years old. He’s ex military and he owns a little massage place in the city,“ you began. 

„The massage place you met at?“ Katy asked and you nodded. 

„Yeah. Got a gift card and my back felt like shit so I went one Saturday and the only one around was Frankie. He works all weekend when his daughter is at her mom’s,“ you explained. 

„How old is she?“ Emily asked.

„Turns five in may. She’s adorable. And such a Daddy’s girl,“ you smiled. You remembered how anxious you were to meet her for the first time. It hadn’t been that long ago, only six weeks before. 

She was staying the majority of the time with him, so you knew if she hated you, things with Frankie would be over pretty quickly. Thankfully she liked you right away, both of you bonding over your love for nail polish. It was actually the first thing she said to you. That you had the prettiest nails she’d ever seen. 

„And she stays with him often?“ Kate asked. You nodded. 

„She lives with him full time. And when her mother is in town they arrange sleepovers. She’s pretty chill actually. Works as an stewardess so she’s away very often,“ you explained and they all nodded. 

„So the first time you met him you were naked?“ Carol asked and you rolled your eyes. 

„No, the first time I met him I was dressed. Ten minutes later I was naked and he had his hands on me,“ you chuckled and they all laughed. 

„I didn’t know if he was just quiet but he did not say a word to me for the entire time. Which was sad cause I really wanted him to talk to me. I think I liked him from the first moment on,“ you said quietly.

„Anyway, after he’s finished he tells me that he’ll wait outside, so I get dressed quickly, wanting to get out of there but before I could leave the place Frankie asked me if I would like to go out with him sometime. And well, I said yes,“ you shrugged and they all grinned at you. 

„It’s been about time that you got lucky too, babe. And I hope you are getting lucky a lot,“ Emily raised her eyebrows and you blushed, cheeks warming as you bit your lip. 

„You have no idea. I never thought sex could be that good, honestly,“ you said. 

„I mean he owns a massage place, I bet he’s great with his hands,“ Katy wiggled with her eyebrows playfully.

„Details,“ Kate demanded and you laughed. 

„Nuh uh. I am not drunk enough for that. And I am hungry,“ you pursed your lips. 

„So we gotta get you drunk is what I get from that,“ Emily winked and you rolled your eyes. 

Two hours and numerous drinks later you were chewing on some mozzarella stick as you listened to Katy tell you about the cockring she got her husband and how much they both enjoyed it. 

„He’s lasting so much longer. It’s a win win for everyone involved,“ she said seriously and you all barked a laugh. 

„So babe, are you drunk enough to spill the beans now?“ Emily asked and you hummed. 

„Haven’t told you that his callsign at the military was Catfish,“ you began and they all looked at you confused. 

„But it’s not because of the reasons you might think….“

„No honestly. He’s so good at it, I wish I could make a video and show it to everyone. Which I can’t cause ya know but…. Fuck…. I’ve never ever had a man that loved eating pussy that much,“ you said and they all looked at you with open mouths. 

„He made you cum four times? On his tongue?“ Katy asked a little too loud and some heads turned towards your table. 

You felt your cheeks growing hot and just nodded while they groaned. 

„Hey if you ever decide to take a video, we have all seen each other’s vag soooo….“ Katy smirked and your eyes widened before you uttered a oh my god under your nose, making everyone laugh. 

Yet the thought of it didn’t leave you alone. Frankie picked you up and was the perfect gentlemen as he took you to bed, cuddling himself against your back after the made you drink a whole glass of water and take an aspirin. 

The next morning you woke up with your head on his chest, looking up at him as he slept peacefully. 

He was so pretty. And he was all yours. 

And part of you wanted to show him off in every aspect. Even if you just kept it for yourself. 

„I can hear you thinking,“ he mumbled sleepily before his eyes fluttered open. You couldn’t stop but smile as you looked at him all cute and sleepy. 

„Don’t know what you mean,“ you mumbled and he grinned. 

„Does it have to do with your friends calling me Catfish when I picked you up?“ He said and your eyes widened, having completely forgotten about that. 

Hiding your face against his chest you felt him chuckle, arms coming around you. 

„Hey I know what you do on those girls nights. You get drunk and talk about the dick size of your boyfriends,“ he teased and you laughed. 

„That is…. Not completely untrue,“ you mumbled against his chest before you looked up at him again, finding him tiredly grinning down at you. 

„So what had you thinking so hard just now?“ He asked, one of his hands coming to brush over your cheek. 

„Just something my friend said,“ you said and he raised one eyebrow. 

„I told them about that time you made me cum four times on your tongue,“ you said, a little shy and he smirked, clearly still proud of himself. 

„What about it?“ He asked. 

„Just… that you’re so good at it that, that I wish I could take a video to show around,“ you said in one breath and now both of his eyebrows raised. 

„That something you wanna do? Show everyone just how good your man can make you cum?“ He hummed and you shivered at the tone of his voice. 

„Maybe…“ you said sucking your bottom lip in. 

„Well then come on,“ he grinned and you eyes widened just before he pulled himself up and turned you so you were laying on your back with him on top of you. He kissed you, humming against your lips. 

„What?“ You laughed. 

„If you wanna show me off so badly, who am I to stand in the way of that?“ He grinned, kissing your nose. 

„It’s a compliment really. You thinking I am so good at eating your pussy you want everyone to know,“ he kissed you, „to see,“ he kissed you again and you sighed.

„You would really be okay with me showing you around like that?“ You asked, still surprised. He shrugged. 

„It’s your pussy. You can show it to whoever you want,“ he said before he frowned and you suppressed a laugh. 

„Okay maybe not whoever you want. Not that I want to dictate who you show your pussy to,  it is a pretty pussy after all but…“ he rambled and you giggled, holding one finger against his mouth to stop him. 

„Frankie?“ You stopped him and he looked at you with wide eyes. 

„How about we decide later if and who I show my pussy to?“ You asked and he nodded. 

„Good idea,“ he huffed a laugh before he kissed you again. 

„Get your phone out,“ he mumbled against your lips and you shivered, but you blindly reached for your phone, finding it on the bedside table. 

He kissed down your body before he pushed your shirt up, his eyes lighting up once he saw your tits, leaning down to let the scruffy hair of his beard scratch over them, making you hum. He grinned up at you as he kissed the soft skin, nibbling on your nipple before he sucked one of them into his mouth. 

Meanwhile you shakily opened the camera app on your phone, pressing record. He grinned, nipple still in your mouth as he wiggled his eyebrows playfully. 

„Feels good baby,“ you smiled, the hand that wasn’t holding your phone coming down to brush your fingers through his soft hair. 

„Yeah?“ He mumbled, lips still against your skin as he slowly kissed a line down your stomach. He sat himself up, pushing the covers away, your phone recording his full body as he stretched, arms over his head. 

He was so fucking pretty. 

„Want this?“ He asked, wrapping his hand around his cock, pumping it slowly as he looked at you. 

You nodded, lip between your teeth. 

„Gonna need you to say it baby. The audience can’t see you giving me your fuck me eyes,“ he teased and you chuckled, before throwing a pillow at him. 

You put one of your feet up to his chest and he grabbed it, kissing your ankle.

„Get between my thighs and eat my pussy, Francisco,“ you hummed with a smirk and he huffed, shaking his head with a grin. 

„As you wish,“ he winked before he lowered himself down on the mattress, his big hands pushing your thighs apart, his tongue swiping through your folds as soon as his mouth was close to you. 

His arms wrapped around your thighs, pulling your whole body towards him as he got settled between your legs, his eyes on your pussy, the camera capturing the hungry look in his eyes before he looked up at you.

The look he was giving you was downright sinful, before his lips slipped into only the hint of a smirk as he leaned down and began to eat your pussy. 

He started slowly, his tongue teasing you, his fingers opening you up for him. 

Frankie hummed when his tongue slipped inside of you, his nose right on your clit. 

„Always taste so fucking good, baby,“ the groaned and you gasped as his tongue began to play with your clit. It took all your willpower to keep your phone in your hand to capture it all, even zooming into the way his tongue was working on you. 

He sucked your clit into his mouth, eyes on you while he swiped his tongue over it and you moaned, your hand coming down on top of his head, pulling at his hair as he worked on making you cum. 

And you were so close. 

„Baby….“ You gasped, your hips moving up to get even closer and he hummed against you, your legs shaking in his hold.

He focused all of his attention on your clit and you could feel the first waves of your orgasm.

„Cum for me baby,“ he mumbled against your folds, before he sucked harshly on your clit and you exploded. Moaning his name as you came, somehow still managing to film him, missing the way his eyes were looking directly into your camera as he worked you through your orgasm. 

You would only find out about that later when you watched it. 

„Fuck,“ you gasped, not even fighting him when you felt him take the phone from you, his mouth parting from you. 

„Look at how she’s drooling for me,“ he said and you looked at him as he brought your phone down between your legs, his fingers exposing your folds to the lens. 

„She’s so fucking warm and tight,“ he said, and you looked at him, lips still parted as your breathed heavily. 

„Can just slip two of my fingers inside,“ he said while slowly pushing two of his fingers inside of you, making you moan a low oh fuck as he did so. 

He pulled his fingers out, filming the way his fingers were covered in your cum, a thin line of it connecting his parted fingers. 

„So fucking good,“ he hummed, before he sucked his fingers into his mouth, all captured by your phone. 

„Oh my god Frankie,“ you said with a disbelieving laugh and he just winked at you before he threw the phone onto the bed and got on top of you. 

„Need to fuck you,“ he said as he kissed you and you wrapped your legs around him. 

„Please,“ you mumbled against his lips, gasping when his cock pushed inside of you. 

It was on your birthday some months later that you sat around the fire pit in Frankie’s garden with your friends. You had moved into his house only weeks before and your friends were visiting you there for the first time. 

„You really made a video?“ Emily asked and you sucked you bottom lip in, nodding slowly. 

„Several actually,“ you confessed and they hollered, making you laugh as you caught Frankie’s eyes where he was standing at the grill. 

„He even told me I could show you,“ you confessed and they all looked at you with wide eyes. 

„But… I am not drunk enough to show them to you,“ you said, chuckling when Katy reached for the bottle of Prosecco on the table, filling your glass. 

„We can work on that,“ she said, making you all giggle. 

„Who knows? Maybe we have the next big porn star sitting with us here,“ Emily teased and you smiled to yourself, deciding to not tell them about how Frankie and you had discussed maybe looking into setting up an onlyfans account after you had watched all the videos you made. 

„Yeah,“ you said as you watched Frankie walk towards you. 

„Who knows.“

[dollesung]

SWEET VENOM .ᐟ

PAIRING. jake x fem reader. GENRE. nsfw. REQUESTED? no. WORD COUNT. 3.9k. SYNOPSIS. your inexperienced virgin of a best friend, jake, tries to ask you for sex advice. WARNINGS. sub!jake, dom!reader, mentions of sex, alcohol & drugs, a little dialogue heavy, inexperienced jake, reader is the same age as jake, handjob, corruption kink, kind of dubcon (but not really). minors do not interact.

NOTE. this is my first sub!enha work. english is not my first language. please bear with me. send requests thru my asks please.

Jake knew he wasn’t really that much of an experienced guy when it came to sex.

Although he was smart, maybe only academically, he really did pride himself on being more on the intelligent spectrum. Top of his class, graduated valedictorian, and was voted most likely to become the president someday, Jake was an absolute unit.

But when it came to sex? He was a clueless virgin.

He was already twenty-two, almost a college graduate, and yet here he was, with absolutely little to no knowledge of how to "do the deed," as one might say.

In his defense, sex was never really a priority.

He spent most of his teenage years studying, being a high school scholar, and all. In the off chance that he wasn't, Jake was usually doing extracurricular activities or helping his folks out at home. He did have a social life, but most of the people he hung out with were co-academics, people who focused more on being a good student, the kind your parents would love for you to hang out with.

MORE UNDER THE CUT.

Enter you, his best friend.

The two of you really personify the phrase "opposites attract" as you and Jake could be no more different from one another. The two of you were friends since childhood, as your families were next-door neighbors for years.

If Jake was academically inclined, let's just say you weren't.

You were a bit of a rebel. From a young age, you'd learned how to sneak out of your house to attend a party you weren't allowed to attend. You spent your entire high school life defying your parents and hanging out with the wrong people. Most of your friends were delinquents just like you, and you spent most days skipping classes and drinking alcohol you bought from convenience stores using a fake ID.

Of course, Jake was the only proper friend you had.

Despite attending two different universities in college, the two of you would always make an effort to catch up whenever you were both home, mostly during summer breaks or the holidays.

Like now, for example.

It was summer break for the two of you, one of your last ones, since both of you were graduating in a couple of months. You invited Jake over, with the promise of some cheap beer you smuggled from your dad’s stash in the kitchen, and a whole semester’s worth of stories to share.

“—so, we were in the sidewalk, and a fuckin’ police car comes around the corner,” you were in the middle of telling Jake the story of how you almost got arrested for the nth time. He’s sitting on your bed with a bottle in hand, quietly listening to you yap.

You’re sat on a chair by the bed, facing Jake. You’ve also got a bottle in your hand, but unlike Jake, this one isn’t your first beer of the night.

You continue your story. “I start running away, and Yujin and the others start running away, but Mark was still pissing at the side of the road so we had to fuckin’ drag the fucker while he was peeing, seriously I couldn’t stop laughing.”

Jake laughs at your story with you, taking sips of his beer as you talked. You remember the day you taught him how to drink. He was a month away from turning 18, and yet you managed to convince him to try alcohol for the first time. You were proud of yourself that day.

The conversation ends and a moment of silence passes. You place your now empty bottle on your desk table, before crossing your legs and facing Jake once more.

“Sooo,” you began, dragging the last syllable. “How about you? What’s new in your life?”

This was the routine for you two. You’d talk about your lives, what you guys did during the times you weren’t together. Most of the time, Jake's stories would be about how he aced his recent exams or how fun their university's events were. Sometimes he'd tell weird ones, like the story of how mold grew in their communal kitchen, or when a professor got food poisoning and nearly shat himself mid-lecture.

Meanwhile, you're almost always telling him stories of your adventures, about the times when you nearly got arrested or even hospitalized. Jake would lecture you often, of course, but he never attempted to genuinely stop you. In a way, you knew he lived vicariously through you.

"Nothing much," Jake shrugs. "Just the usual shit."

You scowl, "You're no fun." You grab a pillow from the bed and playfully attempt to hit him.

"Whaaat?" He laughs, avoiding your blow.

"You never tell me anything!" You complain.

As much as you knew how much of a nerd Jake was, a part of you knew he wasn't that boring. You remember one summer, a few years back when Jake told you the story of how he nearly got into a fight with a senior from his university.

"There's nothing to tell!" Jake defends himself. Then, a pause, before his face contorts. “Okay, maybe there is something…”

“I knew it!” You yelp, climbing from your chair to the mattress. “Tell me.”

Jake, scratches his nape, looking visibly awkward. The boy barely gets embarrassed, at least with you, but right now his face looks the lightest bit of rosy, which intrigues you more.

“Okay, fine,” Jake submits. It takes him another moment to respond. “There’s this girl…”

“Oh my god,” you exaggerate. “Finally!”

“The hell you mean, finally?!” Jake exasperatedly complains.

“You never talk about girls with me,” you huff. “I was starting to think you weren’t interested in women.”

“I am interested, I just don’t talk about it,” with a roll of his eyes, he places the beer bottle on your nightstand. “And it’s really nothing!”

“Just tell me,” you huff, crossing your arms.

“Okay, fine,” Jake clears his throat, licking his lips in preparation. “She’s from the cheering squad—“

“Ooh, a cheerleader, you bad boy!” You taunt, playfully hitting him on the knee.

“Are you gonna let me tell the story?” He raises his brow, tired of your teasing.

“Okay, sorry, sorry. Continue.”

“I’ve kinda liked her since junior year? I don’t usually see her ‘cause she’s from a different program but last semester she was in my politics class,” Jake continues after a pause, “We sat next to each other, and we started to just talk, and she’s really cool…”

“Did you guys fuck?” You asked brazenly.

“No! Not yet—“

“Yet?!” You gasp. “So you have a plan?”

“I don’t know!” Jake was absolutely flushed by now, his face red as he buries it in his hands in embarrassment.

You try not to laugh at how adorable he was. Your other friends were usually as, if not more, shameless as you. Talking about sex, alcohol and even drugs weren’t a rare occurrence. But with Jake, it’s like everything you talk about flustered him.

“Do you want to?” You ask him after a moment. “To fuck her. I mean.”

Jake takes his face out of his hands, but keeps his head hung low. He starts fiddling with the fabric of his trousers. He once again gives you a shrug. “Maybe, I-I don’t know…”

You tsk. “There’s nothing wrong if you want to! What if this girl wants to get into your pants, too?”

Jake’s entire face grows even redder, if that were even humanly possible. He grabs a pillow from your mattress and buries his face in it, grumbling about something you couldn’t understand.

You gently pry the pillow away from his face. “Seriously, Jake. What’s wrong in trying to get yourself laid?”

“I dunno,” he huffs. “I never thought I’d ever want to.”

“All guys want to get laid at one point, even you,” you argue.

“I don’t even know how,” Jake complains. “Like… how to approach her, how to kiss her or what, it’d be so embarrassing!”

“Well, what do you wanna know?” You ask him. “You can always ask me.”

Jake’s eyebrows furrow. “Wouldn’t that be…”

“Embarrassing?” You fill for him. “I’ve known you since we were in diapers. Is there anything left to be embarrassed about?

“I guess not,” Jake pauses for a bit, as if he’s giving it some thought. “Okay, fine.”

Evening flies by, you and Jake have been in the same position for over an hour. He spent the entire time asking you (what in your opinion are,) basic sex questions. He started of by asking how to approach a woman, before leading more raunchier questions, like how to make out with a girl, and what to do when receiving a blowjob.

“You need to hold her hair up in a ponytail, like this,” you exhibit by taking all of your hair in your hands. “You try it.”

“What, on you?” Jake asks.

“It’s just hair, Jake,” you roll your eyes. “Go on.”

Reluctantly, Jake reaches out to take over, holding all of your hair in one hand. He’s gentle, trying not to tug too much in fear of hurting you.

“Good job,” you offer as praise. “You need to keep that grip while she’s sucking you off. Makes it easier for her to get her hair out of the way.”

“Okay,” Jake supplies. He’s taking all of this pretty well, despite being a little conscious. You’re not all that surprised, seeing as this is Jake. You give this man any type of instructions and he’ll follow through with no issue.

He drops your hair as you pull away. Both of you are still sat on your bed, facing each other.

“Anything else you want to ask?” You pry.

“Um,” You can see Jake swallow, probably hyping himself up to ask you a specific question. “About the, um… the actual,, thing…”

“What about it?” You ask.

Jake takes a deep breath. “You’ve just been teaching me about like, other stuff, what about the actual sex part?”

Granted, you’ve just been teaching him about the basics, kissing, foreplay, blowjobs, but you never really thought you had to teach him about sex.

Jake really was that innocent.

You let out a puff of air. “I don’t know what to tell you, Jake. You just kinda.. y’know, put it in.”

Jake’s face scrunches in distaste. “Won’t it hurt?”

“For her, yeah maybe. ‘specially if you’re packing. Haven’t you like.. watched porn before?” You ask, genuinely curious.

Jake shakes his head. “No. I told you, I never thought I’d be interested in this.”

Poor Jake. You sigh, trying to think of something that can provide Jake any assistance. You can make him watch porn now, but knowing how inaccurate those are, it’d probably be more of a disaster to make Jake watch. A quick Google search could help, but written instructions for something so… complicated would probably also provide little to no help.

Just then, you get an idea.

“You know what,” you begin. “Why don’t I just show you?”

Jake blinks. “Huh.”

“Let me show you how to have sex. It’s easier that way, and you can pretend it’s just practice.” You say.

If there was a world record for how fast a person can turn red in a blink of an eye, Jake would have won it by now. It takes a moment for the cogs in his brain to load, and for the words to make it past his mouth. “I-I… are you serious?”

You nod. “Absolutely serious.”

Jake, absolutely gobsmacked by your suggestion, just stares at your face. “Won’t it be…”

“Embarrassing?” You repeat your earlier response with a smirk. “I told you already, there’s no need to be embarrassed with me.”

After a few seconds of thought, Jake nods his head.

Moments pass. You’ve taken the liberty to tidy up the bed a little before your… endevours with Jake begin. He’s now sat on your chair, nervously fiddling with his fingers.

You finish gathering all of the empty beer bottles in a corner by your door. You stack the pillows neatly by the headboard, before sitting in the middle of your king-sized bed, facing Jake.

His head is still hung low, but every once in a while he glances at you. When you’re finished tidying, he gives you an awkward look.

You pat the space in front of you. “Come sit.”

He follows, climbing on the bed and sitting adjacent to you. He’s still awkward, but you can tell from his face alone that he really wants to learn.

“You sure you want to do this?” You ask.

Jake nods, and you see him anxiously fiddling with his fingers again. “I do.”

“If you want to stop, you just tell me, okay?” You expressed. Jake nods again.

You scooch forward until both of your knees touch, before leaning in close to grab Jake by the neck, pulling him into a kiss. You can feel the heat from his skin through your fingers, and yet his lips feel soft against yours.

He’s gentle with it, but it takes a minute for him to relax and sink into the kiss. Soon enough you feel him slouch against you, his hands ever so lightly gripping your shoulders.

You knew you weren’t his first kiss, but he still lacks the experience to take the lead, so you run your tongue against his bottom lip, before slipping it in his open mouth.

He freezes, unsure of what to do, and before any of you can act, Jake accidentally bites down on your tongue.

“Ah, shit,” you hiss, pulling away in pain.

“S-Sorry—!” Jake tries to apologize.

“It’s fine,” you laugh. “But remember to be ready next time.”

Jake nods, and you lean towards him again. Jake expects another kiss but you go for his neck, lightly kissing the expanse of his skin.

“Always start slow,” you teach between kisses, “Don’t rush into it.”

Jake gives a small nod, letting you kiss your way back to his lips. This time, he’s much more relaxed, and he doesn’t bite when you slip your tongue in. He hums through the kiss, unconsciously leaning in for more.

When you pull away for air, you begin repositioning yourself on the bed. “You can sit in front of each other just like this, or…” you trail off, hopping off of the mattress and into Jake’s lap, “you can sit her on your lap.”

In this position, you’re looking down on Jake, and he’s looking right back up. His neck is craned, probably uncomfortably, but he’s looking at you with doe eyes, absorbing everything you’re doing and saying. His hands are on your waist, and you can feel the warmth of his body due to your proximity.

You find yourself clearing your throat, feeling your mouth dry a little. You try not to think too hard as you press your lips against Jake’s one more time.

This kiss is shorter this time, as you pull away to trail open-mouthed kisses from his jaw to his neck, your lips find their way below Jake’s ear, and you feel him shudder.

“You can give her a hickey, if she’s okay with that,” you whisper.

“H-How?” Jake mutters.

“Like this,” you hum before sucking the skin right below Jake’s ear, hard enough to leave a mark.

“A-Ah—!” Taken by surprise, Jake reacts. His hand finds its way to your hair, but he’s not quite sure if he should pull you off to make you stop, or push you further to let you continue.

You run your tongue at the spot, pressing a chaste kiss. Seeing the reddish mark, you smirk in pride.

You continue kissing his neck as your hands trail downwards, gripping the hem of his shirt. You pull away to tug it off of him, throwing it somewhere on the floor. Your hands continue down to his trousers, as you unbutton and zip them while you mark another lovebite by his clavicle.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Jake makes a move to hide himself in his hands, but not without you pulling them away. Instead, you push him forward, letting his back hit the mattress.

“Don’t cover yourself,” you mumble. “You’re gorgeous.”

Now even more embarrassed, Jake whines once he feels your hands running all over him, over his neck, his chest, his thighs. You toy with the edge of his boxers, aware of the bulge of his cock printing through the fabric.

Unable to help yourself, you take the palm of your hand and press it against his hard-on, humming in satisfaction as he jolts up.

“Oh—!” Jake yelps.

“Feels good?” You ask.

Jake nods fervently. You take the time to take off his boxers, watching his half hard cock spring from its confinement. You give yourself a minute to stare, watching as your best friend, flushed from head to toe, stares at you with such a debauched expression.

“I know I’m supposed to be teaching you,” you begin, wrapping a hand around his cock as you speak. “But I can’t stop myself.”

“S-Stop yourself?” He repeats. “F-From what?”

You never responded, instead you began moving your hand up and down Jake’s cock in high speed, watching as the boy begins shaking, eyes widening and mouth open in a silent cry.

“Wait— fuck!” Jake shouts, his hand reaching out for your wrist but not pulling or pushing you away. His thighs try to close themselves around you, but your other hand is quick to spread them open again. “Please, w-wait!”

You feel a little evil, but you can’t stop, not when Jake continues to make the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. The pace of your strokes don’t slow, and you begin to twist your palm at the base of his cock, watching as precum accumulates on the tip.

“Ngh, fu-uhck—!” Jake moans, back arching from the bed. His hands are gripping the sheets below him, eyes shut as the pleasure shoots through his spine. “Oh, [name], puh, please—!”

You raise an eyebrow. “Please wait, Jake?”

You half expect him to tell you to stop or at least slow down, but he doesn’t respond. His legs give out and you can see his eyes roll to the back of his head. A hand on his thigh alerts you that he’s still shaking, his face contorting in pleasure.

So, instead of being merciful, you continue teasing him instead, “Feels good, Jakey?”

He nods his head so fast you’re afraid he might get neck pain. Your hand continues to stroke his cock at a brisk pace. His precum is leaking everywhere, allowing for extra lubrication as you continue.

“S-So good—!” Jake replies, “Please—“

You’re not even sure what Jake’s begging for, and you doubt Jake does either. You continue stroking for another minute, before your pace slows to a halt.

“N-No, please—“ Jake whines, “W-Why stop…?”

“You’re here to learn how to fuck, aren’t you?” You tease as you begin ridding yourself of your clothes.

Jake, both unsure of what to do with himself, but also at a trance, finds himself staring at your form. He can’t help but to stare at your breasts as you chuck your bra and the rest of your clothes to the floor.

“Like what you see?” You joke, positioning yourself back on his lap. Jake nods, breathlessly staring up at you.

You take some time to lean by your nightstand, blindly rummaging through your drawer for a condom. Once you finally found one, you tear the packet and grab the piece of latex, sliding the rubber down Jake’s cock.

“Usually, I don’t let guys fuck me without fingering me first,” you say as you position yourself. “But let’s say you’re an exception.”

You begin to sink down on Jake’s cock, eyeing the man’s face as it once again contorts in pleasure. You hiss a little at the intrusion, given that you weren’t stretched, but you were so unbelivably wet that Jake’s cock slipped in the rest of the way with no problem.

The two of you gasp once you sat with your ass flush against Jake’s thighs, feeling him fill you up in all the right places. Though he wasn’t the biggest you’ve had, his girth still had your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Fuck,” you curse.

Jake couldn’t agree more. His hands shakily grip the sides of your hips as he tries to stabilize himself. The feeling of your pussy gripping down his cock was probably one of the most intense feelings he’s ever had.

You take Jake’s face in your hands and press your lips together in a messy kiss. Jake tried to reciprocate as best as he could, but feeling your cunt clench down on his cock had him feeling dizzy.

After a while, you pull away, “‘m gonna start moving.”

You don’t wait for a reply before you began moving your hips, grinding against Jake’s lap, throwing your head back at the feeling of Jake’s cock.

“O-Oh my god,” Jake has his eyes shut, his back against the headboard as he gripped your hips for dear life. “[name]—“

“Yeah?” You hummed, starting to pick up the pace as you bounced on his cock. “‘s good, hm?”

Jake nods, “S-So fuckin’ good.”

You continued to bounce on his lap, your hands gripping his shoulders as you do so. The feeling of Jake’s cock pushing in and out of you was so goddamn addicting, you’ve never had anything like it.

The coil in your gut was tightening with every thrust, like it would burst at any moment. You took a moment to look at Jake, who was now staring at your every move, mouth open as he kept making those delicious noises.

“F-Feels so good, oh god,” Jake groans.

“Yeah, Jakey?” You can’t help but moan, “You’re so fucking cute—“

Jake tries to shake his head, but he can no longer respond. There’s a tightening in his abdomen that keeps growing by the minute, his entire body is shaking, and his moans are growing louder at every thrust.

“You gonna cum?” You ask, bracing your hands behind you as you quicken your pace. “Gonna cum in me, Jakey? Gonna cum in my pussy?”

Jake cries out at the thought, hands returning to your hips. “Fuck, please, c-can I?”

You smirk, feeling yourself growing closer. “Please what?”

“C-Cum, please,” Jake gasps, trying his hardest not to burst without permission. “C-Can I— fuuuuck, cum i-in you, p-please?”

You hum, wrapping your hands around Jake’s neck and pulling him close, “Cum, Jakey.”

Jake’s moans grow loud as he bursts, cumming into the condom inside of you. It takes only three more thrusts before you’re cumming alongside him, your entire body shaking as you hold on to the boy.

A minute passes, then two. You’re both panting, trying to catch your breath. You gently move off of Jake’s lap, his cock slipping out of your cunt as you do so. You slip off the used condom, tying it before chucking it into the trash beside your bed.

Jake is already lying down, face up against the ceiling. You collapse beside him, still trying to catch your breath from your orgasm.

“That was…” Jake tries to say, but you just shake your head.

“Save your post-sex comments for your cheerleader girlfriend,” you tease, trying to ease the tension.

Jake turns to the side to face you. “I don’t think I wanna talk to her anymore.”

You eye him from the side, with an eyebrow raised. “You sure ‘bout that?”

Jake merely grabs you by the waist, pulling you close before burying his face in your neck. “‘m sure.” He mumbles.

You’re not too opposed to it, either.

NOTE. ngl this one kinda sucks but i decided to post it anyway. please do send in requests! thanks.

© dollesung 2025