#the song is a little bit on the long side but i tried to make it easy to follow?

[winkuzz]

Wren x Reese Fic Drabble

Here's a little short fic drabble I started writing when I was on a 3 hour train ride back home from a con, based on an idea I've had for the two a while ago and these outfits I designed for Wren and Reese

I will eventually put this on ao3 but I have to wait for my invitation lol

Based on my Wreese Roadtrip AU - a wholesome 'best ending for everyone' scenario I like to fantasize about, meaning that the events of Scarlet Hollow are in the past and everyone of the main cast survived / is doing good and Wren and Reese explore both the world and themselves on a roadtrip, living basically as nomads.

Fic begins under the cut

Content Warnings: Suggestive Language/Mention, OC x Canon Ship, Abuse Mention Disclaimer: - Wren is trans/nonbinary and uses both they/them and he/him pronouns - Mention of “Magical Girl Kaneeka” because I like that theory

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The door falls shut behind the pair that just left the building. Exchanging a quiet glance with each other they make their way back to an antique looking van which is situated on the other side of the parking lot. The vehicle’s obvious age alone is enough to draw attention, but what makes it stand out even more is the fact that it’s covered in gruesome, macabre paintings depicting mostly teeth, claws, organs and torn skin. In fact, some passersby may even have considered it a relatively on-the-nose art piece belonging to the gallery which the couple just left. 

Wren, the blond shorter one of the pair, pulls out their set of keys and unlocks the vehicle manually, waiting for the familiar click of the little door guys jumping up. A happy sound. It means home, warmth and peace for the two of them. 

Both doors swing open and Wren climbs in to nestle down in their seat, yet their partner Reese - the taller one of the pair - hesitates, glancing at the gallery they left once more, then takes off the long coat he was wearing up until now. He takes a deep, contemplating breath before climbing in, situating first his previously hidden tail on the seat, then his long legs in the narrow space before pulling the door shut and dropping heavily against the backrest.

His gaze is fixated on the dashboard for a few moments, then moves to rest on Wren. A near unblinking, certainly unbroken stare. 

Wren already busies himself with picking out music to drive to, attaching his phone via cassette tape adapter to yet another antique part of the car. A tape player. Wren is tapping away on his phone’s screen and keeps swiping through songs. Unbothered for a while - that is until he feels the eyes gazing upon him, which compels them to do a double take towards their partner. For a moment they're unsure what to say or do. 

Wren and Reese have been dating for a while now and they've been traveling through the country, using their old, trusty van as both a method of transport and living space. They spend basically every day with each other, nearly 24/7. And yet this is a new expression on Reese’s face. One that Wren doesn't recognise.

It catches them a bit off guard as they shift in their seat, trying to play it off and stay cool by going back to scrolling and avoiding Reese's gaze. 

"What's up, babe?" 

Wren tries to sound unbothered.

Silence. 

Just the sound of Wren's nail tapping the screen in a hollow manner. 

They look up again. A bit more concerned. Reese is frowning. Not much, just a slight scowl. But it’s still a serious, deep expression which Wren again attempts to assign familiarity to, but fails to do so. 

Trying to lighten the mood they tilt their head just ever so slightly. Maybe playing coy would coax the words out if their partner? 

"Nothing." 

Reese finally breaks his silence and thus, brushes the tension off Wren's shoulders. 

"It's just-" There's a pause. And it stiffens the shoulders right back up. 

"You..." 

Wren's finger hovers over a song they could play just in time to feign overhearing what Reese would say next. The words seem to have a hard time leaving their boyfriend, so how good could they be to hear? 

Of course he would be upset. They had feared that the meeting they had just attended very much overstepped a hard boundary. And Reese's voice seems more nervous than usual. It's far from the normal soft, gentle, teasing or... Well, growling tones they've become so acquainted with. 

Though he doesn't sound angry. He just sounds... They wish they knew. This is a new Reese. And it makes them nervous. 

Their finger and the song are ready. They just gotta time it right. 

"You're amazing." 

... Wait.

 Wren furrows their brows at their phone, then looks up to meet Reese's eyes.

"... Huh?", is all they manage to squeeze out as a reply.

Reese looks just as surprised now.

"Do I … really have to explain that?”

Wren answers with a thoroughly befuddled stare at their partner. 

A voiceless chuckle escapes Reese before he continues.

"Well. Okay. Let's go through what just happened." 

He’s slouching deeper into his seat. His body turns towards Wren, his hands gesture along to his words as he speaks.

"So. You just dragged me to this gallery." 

"Mhm?"

"After suiting me up."

"Uh-huh?" 

"And making yourself look like some sort of... professional manager type."

"Yeah?"

"To pretend to be an 'expert of the arts'.”

"I am an expert of your art. In a way. I’ve been watching you draw and paint a lot after all. Plus, art appreciation is based on subjective tastes. And since everyone's a critic, I-

"All this after you called up someone you happened to know from this city, demanding in a favor to set up a meeting."

"Johnny is an old buddy of mine who moved here, and this time he couldn't wriggle out of paying me back, I kept promising him that the day would come when-"

"A meeting which led to the appointment we had today.”

A dramatic pause.

“With a gallerist." 

Reese takes a deep breath.

Wren suddenly is quiet. He slowly looks up, finally lowering the huge, rectangular shades he's been wearing since entering the gallery. Supposedly to make him look ‘professional and cold’. 

"Just to help me sell my art to a gallerist that appreciates my style. Which... Was a success by the way."

Reese looks at his partner with a sort of challenging disbelief. Like he wants to see them try to talk down their actions again when faced with the facts of today’s events.

"Well…”, Wren shifts in their seat, attempting to find a way to wiggle himself out of the chain of compliments. “Not quite a success yet, Reese. We didn't quite 'sell' any art yet, but they're going to display your pieces! Which helps get the eyes of potential buyers on your art. There's a difference.”

Reese arches a single brow.

"Is there?"

"Yes." 

Wren grimaces displeased. 

“One is a guarantee and I couldn't get you that guarantee. Only a vague promise, which is bullshit, to be honest.”

"Wren."

Reese sounds serious. Serious enough to draw Wren’s eyes upon their partner again. Reese sighs and then leans his shoulder deeper into the seat. Facing Wren fully, who subconsciously imitates the pose. Showing Reese he has their full attention as well.

Then Reese continues:

"I didn't want to do shit to get my art sold. Or even displayed. You know that I never really cared for that part, nor did I want to go out of my way to build any connections. It's because of your faith in me and the ties to people you happen to know that I just walked out of there being offered a deal. A deal to  potentially make money with my art, Wren."

Reese emphasizes the last sentence, stressing the meaningfulness of it.  

A pause lingers between the couple. 

Then Reese’s brows knit tighter. A growly huff escapes his throat as he turns towards the wind shield and continues:

"Besides, it’s not just that you got me that deal that makes you so amazing. It's because of you that I'm even here at all. Without you, I would still be stuck in that disgusting tiny basement.”

Reese growls at the mention of that room and the memories connected to it. A grimdark sound that makes the hairs on Wren’s arm stand.

"If you hadn’t been there, who knows what else she would’ve done to me? I don’t want to think about the stuff she had prepared ‘just in case’ I ‘went berserk’ or other bullshit like that. I probably would’ve just died someday. Not ever seeing anything else but this horrific little place that was assigned ‘safe’ for me to be around. 

To be quite honest, it’s not so out of the world to think that potentially one day she would’ve deemed me too big of a burden to deal with and–”

Wren reaches out to their boyfriend at that. Their palm gently touches the back of Reese’s hand, who first hesitates, his jaw tense and his eyes glaring at nothing in particular. 

But after a couple moments his face relaxes, his body loses its tension and he embraces the touch. Long fingers entangling with Wren’s, welcoming the warmth and softness of their palm.

His other hand reaches up and Reese wipes his face, resetting his thoughts. Resetting the mood. Calming down. 

“... fact is.”

Reese sighs, his body relaxing into the seat once more. His thumb gently brushes over the side of Wren’s hand, a repetitive and calming motion. 

“I have no idea what it is that compels you to do all these things for me. You knew me for a couple moments at most before you quite literally jumped in front of a gun for me. 

You broke me out of that basement and stuck out your neck to protect me. Based on what? A hunch you had about me?

Then you took me out and away from Scarlet Hollow on this road trip, spending time with me, letting me see the world? I would’ve never expected to see the sea, hear the waves! Or watch a meteor shower in the middle of the night!”

The previous bitterness in Reese’s voice gets replaced by excitement.

Wren appreciates watching their partner’s face slowly light up. They adore when he begins to ramble, and they’re happy to listen.

“I’ve seen so many places now. We’ve camped out in the middle of nature, stayed at really nice hotels and crappy ass motels. I’ve seen woods so different from those back in Scarlet Hollow, and never have I expected to ever see landscapes that have no mountains at all.

I’ve gotten to know sides of me that I had no idea existed before knowing you. Allowed myself to learn who I am and what things I can do with this weird body of mine.

It’s because you allow me to explore myself. You never demand anything from me, you’re not scared of me when I get emotional, you don’t hold your breath when I ramble and get riled up. It’s so liberating to just stretch out and be whatever I want to be, whenever.

I hunted, I fished, Stella taught me how to make soup from mushrooms and roots I can find in the forest. Oh, that one soup I made for you when you were really sick that one time? Do you remember that?”

Wren nods with the hint of a smile but doesn’t interrupt with an answer.

“I was so worried, it was the first time in my life I had to take care of someone else and wasn’t the one being fussed over. But it’s alright, I figured out a way to help you get better. And you said that it was really tasty, too!” 

The corners of Reese’s mouth twitch upwards.

“I even learned how to drive the van! And I took us to the place up on the cliff near that beach town, where we saw fireworks.”

“Oh yeah, we made out really hard after that. Isn’t that how we broke the wiggle-head zombie I had glued to the dashboard? I sorta miss him.”

“Wren. Don’t interrupt.”

“Hehe, sorry.”

“But now that you remind me, Rest in Pieces Zomb-Chomp.”

“Rest in Pieces indeed.That time he didn’t come back to life.”

The interior of the van turns silent again. This time it’s a more comfortable silence, the two of them lingering in the echo of more pleasant memories than before.

“My point is”, Reese eventually speaks up again, facing Wren with a gentle expression. “You have done so much for me. And I have no idea why. You had no reason to trust me. No reason to want me. I was but a nobody in a basement trapped in a tiny mining town. But ever since we left Scarlet Hollow and went on our trip out here… I feel like I’m starting to actually become somebody.

Despite whatever you saw back then in that clinic, you still chose me. You make me believe that whatever happens, you’ll always see me for me. That’s what I’m grateful for. 

You’re my pillar that I can always return to and lean on. And…"

Reese’s eyes meet Wren’s. And Wren recognizes this expression. It makes him melt already before their partner says the words.

“I love you, Wren.”

A moment passes.

“And I know these words can only sound hollow in comparison to your actions so far. But I promise to you that no matter what it is that you need, you can always come to me.

I want to be your pillar. Like you’ve been mine. And I can only aspire to be as much of a good influence in your life as you’ve been vice versa.”

Wren squeezes Reese’s hand with his in response. 

Then Wren reaches out and brushes his other hand’s palm against the side of their partner’s face, leading him down to their own so their lips could meet for a sweet kiss. It’s chaste and soft, and full of the sweet, gushy emotions they’re mutually feeling for each other. 

Once Wren pulls away they keep Reese close, affectionately combing some strands of the other’s brown hair out of his face and behind one of his pointy ears.

“I love you too, Reese. And aside from the fact that there is no ‘debt of actions’ between us, let me tell you that you obviously have no idea how much you’ve already done for me.”

The words take some time to settle between them as Reese slowly slides back to his seat and Wren shifts to finally place his phone away on the dashboard.

“But Wren”, Reese then begins after licking his bottom lip, a last taste of the sweet kiss just shared between them. “You surely agree that it’s crazy, right? How everything went down so far between us.”

“Oh, I am.If anyone is aware of how crazy all of this is, it’s me!” 

Wren laughs. 

“After all, I am dating a horror artist who can turn into a monster. Together we live in a van that my boyfriend painted with art that can come to life at his will. Sometimes he leaves to hunt in the woods, taking his Smears with him. And when he returns he always smells like moss and dry leaves and fresh air, and then the living art returns to the same spots right where it was before while we cuddle up inside the van and watch movies and listen to podcasts and music.

I’ve been living with this weird monster guy for months now, and all I ask of him is to thrive and be successful and do what makes him happy.

And it’s thanks to our magical friend that we now know how to make sure your art doesn’t just suddenly spring up to life. Which means finally you can make money with the thing you like doing the most, so… isn’t that awesome?”

“...”

“Don’t dare to make a joke now about ‘me’ being the thing you like doing the most, Reese.” 

Reese shrugs. “Don’t have to, you said it already.”

Wren pouts and huffs, while Reese looks at his partner with a rather smug expression. Then suddenly, they snort in unison, then chuckle and soon they are laughing. 

Still holding hands. 

Wren sighs, then slides his sunglasses back on.

“You’re a sappy mongrel, Reese Kelly.”

“And you’re a cold bastard, Wren Scarlet.”

“Good. Business as usual then. Now, should we head out of here? You mentioned you needed to pick up a couple new paints, right? I overheard you talking to the gallerist dude about painting something new.”

Reese nods. 

“Yeah. I’ll be busy making a few other pieces that suit the current theme displayed at the gallery. He said that it would draw more attention if I did something thematically fitting. But it’s still awesome that he’s going to display the pieces we brought. It’s crazy to think my art is going to be in a gallery now.”

“It’s what you deserve, babe. Your art is great.”

“Thank you, Wren.”

The two fasten their seatbelts, and now Reese is the person grabbing Wren’s phone to flip through songs to play. Wren turns the key in the ignition, listening to the familiar sputtering noises of the van coming to life.

“Got any ideas already? For the art I mean?” “Not really. But I’ll think about it once I’m done with you.”

Wren is in the middle of loosening the handbrake when he suddenly interrupts himself, then looks up at their boyfriend with a questioning blink.

“Uh… pardon me? I take it we’re not heading to the art store for some new paints then?”

“Oh no, we still can go and do that. But after that we go back to our place.”

‘Our Place.’ Not a house or a hotel. Just the spot they chose to park their van at for the time being. Far away from other people, outside the city. 

A song begins to play. 

Reese glances to Wren as the low bass and noisy guitars of their favorite HEALTH song begins to play. His expression is hungry. His teeth a little pointier than before, his jaw bigger. His eyes sharper.

Reese’s voice sounds deeper now as he speaks, and his breath is accompanied with the kind of growl that makes Wren’s skin crawl in all the good ways.

“I get that you don’t want to talk about ‘sappy shit’. It’s not your style. But don’t think you can escape my gratitude. I will show you how much I appreciate you the way you like it the most. And I won’t stop until I’m done with you. Got it?”

Wren is still frozen in their movements. Staring at their partner with big eyes and a flush on their cheeks. They sputter the same way the engine did before, then push the shades back up on their nose, sitting up stiffly. Trying to suppress the smile that wants to erupt on their face. 

They loosen the handbrake finally, push down the clutch and change into first gear. 

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Focus on the road first. Challenge me later.”

Wren fails at holding back the smile any longer and the van heads out of the parking lot.

“Oh, I will.”

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[scorchrend]

check it out. a boss theme just dropped 😁😁

[jamminvroomvroom]

🎀 anon

congrats on 5k

hey bb ! i’ve been brainrotting on insatiable lando and his gf for weeks now omg

for a cute lil fic i was thinking of reader being max f’s sister and lando and her being secretly together. they’re all on vacation together and lando and reader are super insanely insatiable and the story on how they act on vacay 😈😈

anywhere she wants.

ln x fem fewtrell!reader

in which no one approves of your relationship, so lando shows them just how good he is to you…

oh my sweet 🎀 anon, i’m sorry this took so long! slowly getting back into the groove of writing, starting with this little piece! i went a bit off script but the vibes are hopefully similar to the request! huge thanks to angel bby @fairene for helping me out!enjoy! lemme know what you think!! big hugs and lots of love 💖

songs to set the mood: my love mine all mine by mitski, i know places by taylor swift, she will be loved by maroon 5, summertime sadness by lana del rey

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, fluff, angst, a bit of exhibitionism kinda, oral (fem receiving), fingering, p in v, established relationship, max being a dick, angry/feral!lando, girlboss!reader, hints of ownership kink? for like. a second, lando being wise (not canon lmao), swearing

4.2k words

fairy lights drench the pool with light, a glow dancing over the still surface in ripples. you smile, hum with content as the warm evening air washes over your skin, leaning over the balcony to take in the sight of where you’ll be staying.

footsteps sound from behind you, the master bedroom, and you quickly feel two warm arms wrap around your waist, tan and thick. you lean into his touch, chest warming from the kisses peppered over your jugular.

“you like it?” lando breathes, nosing over your earlobe.

“it’s beautiful.” you whisper, turning your head to nuzzle against him. he seizes the opportunity to seal his lips over yours, kissing you soft and deep. you spin in his arms, clutching at his shirt to hold him close, the kiss intensifying, changing pace. just as he licks into your mouth, a sigh, so loud that it breaks the sound barrier, tears you both apart.

“so is that all you two do now, suck each others faces?” max rolls his eyes, his disapproval of your relationship one of the worlds worst kept secrets.

“yes, max. that’s all we do.” you mock, biting back at your older brother.

because of course you’re dating your brothers best friend. of course you are. life is funny like that.

lando stays silent, but you feel his hand on your waist tightening. max swallows hard.

“we ordered pizza, if you guys wanna come down.” max bulldozes through the awkwardness, offering an olive branch, and leaves.

“he is such a knob.” you mutter, shaking your head. lando strokes tentatively over your cheek, soothing you.

“he’s your big brother, baby. he’ll get over this.” lando coos reassuringly, and you choose the easy path of believing him.

you and max occupy opposite ends of the excessively large dining table when you join the rest of your friends.

the tension has been palpable between you and max since he caught you sneaking out of lando’s london flat one morning, the reason for your visit quite clear. you’d stood with your ear to the door when he’d stormed past you and entered the apartment, making you more than aware that your presence was unwanted when he quickly slammed the door behind him.

you’d endured the one-sided screaming match that followed, the accusations that lando must be playing with your feelings, that it would never work out, that it wasn’t fair at how exposed you’d be to the cruelty of his fan base, that he couldn’t believe how low lando would stoop to date his little fucking sister.

you wanted to understand, and really, you tried!but max hadn’t made it easy, constantly pushing your buttons and making needless digs at the both of you. lando convinced you that this holiday during the summer break would be healing; max would get to see how much lando cared for you, and everyone got much needed time to relax. so, with your friend group in tow, the three of you jetted off to the tiny spanish island.

surely, everything would be fine.

-

everything was not, in fact, fine.

you can smell it in the air, the tension building thick and heavy. everyone thought they were slick, waiting for lando to leave so they could corner you, and corner you, they did.

lando had kissed you sweetly by the sliding doors to the garden, popping his airpods in and shouting a quick: going on a run! to the rest of your holiday party. you’d sauntered carelessly to a lounger, bikini clad, sprawling out across the chair to tan and watch the who can do the best canon ball into the pool competition that has become a long running championship. but you can feel stares, feel the walls closing in, and you push your sunglasses up to rest over your hairline.

max and pietra are locked in on you, as are the rest of your friends.

“what?” you feel hot, embarrassed all of the sudden for no reason at all.

“so, it’s going well, then… with lando?” one of your girlfriends starts, but it sounds extra high pitched, awkward. your stomach sinks as you realise the pathetically choreographed dance about to take place.

“for fuck sake.” you mutter.

“she’s just asking!” max shoots back, as if he’s offended, as if you can’t see right through him.

“it’s going great.” you state, blunt as ever whenever your relationship is questioned.

“we just wanna make sure that this is right for you.” pietra says sympathetically, her eyes soft. you’ve known her long enough to know that even though her dickhead boyfriend is being callous, she genuinely cares.

“lando is right for me, you are all so full of shit! i don’t get what it is that you’re seeing.” you try and keep your voice level, even as your blood pressure begins to rise menacingly.

“it’s not so much what we see between you, it’s more about what he was like before.” tom jumps in.

ah, yes. the infamous hoe phase.

“because no one here ever fucked around.” you glare pointedly at your brother. he lowers his gaze.

“are we sure this isn’t just a… a fling?” pietra tries again, staying soft. her words still sting.

“yeah, i know him better than you do, and i-“ max’s voice cuts you like a thousand shards of glass and you body ignites with rage.

he knows him better? what does he know?

does he know that lando can’t sleep without telling you that he loves you? does he know that lando cried into you arms after his miami win? does he know that lando feels itchy if he doesn’t tell you that you’re beautiful at least eleven times an hour? does he know that you’re so crazy about his gorgeous, loving, infuriating best friend that you’re prepared to tell your brother where to go and to never come back?

“shut the fuck up, max. you know nothing! nothing about our relationship because you never gave us a chance. you don’t see how much i love him because every time you see us together, you’re hellbent on destroying our happiness.” you point angrily, standing from your chair. before you turn to the house, you leave them all with a parting message.

“and all of you will do very well to remember who paid to bring your bitter arses here. remember whose fucking house you’re in.” you lecture, watching as they all turn sheepish as they realise how ungrateful they sound.

“i don’t think i have anything to add.” you hear from behind you.

you jump, turning to see lando leaning against the door.

“shit, baby.” you breathe, rushing towards him, your skin crawling as you wonder how much he’s heard.

“forgot my phone.” he shrugs, smiling warmly at you. only at you. “now unless anyone has anything to add, i’m gonna take my very, very serious girlfriend upstairs.” he grins smugly.

the silence is so deafening that you couldn’t of even heard a pin drop if you’d tried.

you hold up your middle finger as he leads you away.

your bedroom door slams so hard that they must hear it outside. he’s tense, enraged at the disrespect that you’d endured, but he’s soft with you, pulling you into his rigid body. he relaxes into you, walking you further into the room.

“how much did you hear?” you whisper, clinging to him.

“oh, you know, just all of it.” he laughs bitterly, fingers sinking into your hips.

“they’re assholes.” you growl, threading your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck, just the way he likes it.

“there is one good thing about it though.” lando hums, still guiding you deeper into the room. your back thuds softly against the sliding glass door, the one that leads to your balcony.

“what?” you breathe, suddenly extremely aware of his lower body.

“you’re so fucking sexy when you’re mad.” he smirks.

turns out, he didn’t steal you away to mope.

his lips crash against yours fiercely, teeth and tongue getting in on the action as he moves his mouth feverishly against your own. your neck tilts back, allowing him to swallow you whole, like his life depends on the feeling of you pressed against him. he trails kisses over your cheek, across your jaw, down your neck, two fingers grazing your ribcage. he snaps the tie of your bikini against your skin, stone cold aware of the lack of clothing adorning your body and he hums low from the back of his throat.

“they need to learn that you’re mine, that you’re always gonna be mine.” lando grunts, pulling away to slide the door open. he pushes you out onto the balcony, the one that overlooks the very pool that your friends and your brother are licking their wounds around.

“lando…” you gasp, weary of his overly adventurous attitude.

“maybe this will make them realise just how crazy you make me.” lando looks possessed, moving towards you like a wild animal engulfing its prey.

he cages you in against the wall, pulling one leg over his hip to spread you open, his fingers travelling to the flimsy tie of your bikini bottoms. you’re already soaked, embarrassingly so, really, but there’s just something about those gorgeous, haunted eyes. lando let’s the bottoms fall to the floor, kicking them away impatiently as he quickly finds home between your legs.

“think anyone else can get you this wet?” lando asks, eyes rolling back as he finds your slick folds. your jaw drops, already boneless at the feel of him. “answer me, baby. nice ‘n loud for me.” he demands.

“no, lan.” you whine, bucking your hips into his hand. he’s teasing, stroking lightly over your folds and your sensitive bud.

“and can anyone else make you feel this good? i mean, baby, i’ve barely touched you and you’re shaking.” lando’s teeth catch his bottom lip, his eyes glazing over as he watches you.

“lando, please.” you mutter, grinding down on his hand. you need more of him. he grins, flashing his teeth with pride as he renders you desperate.

“my pretty girl fucking my hand, god, you’re so perfect.” lando praises, earning a moan from your kiss-swollen lips. “bet they can hear how soaked you are, baby.”

you flush red, shame and embarrassment blurring the pleasure and you press a tense hand to your mouth, trying to silence the waterfall of whines.

“don’t you fucking dare.” he warns, sliding his fingers deep into your pussy. he gives you no time to adjust, curling them upwards and rocking his whole hand against you. his palm bumps against your clit and you writhe against the wall.

there’s no point covering your mouth, there is no hiding what’s happening. you let him have you how he wants you, a consolation for him having to hear his friends badmouth him, and he takes every liberty, mouthing at your covered tits, lapping over your peaked nipples. you cry out, weak as he manipulates your body closer to an orgasm, your wetness trickling down his wrist.

“so good to me, baby, only you, lando.” you choke, your voice echoing between the stone walls.

“that’s it, honey, make a mess for me. let ‘em hear you pretty girl.” he encourages, talking you straight into your first orgasm.

you tremble, gushing all over his hand as you cum, droplets splattering all over the paved floor. lando’s eyes turn black, mouth hanging open as he watches you fall apart, riding you through it.

lando let’s you cool down, propping you carefully against the wall, and leaning over the balcony. funnily enough, max is long gone, but the rest of them sit in stunned silence. he can’t help himself, driven mad by your quivering body and their cruel jabs, choosing whatever the opposite of the high road is. he reaches into his pocket, finding his credit card.

“get out of the villa that i paid for so i can fuck my girlfriend anywhere she wants.” he shouts, watching the way their necks snap up to look at him, revelling in their reddened faces that are not just flushed from the sun. “take this. have dinner. just fuck off.” he frisbees his card at tom, - rather carelessly really, considering just how much there was to lose on that little black square - and he revels in the way it lands square against his forehead.

they all stand up and scurry away, as few faint sorry’s! carrying through the air towards the couple on the balcony, but lando has more important business to attend to.

he scoops you up into his arms, grinning at your coy smile and your drooping eyes. he carries you to bed, planting you in the middle of the mattress.

“not done with you yet, baby, open those eyes for me.” lando coos, crawling over you, his shirt and workout shorts flung to the other side of the room. he feels delicious against you, caging you in beneath him.

“want you, lan.” you plead, a desperate smile on your face as you keen, stretching against the mattress like a cat.

“you’ll have me, baby. always gonna have me.” he smiles, eyes finding yours. “i love you.”

“love you so much.” you whisper, pulling him flush against you. “no matter what.” you affirm. he needed to hear that, it seems, his eyes sparkling with something else, other than the sheen of lust.

he kisses you, firm and wanting, his fingertips sliding up over your arms, leaving prickles of lightning and goosebumps in their wake. one of his hands interlocks with yours, twining together above your head, his body stretching languidly over yours. you can feel him, hard and throbbing between your legs, teetering on the knife edge of self control.

“take me, lando. have me how you want me. ‘m yours.” you croon, disguising a helpless whine as you arch your body into his. you’re squirming for it, to feel him sink deep and claim you his.

that seems to usher him along, and he drags his cock through your folds with a slow roll of his hips, the head catching your sodden entrance. you hiss, the intrusion not even nearly enough, but the sensation overwhelming you nonetheless. he slides into you carefully, stilling when his hips hit flush against yours. you do not want careful.

“fuck me.” you groan wetly, hot breath fanning his face as your mouth instinctively fills with saliva. you’re close to drooling for him.

“beg.” he snaps, jaw tight as he battles his natural instinct to utterly ravage you. “beg me to show you that i own you.”

your legs quiver, pussy clenching around him and he cannot help but buck his hips and suppress a whine. he styles it out, tantalisingly slow as he rolls his hips, grinding against your pleasure point, your slick walls. blood rushes in your ears, your body feral with need. you can’t even tease, disobey him for the fun of it, not when he’s wound you up so delectably. your body keens for him, hums with the sparks, a live wire.

“don’t wanna be able to walk when you’re done,” you slur, beginning to ramble. “want to feel you so deep that i’m ruined. ‘m yours, lando. have me.” you plead.

pleasure shoots through him, then, rapid and unwavering. he’s unforgiving as he rails into you, immediately stoking the fire in your belly. all of his body weight is on you, sweaty skin sticking and slapping as his hipbones bruise into yours.

“is that how you want it, huh, baby?” he manages to growl, scooping up your wrists in one big paw, his other hand working down the planes and curves of your body. he finds the triangles of your bikini top, hastily tearing them down just enough so that your tits spill out. all for him. all his. “look at this perfect fucking body,” his breathe hitches, awestruck. “is it all mine?”

you cry out, nodding shamelessly as he ghosts his fingers around the swell of your nipple, switching to the other when he’s satisfied with the peak. he alternates between them, twisting and tugging, barely there and all too hard. you can only plead his name and tighten around his cock.

once he’s overstimulated your chest, he works his fingers further down your body, stopping now and then to dig into your flesh, appreciating the soft feeling of your skin under his calloused hands.

“and this hot, little cunt… is this mine, too?” lando breathes, right against the shell of your ear. his thumb presses hard against your thrumming clit, smearing your slick over the bud. “to play with? is it baby?”

“god, yes.” you manage to bellow, the strained words tearing over your vocal chords.

“yes, what?” lando snaps, slapping lightly over the bundle of nerves.

“it’s yours!” you sob, choking on your own voice.

“to…?” lando coaxes, a smirk tugging at his swollen lips as he looks at you expectantly.

“to play with.” you stutter, cheeks tinged hot with embarrassment that seeps down your neck and between your sweat-dampened bodies.

“that’s my good girl. my pretty, pretty girl.” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

“‘m so close.” you breathe, writhing up the mattress, his body atop your inescapable. he toys with your clit, pinching the electrified nerves, watching how you buck your hips and leak onto the mattress. he’s covered in you, his belly glistening in the sunlight that washes over you, sealing you forever in this golden, sparkling moment.

“want me to cum all over your tummy, baby? mark you mine?” lando gasps, driving into you with one goal in mind. he has to get you there, wants to be painted in the remnants of your pleasure and hung up in every art museum in the world. if only he wasn’t so selfish, yearning to keep this stunning sight to himself for the rest of his life.

“n-no,” you pause, your jaw going slack for a moment as he circles your clit just right, grinds his hips so deep. “inside me.” you beg.

“fill me up.”

his vision blurs.

lando just about folds you in half, carnal desire surging through his veins. the hand keeping yours suspended over your head falls away, finding your navel where he applied a brutal, sweet pressure that leaves you blind and wailing. his other fingers busy themselves sinking into the meat of your thigh, dragging you backwards and forwards on his throbbing length.

your body goes limp, tears of pleasure trailing wetly down your face as your orgasm hits you, and lando can’t help but bury himself as deep as he can go. the rutting of his hips and the messy rub of his whole hand against your clit leaves you awestruck, sobbing into the air of the room. you’re covering him in waves, shivering as you grow overstimulated but you can’t help but chase the high. your violent quivers and dripping cunt make him whine, high pitched and divine, and he drops onto you, filling you up. he can’t seem to stop, painting you white from the inside out, watching the way it drips out of you, coating the base of his cock.

this can’t be over yet, he decides. he needs to hear you scream.

“lemme help you with that.” he mumbles, slinking down your body, eyes fixed solely on where you were joined together.

you don’t even get a chance to mourn the loss of him buried inside of you, no. you’re too busy pushing at his curls, pleading that he lets up, but he can’t. it’s not that he won’t, it’s that he quite simply can’t.

his tongue runs up the seam of your pussy, lapping over the mixture you’ve made and you can’t do anything but cry and thrash, white hot with pleasure and pain. its so good that it hurts, and you give in, knowing that he isn’t going to stop unless you say the magic words. lord knows, you won’t. lando knows you won’t.

it’s torturous, really, the way he sucks your clit into his mouth, drags his tongue over his mess and slips it right into your entrance. he swirls and sucks and nips and tugs. it’s like he’s turned a faucet on, watching hazily as you drip and drip, more of you and him seeping onto his tongue. he’s insatiable as he licks you clean, unable to resist luring you into a third orgasm.

and when it hits, god, does it hit.

the scream he pulls from your body is deafening, makes him shake with the intensity of it, the vibrations rippling through your body and ricocheting off of his. you relax limply into the mattress, urgently needing a break. you watch through hooded eyes as he slurps anything left of you from his reddened lips, your thighs clenching unconsciously. he just chuckles, flopping down beside you.

“tired, baby?” lando teases, stroking over your rapidly rising and falling ribs.

“just a tad.” you deadpan, unable to hold back the giggles as serotonin soothes you.

“oh, sweetheart. i’m not even nearly done with you yet.” lando grins toothily, deviously.

something he said about fucking you ‘anywhere’ you wanted dawns on you and your eyes widen.

-

anywhere really did mean anywhere.

he’d had to carry you to the shower when you were finally done, holding you close under the spray. you were lost to the memory of him pushing you into the sideboard in the hallway, laying you flat across the kitchen counter, eating you like dessert on the very same sun lounger that you’d been perched on when this whole marathon commenced.

you’re utterly spent, eyelids sagging when he finally sets you down on the sofa, playing on his phone while you fall asleep watching the office.

you’re curled up in lando’s lap, legs hanging over the end of the sofa when max finds you. hair still wet from the much needed shower and fast asleep in his best friends arms. he actively chooses to quell the disgusted curl of his lips. you look so peaceful, safe. his plans to throttle lando for his earlier stint subside.

“call me a wankstain on society later, if you want, but please don’t wake her up.” lando speaks with a hushed tone, not even gracing max with eye contact, his eyes remaining on the candies he’d been crushing before the other fewtrell turned up.

“i- no, i wasn’t gonna call you that. i did, however, consider driving that very nice, very vintage lambo you hired off a cliff.” max mutters. lando scoffs a laugh.

“you would have paid for it.” he still doesn’t look up from the phone. max eyes the way lando strokes your side, in time with the crests and falls of your breath. it’s tender, intimate.

max considers that there’s a strong possibility he was wrong.

“mate, listen-“

“nope. she’s your baby sister, i get it. i get it. you can hate me for it, but you crossed a line going after her like that.” lando finally looks up at max, glowering sternly.

“i’m gonna talk to her.” max bows his head, as if he’s ashamed of himself and lando softens slightly.

“you should, mate. she wants your support, your approval means everything.” lando says. “look, i love her. i really do. and while you were accusing me of trying to ruin her life, you were crushing her.” lando sighs, his voice wavering with a hint of pain. max meets his gaze.

“for the record, i don’t think anyone will ever be good enough for my little sister, but you come pretty fucking close.” max relents, pushing his pride aside, finally. lando smiles, small and knowing.

“i just wanna make her happy.” he shrugs, a look of hopeless romance, utter devotion and pure happiness radiating off of him in waves as he gazes down at your frame. something in max’s belly snaps, the apprehension dissolving to mush. he had gotten this all wrong.

“you do.” he hums, watching how you curl further into lando as you stir in your sleep, the drivers fingers delicately combing your hair away from your face. “but,” max quips.

lando grimaces, bracing himself.

“if you ever, ever, pull something like that again,” max shivers with disgust at the insinuation. “i will remove your bollocks and make you watch me crash the miura.” max swears, pointing a finger of warning.

“seems like everyone’s come to their senses, no more… pranks from me.” lando holds his free hand up in mock surrender.

“have you two kissed and made up yet?” you murmur, stretching out in lando’s arms. you rub sleep from your eyes, sitting up and leaning into your boyfriends solid frame, resting against him as your eyes flit to your brother.

“we’re good. ‘m, uh, sorry.” max nods, attempting to be heartfelt. lando chokes on a laugh as it falls flat.

“you’re “uh, sorry”?” you deadpan, crossing your arms over your chest.

“i’m really sorry.” max tries again, and you grin cheekily at your brother, watching as his shoulders release the tension they’ve been carrying all afternoon. he turns to leave, halfway to the door when you call out to him.

“hey, max?”

“yeah, lovely?” your chest warms at the sweet nickname. you’d forgotten the last time he’d called you that.

“wash your sheets.” your eyes blaze with amusement and you hear lando’s sharp inhale of breath, shocked that you’d gone there.

“you didn’t- my god, you did not-“ max splutters, his face almost green with nausea.

“you’ll never know for sure.” you grin. you think he’s going to faint.

serves the bastard right.

-

hehe

lemme know what u think!! <33

-

taglist

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[mermaidgirl30]

✨Her Bodyguard, His Shining Star Part 1: Kiss Me at Coachella✨

Bodyguard! Joel Miller x singer fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I do not know what came over me, but this was heavily inspired after watching Sabrina Carpenter’s “Espresso” Coachella performance. This one shot took over my whole Saturday and Sunday! Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for helping me with a title and the mood board and for being my beta! 🩷 This is both in Joel and reader’s POV. Comments and reblogs make my day. Enjoy, lovelies!

Summary: You’re performing at Coachella, throwing winks and flirting with your eyes as Joel Miller watches you from the side of the stage. He’s your bodyguard, and he should know better, but he wants you just as much as you want him.

Word Count: 8.1k

Rating: 18+ Only MDNI

Tags: Fluff, flirting, pining, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, cute pet names, unprotected p in v, switching POVs, reader is a singer, Joel is a bodyguard, reader has long hair, large age gap (reader is 25, Joel is 44)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The warm sun glows against your glittering skin, the music pumping like sugary coffee running through your veins. The crowd chants along with you, singing every lyric you do while they hold their phones and snap videos while you twirl around to the rhythm of the upbeat song. You flash them big smiles, pose for the camera, sway your hips while your dancers match your cute little moves. You’re exhausted, almost done with your set at Coachella, but the flaming energy of the crowd keeps you going. 

   You spin around, pop your hip out and wave flirtatiously to Joel at the end of the stairs on the side stage. He shakes his head, chuckling to himself while he tries to act professional. That’s what bodyguards do, right? Stay professional? And he did, he really did, but you liked to tease him just a bit sometimes, get him all riled up if you could. 

   You see the smug smirk he tries to hide behind that patchy, greying scruff, watch the way those gorgeous honey flecked eyes scan your body. He can try to be coy all he wants, but you’ll call him on his bluff. The man is attracted to you, just like you are to him. But you can’t help it, he’s drop dead gorgeous. The way his grey threaded dark curls catch the sun rays, his ripped muscles cling to the flannels and tight t-shirts he wears on a daily basis, his corded veins spiral down his tanned arms, the way he towers over you every time he stands next to you, his deep Southern drawl that sends you into heat every time he graces you with that thick honey-like voice, and the way he’s so protective over you. But you also can’t forget that he's twice your age, which makes him even hotter. 

   You shouldn’t want it, want him, but you do. God, you do. At night when you’re in between your silky sheets with your fingers rubbing between your legs, you’re thinking of him. Those big, meaty hands, that rough tongue, his deep, gravelly voice that must sound so sweet filled with dirty words. You can’t help yourself, you want Joel Miller, your bodyguard. 

   He watches you strut the lit up stage, the sparkles on your pink dress catching the flecks of his wandering eyes. He thinks you look so gorgeous twirling around in that short tease of a dress. Every time you bend over or spin around, he can see those skimpy short shorts that barely cover the globes of your ass. You like the attention though, love to tease the crowd just like you’re teasing him now. 

   He sees the discrete winks you throw his way on the stage, the way you lick those plump, glossy lips that seem to call directly to him. You’re trying to get a reaction out of him. He knows you too well. You may be flirting with the starving crowd who begs for more, but you’re also flirting with him. And he can’t help but get drawn into those beautiful eyes of yours that glisten in the sunlight, can’t help the way his cock is straining against the zipper of his denim jeans right now, precum spilling over the tip thinking about thrusting between those pretty legs of yours. He wants you so fucking badly, and you have no idea.

   You twirl your curls flirtatiously around your finger, flipping your hair behind your shoulders while he watches from the corner of the stage, pretending like that’s his hand wrapped around your flowing locks. Another wink his way and he’s mush against the edge of the stage. Maybe you are trying to get a reaction out of him, you just love to tease him, but he loves it just the same. You’re nothing but a little troublemaker.

   He thinks about you all the time on those lonely nights on long tours, when he’s under his pristine sheets that graze against his hardening cock. He whispers your name under his breath when he’s stroking himself, pretending his hand is yours gliding over him, spreading precum with your soft hands, your pretty mouth. And when he cums he thinks of your glittering eyes, imagines you encouraging him on while he spills hot ropes of cum all over his soft tummy. 

   He may feel a little guilty after doing that, those dirty thoughts that swirl in his head night after night, but there’s no way in hell he feels bad about doing it. He’d have you every day if it was up to him. Oh, yes. He’d ravage your body till you had nothing left to give but your own breath that blows gently against his hungry lips. Damned if he does, and damned if he doesn’t. Either way he’s completely fucked. 

   The end of your routine is drawing close, the last number halfway over while the sun kisses your tanned skin. He knows you’re tired, can see it in the sweat that glistens like diamonds down your dainty arms. He’d go and scoop you up in his arms, let you wrap your own around his neck while he carried you to safety, away from prying vultures in the crowd, but he knows paparazzi would snap those pictures in a heartbeat and cause a scene in the tabloids. The pop princess and bodyguard have a scandalous affair at Coachella together. He scoffs at the thought. Fucking idiots starving for a shiny penny to add to their useless names. 

   The moment you sing your last line, you wave to the crowd and blow kisses to the rowdy audience. “Thank you, Coachella! See you next year!” They chant your name, begging for one more song, but your time is up. So you exit the stage all smiles with glitter falling to the ground, keeping your glow until you get to the edge of the stage. 

   Joel’s right there waiting for you, a water bottle and small towel in hand, just like he always does. He looks so good in his tight black t-shirt, sleeves pulling at his bulging biceps while his dark jeans hug his meaty thighs tightly. He always looks so good that you feel dizzy when he takes your hand and helps you down the stairs and off the buzzing stage. 

   Your breath catches in your throat when he closes his thick, calloused fingers over yours, his honey eyes bright and alert when he hands you the water bottle and dabs your sweaty forehead with the soft towel. You could melt into a puddle right here and now the way he’s looking at you all protective and warm-like. 

   “You really gave them a show today, darlin’,” he drawls as his dark flecks of warmth serenade you with attention.

   “Yeah, you think so?” 

   “Mhm,” he hums, staying attentive to you while he watches you take a sip of water. 

   “Did I give you a show, too?” you ask all flirtatiously, batting your long eyelashes up at him as you slide your tongue slowly over your glossy lips, licking off a droplet of water. 

   His cheeks grow red, eyebrows fusing together as he shakes his head and runs a large hand slowly through those messy curls you so want to run your own fingers through. “C’mon, trouble. Let’s jus’ get you back to the trailer.” He grabs your elbow and drags you through the winding backstage area, dodging cords and other performers that stand in your way.

   You follow next to him, quick to stay on his trail while fans scream from the right behind barricades when they see you. Joel pushes you to the left, lingering his large hands on you just a few seconds too long while he works to keep you safe. You know it’s his job, but it turns you on at the sight of him watching out for you, keeping a hand firmly on your arm, making sure no one else touches you but him. 

   Maybe it’s a lovesick fantasy, a fever dream that you and Joel could be more than this. More than just a bodyguard who’s just doing his job to watch out for you. You feel it, that sexual chemistry when you’re near each other, even in a large crowd that won’t stop screaming your name, demanding pictures and autographs while he pushes them away from your reach. You feel it in his heated stare, the brush of his calloused fingertips on your tanned skin, the devilish smirk he gives you when you tease him or say something you shouldn’t. You know he feels it, too. He has to. He’s just as delusional and lovesick as you. You see it in the glow of those amber eyes. He knows.

   “So, you have a free night tonight, huh?” you ask as you keep your fingers curled around the soft fabric of his t-shirt. 

   “Sure, if you call keepin’ you out of trouble free time,” he chuckles, his brown eyes gazing back toward you, just enough to paint streaks of dark pink over your already blush caked cheeks. 

   “Me, trouble? Never,” you tease while you flash him a bright smile. 

   “Oh, you’re trouble alright. But you’re not the one I’m worried about. These Coachella fans can get pretty intense. I’d jus’ feel better if I was watchin’ out for you is all.”

   “You don’t want a night off though?”

   He looks back toward you and knits his eyebrows together, concern lathered all in those brown doe eyes of his. It makes you weak in the knees. “I’m alright. Besides, you’re not bad company to have.” He nudges you with his elbow and winks your way, completely knocking the breath from you. 

   Did Joel Miller just say you were good company? A quiet, reserved guy like him likes your company? The one that would rather grab a drink at the bar alone and sit in silence with a good book while no one bothers him? Guess you did have an affect on him afterall. 

   “Not bad company?” you giggle as you push against his shoulder. 

   “Not bad at all, darlin’. You’re jus’ the kind I need,” he says with a hidden smirk under that salt-and-pepper scruff you want to drag your fingers through. Yeah, you’re just what he needs.

   Suddenly, a screaming fan comes from your left, some psycho that escaped through the wrought iron fence who stomps your way. He charges over to you, calling your name as his spindly fingers close over your arm, his other hand clawing at your pink sparkly dress. “Let me take a picture, please! I love you, I drove hours just to see you sing. Please!”

   Joel rips the guy's hands off your body, pinning his hands behind his back against a caged off area while you fight to catch your breath. Your heart thunders in your chest watching Joel being so protective, possessive over you while the fan begs for mercy against Joel’s tight grip. 

   “Keep your fuckin’ filthy hands off of her! She’s not a toy you can just grab and demand things from. She didn’t give you permission, didn’t ask for you to claw at her dress. So I suggest you walk back out to the general admission area and stay the fuck away from her. Understood?!” His voice sounds like crackling thunder, that deep rugged breath towering over the cowering fan as he makes red marks over the fan’s useless wrists. Joel was just doing his job, one he was damn good at. But he made it look so sexy. 

   You stare in amazement, blinking through your thick lashes while you watch Joel shove the crazed fan through the fence, warning him to keep his distance or else he’ll wish he never stepped foot into the music festival. You gawk at him, watching the way his muscles flex underneath his t-shirt, watching the scowl across his mouth darken his menacing eyes. He’s a dominant wolf protecting his pack, and his pack is you. 

   You watch his flared nostrils and harsh eyes soften when he turns and looks at you, one of his large hands coming to clasp around your wrist while he assesses your wide-eyed features. “You okay?”

   You nod your head slowly, keeping your gaze on him as he makes sure you’re alright. “Really, I’m fine, Joel. Thank you.”

   Before he can manage a reply back to you, blinding cameras start flashing before your eyes, paparazzi swarming you as they just assessed the scene. They throw questions at you, screaming your name while you try to drown out their echoing voices. 

   You stick like glue to Joel’s side, latching your arms around his strong torso while you hide your face in his t-shirt beneath his shoulder. Joel wraps a protective arm around your back and guides you to safety. 

   “Get back! She ain’t answerin’ questions right now, she jus’ got off the stage. Leave her alone!” His deep voice hounds them, barking strict orders for them to stay back. 

   You’re so thankful for Joel right now, your knight in shining armor steering you to safety. The blinding lights start to slowly fade away, the reaching hands and firm demands slipping away once you enter the safe vicinity of your tour trailer. 

   Joel unfolds you from his safe grasp, turns you around and places one hand gently under your chin as if to say it’s okay, baby girl. They’re gone. He scans your frightened eyes, but you melt into a relaxed state when he looks at you with those concerned honey eyes that swallow you whole. 

   “You sure you’re alright?” he asks with eyebrows furrowed together in a panicked state. 

   “I am now. Thanks for saving me. You’re my hero,” you smile as he lets out a sigh of relief and shakes his head. 

   “Jus’ doin’ my job, sweetheart. Can’t help it that everyone wants a piece of you. Gotta protect the shining star,” he winks, nearly sending you over the edge of the steps to your trailer. 

   “Well, you’re pretty great at your job, Miller. Best bodyguard ever,” you flirt as you poke him playfully in the chest. 

   “Alright, little pop star. Why don’t you go relax for a bit? I’ll be out here, be sure to fight off any more paparazzi parasites,” he smiles while he watches you twist the handle and enter your safe haven. 

   “Joel?” you call before you close the door. 

   “Hmm?” he asks as he twists around and faces you with gentle brown eyes. 

   “Go easy on them.”

   He just rolls his eyes and shakes his tousled curls off his sweaty forehead. “Sure thing, darlin’. Alright now, go on. Get in there,” he instructs as he nods to your room. 

   You huff out and slump your shoulders, pretending like it’s the biggest chore in the world. He ticks his jaw and raises an eyebrow at you that tells you he’s not messing around, so you fully oblige his request. “Alright, alright. I’m going,” you sigh. 

   “Attagirl,” he chuckles. 

   Your cheeks burn red as he leaves you with the hottest word before you close the door with a jolt. Attagirl. The word rushes through you, straight to your core where you feel a bit of slick build against your sticky lace. How can a man get you turned on with just one word? Well, it’s Joel Miller, and the man can make you wet with the wink of those pretty brown eyes, but Attagirl was next level. It was borderline porn to your ears. 

   When you hear the click of the door close you take a second to breathe, leaning up against the sealed door while you flick the lights on and try to calm your racing nerves. You assess your pristine room, taking in the white walls hung with pink fairy lights. The glow from your vanity mirror lights up the little corner where your sparkly makeup sits neatly together. The pink velvet sectional sits up against the middle of the wall where a picture of Marilyn Monroe hangs right above that. Soft pink colors cover the room, and you feel suddenly at ease in the protection of your trailer. 

   You meander toward the vanity mirror, assessing your perfect makeup that still stays intact on your glowing face. The sparkling pink eyeshadow mixes in with the sharp wings of black eyeliner that frames your soft eyes. Shimmery pink lip gloss coats your plump lips, and the blush stands out against your tanned skin. Your spiral curls flow gently over your shoulders, and your sparkly dress hugs all your curves in the right places. 

   You suddenly want to be free of your costume, wanting to throw on a pair of cutoff jean shorts and an oversized t-shirt. When you turn your back to the mirror and try to unzip your dress, it gets stuck just a couple inches from the top. 

   “Oh, come on. Work with me.” You fight the zipper again, tugging with all your might until you grit your teeth together and curse under your breath. This is not what you need right now. You want out of this dress, out of these high heels, out of these smothering tights. 

   You stomp your heel into the plush carpet, folding your arms across your cleavage as you decipher just what to do. Lacy, your assistant, is tied up in important meetings for the rest of the afternoon. She’s nowhere near your little trailer. Your makeup artist is busy helping other performers, so you have no other options. Joel is the only one…

   You gulp, take a long look at your flushed cheeks just thinking of having Joel Miller unzip your dress. It’s harmless, really, but not if he’s doing it. That would only lead to one thing. Giving into pure desire, temptation, need. 

   “Fuck it,” you whisper to yourself, “if a show is what he wants, then a show is what he’ll get.”

   You tiptoe to the door, hovering your hand over the handle as you take a deep breath and breathe in and out slowly. It’s just a zipper, only a zipper. He could always say no, leave you stranded while you’re stuck in your dress the entire evening. He wouldn’t do that though, leave you helpless while you fight to rip the tight dress off your body. He just wouldn’t allow that. No way. 

   You take one more deep breath and open the door slowly, slipping your head out as you see Joel standing at the bottom of your trailer steps. You clear your throat and watch him turn his head quickly in your direction, leaving his guard wide open as he assesses your distressed face. “Umm, Joel. Can you do me a favor?”

   His eyebrows knit together while his eyes glaze over your body. “What is it, darlin’?” His doe eyes lean into yours, and you can barely muster up any words while he looks at you like that, all caring and deep. 

   “Well, my zipper got stuck in the back, and I can’t get it down. Do you think you can help?” you ask shyly, your eyes looking up nervously through your long lashes. 

   “Uhh, where’s Lacy? I can go grab her, let her help ya out.”

   “No!” You reach out an arm and grab his wrist tightly, watching his brown eyes widen at your sudden contact on his tanned skin. 

   “No?” he asks confused, his breath picking up underneath his dark t-shirt. 

   “I mean, she’s in meetings for the rest of the afternoon. She’s nowhere near the trailer. And I’m awfully uncomfortable in this tight dress. Do you think you can just come in really quick and help?”

   He gulps down a breath, his heartbeat picking up incredibly fast while he looks into your gorgeous eyes. How can he say no to that? He can’t, so he won’t. He rakes a hand slowly through his greying scruff and nods your way. 

   “‘Course I’ll help, sweetheart. C’mon then.” He places a hand gently on your lower back and leads you into the glowing lights of the trailer, letting the door close with a bang as he guides you to the middle of the room. 

   “Turn around for me, sweetheart,” he asks nicely as you oblige and turn your back toward him. 

   He looks at your undone zipper, sees where it’s stuck in the pink fabric of the dress. Of course he’d be the only one around to help you, of all things a fucking stuck zipper on you. He has no resistance when it comes to you, he just can’t say no to that pretty face of yours. 

   “Zipper’s jus’ caught in the fabric. Should just take a little tugging,” he says with gritted teeth, pulling on the zipper while he holds the silky fabric tight with his other hand. 

   After a few seconds of fighting the dress, he gets it free of the catching fabric. He slowly unzips the back of your sparkling dress, going ever so slowly as if not to make a single sound. The only sounds he hears are your quick breaths, the beating of his own racing heart, and the noise of tugging you free of the suffocating, tight dress. 

   He watches it stop at the end of your curvy hips, catching the way your skin seems to shimmer as your flawless skin comes into his line of vision. He sees the way the dress falls open in the back, your skin begging to be touched, to be stroked as it beckons him closer and closer until he’s hovering above your hot skin. 

   He knows he shouldn’t linger, shouldn’t hover over the glow of your exposed skin, but it’s almost sinful not to touch you when the glitter of your undertones calls directly to him. He gives in, stealing just a touch as he rubs his fingers slowly down your spine. 

   You squirm beneath his touch, tingling sensations running wildly down your skin with each touch he takes from you. You ravish in it, holding your breath while he takes his time dipping across the curve of your back. 

   He leans into you, ghosting his lips across your neckline while he breathes you in deep. He smells the vanilla scent of your perfume, lilac breezing through your soft curls, and can even smell the cherry flavor of your glittery lip gloss. You must taste so good, he can already feel your soft lips against his while he takes his other hand and moves your curls over the left side of your shoulder. 

   You turn your head back gradually, exposing the veins in your slender neck while it gives him access to dip his lips against the curve of your neck. “Joel,” you whisper out, your insides shaking as the hand on your back sinks down to the curve of your hip. 

   He can’t respond, too lost in your delicious scent while his hand dances against the silk of your tempting skin. He’s a bad man, putting himself in this vulnerable position where he’s alone with you, with your zipper completely down and your dress barely holding itself against your perfect body. 

   He should go back outside, stay away from your midnight eyes, your luscious locks, your sweet smelling perfume, but he can’t. He just can’t. He’d rather die than to leave you alone now, untouched, not taken care of. He’s your bodyguard, he’s paid to take care of you. So he will, in every way that he can. He’ll have his way with you. If your zipper can be fixed then who's to say that ache between your legs can’t, too? 

   He spins you around, your chest pressed flush against his while he slowly backs you up against the wall, caging you in with his strong arms while he breathes in your sweet vanilla scent that drives him wild. He sees the cleavage practically spilling from the top of your undone dress, wants to fucking rip it to shreds until there’s nothing left but your glowing skin under the tips of his pressing fingers. 

   He takes a hand and pushes back a strand of curls behind your ear, lingering his thick fingers along your jawline while you breathe in the woodsy mahogany smell, his expensive cologne that you could lather yourself in just to smell like him. He’s so close that he could lean down and press his lips to yours, so close that you could twist your fingers through those lush curls that you so desperately want to meld your fingers to. 

   You’ve never been this close to him before, to where you can see just how pretty and clear his brown flecked eyes are. You’re driving yourself into dangerous territory, but you don’t care. No one’s here to stop you from making any mistakes, and Joel is not a mistake.

   He hovers over you, dragging his lips against your jawline and stopping at the shell of your ear, lingering there while his meaty hands dig into the curve of your hips. “We shouldn’t… I shouldn’t,” he says with gritted teeth, painfully dragging out the words while he tickles the shell of your ear with his plush lips. 

   “Why not?” you whine pathetically as you place a hand under his shirt, making him jump while you graze over the happy trail that leads underneath his jeans. It makes a deep groan slip from his throat. 

   “I’m twice your age. You jus’ turned twenty-five, I’m pushing forty-five. I’m your bodyguard. I should be more respectful, shouldn’t give in to a pretty thing like you,” he murmurs as he feels his cock hardening beneath the denim of his jeans. 

   “I don’t care that you’re older or that you’re my bodyguard,” you mumble as your fingers tug the leather belt free from his jeans. 

   He groans, licking the edge of your ear while he fights to find an ounce of control in his desperate body. He finds none. “We shouldn’t, darlin’. It’d be irresponsible on my part. What if the paparazzi found out? They’d turn the headlines into a hell of a mess. Hell, your publicist would kill me,” he says defeatedly while his hands stay glued to your hips. 

   “I don’t care what my publicist says, I don’t care about the paparazzi. I know what I want, Joel. I know you want it, too. Just as much as I do.”

   He groans against you, doing his best to resist you, but he can’t. He’s a weak man for you, and he’ll give in with the snap of your fingers. He’s got no fight left in him, he’s all yours. “Are you sure, sweetheart? You want this? Want me?”

   You grip tighter to his jeans, dragging his hips flush against yours as you feel the swell of his cock through the denim. He’s so fucking big, and you haven’t even seen him yet. “Yes, Joel. Please. Want you, only you,” you stifle out a moan as his lips trail against your neck, gently nipping and sucking against your sensitive areas while his hands ghost over the curve of your breasts. 

   “God, I can’t say no to you, gorgeous. You don’t even know what you do to me every time I see you up on that stage, singin’ with that angelic voice of yours, dancin’ around all flirtatiously while you make me so fuckin’ hard beneath my jeans.”

   You groan at his filthy words, letting him spread your legs while one of his parts your legs wider. One hand trailing up your inner thigh while his other slowly pulls against the top of your pink dress. “You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to do this for so long, how much I’ve wanted to press my face between those thick thighs of yours,” he groans as he trails his lips against the cleavage of your dress. 

   “Probably just as long as I’ve wanted you to,” you pant out as he tugs at the hem of your dress. 

   “Yeah, s’that right?” he teases, dragging his teeth lower down your breasts. 

   “Mhm. Joel, fuck. Taste me, touch me, fuck me,” you beg as you wrap your arms around his neck. 

   “Fuck you, hmm? That what you want?” he teases while he slowly pulls your dress free, hearing it drop to the floor when all you’re left in is your shorts and tights. 

   “Yes, please. Want you, need you to touch me. Do it, Joel. Please,” you whine, twisting your fingers around the curls around the base of his neck.

   He chuckles out, sucking in a breath as he fully obliges your request. “Alright, pretty pop star. If that’s what you want, how can I say no to you?”

   He leaves you with no warning, cupping one breast in his large palm while he sucks on your other one, running his tongue in circles until your nipples are pebbled and swollen beneath his tongue, his mouth, his hands. He does the same to the other one, languidly sliding his tongue over the pebbled bud while he massages your breasts with his calloused fingers. 

   He bathes in your moans, making certain to get you all worked up where he knows you’re already soaking beneath your panties. That’s where he wants you wet, begging for him to touch you. 

   “Joel,” you whine, feeling his fingers fall free from your pebbled breasts. 

   “I know, baby. I know. Don’t worry, gonna take care of my girl.”

   Before you can speak, he cups your face and sinks his plush lips against the gloss of yours, melding his mouth to yours while he tastes the cherry flavor of your lip gloss. You part your lips for him, inviting him in as you feel him lick feverishly into your mouth. Your tongues dance together in unison, allowing him to tangle his with yours while he revels in your pretty moans against his hungry mouth. He’s starving for you, absolutely famished while he takes and takes from you, letting his tongue explore the entirety of your open mouth. If you taste this good, just think how absolutely divine you must be between your legs.

   His hands roam down to your shorts, slipping his fingers inside the waistband and tugging them free of your skin. You step out of your high heels, kick the pink shorts aside and allow his mouth to break free of yours. You pant tirelessly, watching him kneel between your legs as he starts to run his fingers up and down your thighs. 

   He looks up at you, his eyes becoming dark pits that consume him whole. He’s feral for you, and he won’t stop till he has every last drop from you. “You have another pair of these?” he asks, nodding to your tights. 

   “I’ve got a million pairs,” you say out of breath. 

   He smirks up at you before he tears into the flesh of your tights, ripping them to shreds while one of his large hands meets the lace of your panties. “What about these, hmm? Gonna miss these?”

   You shake your head, unable to get a word out as you swallow a whine in the back of your throat. “No?” he asks all deep and gravelly while his thumb traces against the edge of your lace, sliding down to put some pressure between your drenched lips. 

   You throw your head back and whine, begging him to continue on. “No, Joel. Just take them off, please. Need you,” you breathe out desperately. 

   “That’s all you had to say, sweetheart.” He takes no time, ripping into the seam of your panties as you watch him split them in half, throwing them in a pile on the floor while his eyes blow wide when he takes in the bare sight of you. 

   He groans to himself, dragging a finger through your wet arousal, parting you in the middle as he hears the sloshing sounds come from his thumb spreading the wetness all across your dripping core. He inhales you, reveling in the pretty noises you make while he takes his time exploring you, gathering the slick on his calloused fingers as he burns the sight of your messy pussy in the back of his brain. 

   “Shit, baby. Already so fuckin’ wet for me. This what I do to you, hmm? You always this wet around me?”

   “Mhm,” you moan, feeling his fingers pull you apart as more slick pools between your thighs. 

   “All this for me, goddamn. Ain’t I jus’ the luckiest man alive.” He licks a thick stripe up your core, dragging his tongue to lap up the slick that spills from your insides, making you pant out with need as he makes you come undone. “Don’t worry, baby. Gonna take real good care of this pretty pink pussy. Just sit back, relax, and let me do all the work.”

   He doesn’t even give you a chance to breathe, he just dives right in. He takes the flat of his tongue and strokes your folds, working you up and down while he soaks in the sweet taste of you. He hooks one of your pliant legs over his shoulder while you fight to not break already. 

   He drags his nose through the curls above your mound, sucking your swollen clit into his mouth while he breathes in the sensational musk of your pussy, drinking down your sticky arousal that makes his taste buds come to life. He’s never tasted a pussy this sweet before in his life, never quite experienced the high of such an intoxicating body before. He’s wanted you for so long now, and he never even imagined it’d be this good before. 

   “Joel,” you moan above him, wrapping your delicate fingers through his messy curls, driving out a deep groan from him by the way you cling to him. He loves the feel of you in his hair, pulling and tugging while you bite your lower lip and moan his name over and over again. It’s like an addictive drug he’s prescribed to, and he needs more, wants more of you. 

   He slips two digits into your drenched hole, filling you so full while his thick fingers curl and hit that spongy area that makes you see bright lights flash before your eyes. He revels in your moans, eliciting more with every touch and curl of his fingers, with every feverish lick to your messy center. 

   “Yeah? You like that, baby? Feel good?” Joel purrs while he watches you fall apart beneath his fingers. 

   “So good, Joel. Want you to - ahhh,” you whine as he pulls your aching bundle of nerves back into his warm mouth, releasing it with a pop as more slick covers his knuckles. 

   “Mmm, s’that right, sweetheart? Gonna cum for me? C’mon baby girl, go on and soak me,” he purrs. 

   You feel the white hot sensation taking over, feel his long fingers curl up to hit that spot again and again while he pulls your aching clit back into his mouth. And it feels so fucking good that you just can’t hold on any longer. “Joel, I’m gonna… fuck, I’m coming,” you whine as you release your pent up energy, soaking his knuckles while he works you nice and slow, licking at your core as the slick builds on his tongue, drinking you down till he soothes that aching need in his throat. 

   You come down slowly, feeling your body go through the tingling sensations that make you feel so alive. You’ve never had it this good before, not before Joel. He’s going to be the end of your demise. 

   You look down at him between your legs, fingers still curled inside your core while he slowly drags them out of you with a groan from your lips. He pops the digits into his mouth, sucking the sweet release while he moans your name. He looks fucking wrecked, his hair all tousled and messy, wide eyes blown out to black pits that want to devour you whole. The way he’s looking at you makes you think he’s not done with you, and he’s not. Oh no, he’s just getting started. 

   “Such a good girl for me,” he purrs, sliding his calloused fingers up to your hips while he unhooks your leg from his shoulder. “I’m not done with you yet, baby. Now, c’mere.”

   He throws you over his shoulder, a surprised gasp coming from your lips as he takes you over to the velvet couch. He drops you on your hands and knees, not giving you a moment to breathe while he situates himself behind you and spreads your legs wide. 

   He takes a few seconds to admire your glistening core, sitting back on his heels as he rakes a hand slowly over his greying scruff, taking in the absolute beauty that sits before him. He’s never seen a sight like this that he goes head over heels for, sliding his tongue between his teeth as he whispers how fucking perfect you are.

   He groans your name, dragging his thumb up and down your sticky folds while one hand spreads your cheeks wide. He says your name repeatedly, taking in the sight of you in front of him. He thinks you’re so fucking pretty, all messy and dripping just for him. He wants to just slip your scent, your taste into his own cologne, mix the two together until he can only smell you on his body. 

   He licks at your core, spreading you wide while he devours you whole. He pulls at your glistening clit, languidly circling the swollen bud that calls sinfully to him. He wants to give you all the orgasms, drink you down till you have nothing left to give, curl his fingers inside your heated core, work you over till the only thing you can say is his name through your pretty moans. 

   He thrives in the musk of you, the taste of your cherry lips, the sweet saltiness of your warm cum. If he could give it a name, he’d call you his special jasmine flower, known to be the sweetest, most fragrant flower in the world. That’s what you are to him. The rarest flower that ever came into his reach, his life. 

   He licks against your slick folds, working his fingers in and out of your delicious cunt, slurping on your sensitive mound while he drowns it in his own drool, lusting after you until you writhe beneath him and give him another mind blowing orgasm. 

   “Joel, I’m coming, I’m coming,” you cry, spilling yourself all over his digits and inside his heated mouth. He can’t reply, too busy drinking you down as he groans good girl through the taste of you on his large tongue. 

   He swallows all the slick between your thighs, holding you up together while your legs shake uncontrollably. You may have fallen apart on his tongue twice, but he still wants more. He’s greedy like that when something belongs to him. You’re his as far as he’s concerned now, and he always takes care of what’s his. 

   “Joel, wanna… wanna…” you stutter tirelessly, out of breath from the insane orgasm he pulled from your body. 

   “What do ya need, sweetheart? Use your words,” he coaxes, placing a hand gently at the small of your back as he strokes small circles into the heat of your skin.

   “Your cock. Let me suck your cock, make you feel good, too,” you whine out, grinding your teeth together as he gently blows on your aching core. 

   “Not this time, baby. Later. Gotta take care of you first. This time I wanna have my way with you, want your cum dripping down my tongue, making my cock all messy from your sweet release. Wanna bottle you up and make you my own personal brand of whiskey,” he growls as he pulls his t-shirt over his head and frantically slides his jeans and boxers over his feet, disposing the sweaty material on the ground. 

   He hisses as he spreads the precum over his shaft, pumping himself a couple times before he grabs your hips and scoots you back, stifling a moan from your mouth as he plunges his massive cock into your throbbing pussy. 

   “Oh, shit. Joel,” you whine, filling the room with your sweet incantations while he fills you so full of him. 

   “Yeah? You like that, dirty girl? Takin’ this cock so good, squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight,” he growls, pulling your hair back as your head snaps up, his mouth meeting yours as he licks feverishly inside, swallowing your moans while he continues his frantic thrusts into your weeping pussy. 

   He pulls out from you, throwing you on your back while he hooks your legs over his shoulders, rutting back inside you as his cock gets covered in your sticky slick. You throw your arms around his neck while he finds your mouth again, licking inside, moaning your name on the tip of his tongue as he speeds up his thrusts inside you. 

   The sounds are obscene, the wet smacking noises of his hard cock drilling inside your drenched pussy reverberating off the glow of the pristine walls. He releases his mouth from yours, leaning back to take in the gorgeous view that’s you. You’re splayed all over the couch, your perky breasts bouncing up and down with every thrust of his cock, your eyes all glossed over and fucked out while he takes you nice and slow. He thinks you’re a vision, a full on masterpiece that deserves to be displayed in an art gallery, your mouth making that pretty O shape while you chant his name angelically. 

   “Know you’re close, baby. Squeezin’ me so tight, feels so good,” he moans through the grit of his teeth. 

   “Joel, I’m gonna… gonna… fuck,” you whine as you feel that all too familiar white hot sensation rush through your entire body. 

   “Oh yeah, baby. That’s it. Such a good fuckin’ girl. Go on now, soak this cock,” he coaxes. 

   He watches you fall apart beneath him, beautiful, glossy eyes rolling back as you drag your manicured nails down his back, giving him the prettiest moans as you clench around him and release your cum all down his quivering cock. 

   “Good girl,” he praises, talking you through your intense orgasm as he quickens the strokes inside you, reaching heights you never could without him, kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock. It feels so fucking good, and you just gave him the best three orgasms of your life. You’re exhausted, but you need him to finish. You need him inside you. 

   Sweat drips off his forehead, ending in his tousled curls as he bares his teeth, barely able to hold on any longer. “Baby, I’m about to cum. I can’t hold on much longer. Where do you want me, sweetheart? Where do you want me to spill?”

   “Inside Joel, paint me white inside. Cum inside my pussy, please,” you beg. 

   He moans as he calls your name, giving you a couple more thrusts before he paints the insides of your thighs white with hot ropes of cum, throwing his head back as he revels in the ecstasy of filling you up with his seed, claiming you as his own. 

   He pulls out and twists you around, collapsing on his back against the velvet couch while you fall into his chest, his meaty hands holding you tight around the waist while you both come down from your intense orgasmic high. The room smells like sex and sweat, hints of vanilla and cherry flavored lips lingering around the room. It smells like heaven, Joel’s heaven. 

   Through the sounds of rushed breaths and tired bodies, he reaches up and hooks a strand of loose hair behind your ear, lingering his calloused fingers against your jawline while he assesses the beautiful starlights in your eyes. He thinks you’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever laid eyes on, and now you’re all his. 

   You look at him just the same, memorizing the flecks of dark honey that make up his bright eyes, dragging your fingertips through his salt-and-pepper scruff, letting your other hand glide through his messy tousled curls. He may be your bodyguard who works for you, but now he’s so much more than that. He’s yours, and you’ll never let him go now. 

   “Still think this was a bad idea?” you ask with a raised brow, challenging him to say anything but yes. 

   “Too late for asking me that, sweetheart. I changed my mind. You’re jus’ what I needed,” he smiles, the flecks of his eyes shimmering amber as your own eyes sparkle with bliss. 

   “Glad you came around,” you giggle as he drags his fingers up and down your jawline softly. 

   “All ‘cause of a fuckin’ broken zipper. You know I can’t stop now, sweetheart? One taste of you and now I’m hooked. Afraid I can’t let you go now.”

   You lean into his chest, giving him your best dreamy smile as you trace the ends of a tousled greying curl. “Then don’t. Be mine, Joel.”

   “I’m all yours, sweetheart. All yours,” he whispers before he cups your face and brings your head down, meeting the plush of his lips as he kisses you nice and slow. 

   You melt into him, parting your lips so he can slot his way in, tangling his tongue with yours as you taste yourself in his mouth. You stay like that for minutes, getting lost in his soft touch, his musk, his dreamy eyes. You never want to leave this trailer, never want to be parted from Joel. The only question is, how will you ever be able to keep your hands off him in public? 

   You lean your head into the crevice of his neck, nestling up to his soft scruff that smells like him. You sigh and tangle your fingers with his while he holds you close to his side. “Guess we won’t see any more performances tonight?” 

   “I don’t know, baby,” he chuckles underneath you. “Think we need a shower and some food. Maybe take you for round two afterwards. But it’s up to you. We can either stay here or go watch more of the sets tonight. Whatever you want.”

   You think it over, but ultimately decide on his first offer. “Mmm, I think I’ll go with the first pick. Rather be here with you, in your arms, where it feels right.”

   He sighs, lingering a soft kiss on your cheek as he pushes back a falling curl. “Okay, beautiful. That’s what we’ll do then. You want pepperoni pizza? That’s your favorite, right?”

   “Mhm,” you nod. “Sounds perfect.”

   He chuckles, the chocolate flecks glistening in his pretty eyes. He looks so dreamy, almost unreal that he's underneath you, his skin glowing from the sight of you. “I’ve wanted you for so long, sweetheart. Can’t believe this is actually happening.”

   “I feel the same, Joel. Thought you might’ve caught on sooner with all the flirting I’ve been doing, especially up on stage. I might love getting a crowd pumped up, but there’s nothing more I love than making you blush at the side of the stage.”

   He tips his head back and laughs, his voice all deep and gravelly as he flicks his eyes back to you. “Oh, I caught on, darlin’. Figured you were tryin’ to get a reaction out of me, and you did. Now look at us,” he teases, cupping your chin with the palm of his large hand, causing tingles to run down your spine. 

   “Yeah, just look at us. A pop star and a bodyguard getting off on each other. Thought it’d only happen in my dreams,” you sigh, propping yourself up with your elbow on his sweat covered broad chest. 

   “Well, baby, it’s real. It happened. Reckon you’re mine now, yeah?”

   Your eyes perk up, a huge smile glistening across your shiny lips as you nod your head. “I’m all yours, Joel. As long as you’ll have me.”

   “Baby, I ain’t ever gonna let you go now. You’re all mine, and I’m gonna spend my days protectin’ and lovin’ this pretty pop star. That’s what you are, baby. You’re my shining star.”

   “And you’re my knight in shining bodyguard,” you giggle. 

   “Mhm, sure am, doll. And I don’t plan on ever lettin’ you go.”

   You fold back into his chest, pressing your lips hungrily against his. Eventually he carries you to the shower, helps wash off all the sweat and slick from earlier, until he takes you to your bed and makes love to you all over again. And it continues throughout the whole night, until both of you are passed out in each other's arms. 

   This is where you belong, in the arms of your fierce protector, your handsome bodyguard that you’re head over heels for. Your favorite brown eyed keeper. 

Tags: @laramc-02 @amyispxnk @sawymredfox @burntheedges @vivian-pascal

@littlevenicebitch69 @keylimebeag @msjarvis @akah565 @milla-frenchy

@aurorawritestoescape @alltheirdamn

[cherriegyuu]

so high school | kmg | part 1

pairing: hockey player mingyu x f!reader  genre: smut (in later part), fluff, a bit of angst, bad attempt at comedy word count: 8.8k summary: when you’re suddenly thrown in Mingyu’s direction, you have no choice but to stay by his side, and maybe it’s not as bad as you think playlist: click here a/n: i wanted to write a story that was light, summeryish. it was based off of taylor swift’s song so high school (i’m not that creative with names), i wanted to write that sort of cute romance we all just love. i truly hope you like it, this one is precious to me. thank you to @joonsytip for helping me with this one. please, remember to comment and reblog, it does mean the world to me and i would love to know your opnions.

< part two >

If there was one thing you hated about college, it was having to choose electives. For starters, you really didn’t want to be there. You were a good student because you had no choice, not because you absolutely loved college — not that your major was boring and you hated everything about it, but it really did seem like a universal experience to hate your chosen major at some point in college. But the problem was that taking the courses related to your major was hard enough as it was, you didn’t want to have to worry about subjects that might or might not add to what you were studying. Of course, you always tried to choose something that had at least a minimum to do with your major — Art History.

But there were times, like the previous semester when you procrastinated too much to choose one, that it simply wasn’t possible, and you had to put up with classes on Cultural Management. At first, you thought it would be geared towards galleries and the like, but it was something much more specific about public cultural heritage and that wasn’t what you wanted. At least the subject was easy enough. Just reading a few pages of Kira’s notes and listening to half of the lectures was enough to get you through with a high grade.

Trying to be a little smarter, and do something you actually enjoyed doing, you signed up for the semester’s classes as soon as they opened. You were already sitting in front of your computer when the clock struck 10 am. You chose a class that all of your classmates, or at least the ones you talked to, were interested in doing: Model Making.

It was something you enjoyed doing when you were younger. Your parents knew that if you simply disappeared or were too quiet — aka you weren’t yelling at Jeonghan — you’d be in your room surrounded by modeling clay, chopsticks, glue, brushes, and paint, or whatever materials you were using at the time. 

However, all of your dreams were shattered when you ran into Kira at the campus entrance. 

“You know, the teacher for this class is crazy. Your life is going to be hell” was like a cold shower.

After that, it was as if everywhere you went, people were purposefully talking about the subject, about how the teacher was absolutely crazy and that getting a good grade with her was almost impossible, and how she “seems to take a sick pleasure in failing students.” So when the day of class finally arrived, the first of the next six hellish months, you dragged yourself into the classroom. You chose the seat furthest away from her, hidden behind a student, and did your best to stay as out of sight as possible. 

The guy sitting in front of you turned around. He was smiling widely. You weren’t sure if he was trying to be friendly or what. 

“Do you know if what everyone’s saying is true?” 

There was something about him that was familiar. You obviously knew who he was, it was no secret. Everywhere you went, people were either whispering about him or there was a picture of him and the other guys on the team taped to the wall.

Kim Mingyu, star of the ice hockey team. The youngest to become captain, top scorer, the big sensation who would lead the university to the long-awaited championship. All that blah blah blah about the chosen athlete, and the latest savior of the nation.

So yes, you knew who he was, there was no way you couldn't know. But at that specific moment, while he was sitting in front of you, his body turned in the chair at a strange angle because he was obviously too big for that tiny chair, there was something about him that was strangely familiar.

"That the teacher is crazy?" he nodded, his eyebrows slightly arched and his lips almost forming a pout "I haven't heard anyone say otherwise, so I have no choice but to believe it."

You lowered your eyes and focused on the lit screen of your cell phone, which showed a new message from your brother. You didn't look away because you wanted to know what Jeonghan wanted, as far as you were concerned his message would only be read at the end of the day, if that. You didn't want to keep looking at Mingyu when you felt that everyone in the classroom was looking at you.

You knew it wasn't exactly true, there was no way an entire class, full of students talking to each other, could be looking at you at the same time as if you were doing something scandalous or even remotely wrong. But you knew there were a few people, and that was more than enough. It was a very familiar feeling, one you preferred not to revisit.

Even though you completely ignored Mingyu's presence or his gaze on you, he still hadn't turned around. Not even when the teacher entered the room and everyone fell silent.

The problem with being a child who didn’t have many experiences is that you become a fearful person. Everything seems big, larger than life, and sometimes everything seems infinite and far beyond reach. It’s a much easier choice to retreat into that familiar corner and pretend the world outside simply doesn’t exist. The bubble you created for yourself was small and admittedly, sometimes suffocating, but it was also comforting.

But everything can change when you meet people who aren’t aware of that bubble, or who didn’t create those spaces for themselves. They weren’t trapped inside it.

One class was more than enough to start a crack in your perfectly intact bubble. A selective introvert, as you liked to say. For a loud hockey player when he was surrounded by his friends, Seokmin was strangely shy.

When the teacher was choosing the pairs, you closed your eyes, praying to anyone who would listen not to pair you with a bad student, someone who wouldn't do anything and you would have to do all the work alone. The prayer, or whatever it was, was not heard because the teacher decided it would be a great idea to pair you and Seokmin. Maybe you were under the wrong impression, falling into the old suspicions and stereotypes, but you doubted very much that you would be able to get any kind of help from Seokmin.

And to be quite honest, after a bad experience with a group mate, to the point of ending up at the police station, because the guy simply couldn't accept the fact that you taking his name off the work was completely his fault and you simply didn't think it was fair that you did everything alone and he still got a good grade, you were okay with doing everything on your own. You were sure that if you opened your email, and clicked on your spam box because God was a witness to the number of emails you had received from that idiot, there would probably still be some unread emails from him, bragging that even with your “attempt” to jeopardize his education, he had managed to get a good enough grade to pass the class. 

Despite everything, Seokmin was nice and seemed interested enough, although a little lost, but maybe a little push in the right direction would be enough. 

“I took this class because I thought it would be easy,” he said laughing, a little shy, “I guess I was wrong.” 

You nodded, absentmindedly turning the page of your notebook with the notes you had made. 

“I took it because I like the idea of ​​building models.”

The classroom door opened with a bang, slamming against the wall. Everyone turned to him, some girls laughing. Mingyu was obviously late, his hair still wet from the shower, his backpack inside out on his shoulder, his shirt completely wrinkled as if it had just come out of a cow’s mouth. The teacher stood up and walked towards him slowly, her arms crossed over her chest.

“He’s screwed.” Seokmin laughed softly, or as softly as he could.

The teacher didn’t have a welcoming look in her eyes, if anything she seemed to be glaring at Mingyu, and not even the best smile he could throw in her direction would make a difference. In addition to being crazy, the teacher was also apparently known for not accepting tardiness.

It was impossible to look away as Mingyu tried, without any success, to open his mouth to explain, but the teacher wouldn’t let him say a single word. You and Seokmin suppressed a laugh when the teacher looked in the direction where she thought the noise was coming from before turning back to Mingyu, who seemed more desperate by the second. He looked lost standing in front of the older woman, his head lowered like a child who had misbehaved and was listening to a lecture.

Finally, the teacher dismissed him with a wave of her hands and turned back to her desk, completely ignoring Mingyu. He finally turned back to the desks, his eyes scanning the space before finally settling on Seokmin. Or… on you? There was no reason to believe he was looking at you, none at all. When Mingyu smiled, you went back to looking at your notes, flipping the pages almost compulsively, looking for anything and nothing.

You had no idea why your heart was behaving like that, beating almost animalistically inside your chest, or why you felt a single drop of sweat run down your spine — despite the air conditioning being on and you feeling cold. You could have sworn you could hear Mingyu’s footsteps going up the stairs, despite the sound of the students’ conversations around you being obviously much louder.

“At least I got something good for being late today.”

Mingyu pulled out the empty chair next to you and sat down, his knee bumping against yours. You flinched a little and moved away, making yourself closer to Seokmin.

“Sorry,” you said to Seokmin and turned to Mingyu. “Could you…?”

You waved your hand to make him move away. He looked confused for a second until he pushed the chair further away from you. On the other side, Seokmin covered his mouth, trying to stifle a laugh, while Mingyu glared at him.

“The teacher who chose your group?” Seokmin asked, still trying to suppress a laugh.

“She just said to sit with whoever wasn’t already in a trio”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Great, you were stuck with two jocks who had probably hit their heads on the ice so much that their brains had turned to jelly in their early twenties.

“What do we have to do?”

“Build 3 models based on architectural periods.” When Mingyu widened his eyes, you added, “It’s the entire semester’s work. We don’t even have to come to class anymore, just the last one to hand it in.”

You started gathering the few materials you had taken out of your bag. The notebook and pen quickly disappeared into what Jeonghan called a black hole. “What goes in there never comes out again. If you look hard enough, you’ll find a wallet I lost in high school.”

“Look, I know I’m going to do this alone. I'll find a way to let you know the periods I chose and the artists and you guys study for the presentation.” 

You stood up, pushing the chair back with your knees, making a lot more noise than expected, which in turn made most of the people turn to see what was happening, including the teacher. 

“Wait,” Mingyu said, holding the strap of your bag. 

Not that you could get out of there anyway, he was between you and any possibility of leaving. But you thought he would get out of the way if he saw that you wanted to leave.

“I'll help, it's my job too,” with his free hand, he pointed to Seokmin behind you. “Ours, actually.” 

Despite the sincere look on his face, you laughed.

“Look, I don't want to offend you guys, okay? But the three of us know that won't happen. There will always be a practice, a game, a party, something that will stop you from doing your part of the work. I don’t mind doing it alone, it won’t be the first time, and considering I still have two more semesters to go, it won’t be the last. It’s okay, really.”

Mingyu stood up and for a moment you were sure he was going to get out of your way, but somehow he managed to block your path even more. You couldn’t help but wonder if he had always been this tall and wide. When he was around the other players it didn’t seem like it, but him standing in front of you…

“I said we’ll help” 

He took his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it, turning the device towards you.

“You know, your hands are huge, and this is a very delicate job” What exactly were you talking about?

“He’s more skilled than you can imagine,” Seokmin said. 

Once again, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. The teacher was definitely crazy, and it seemed like she had some kind of personal vendetta against you. Or was it a curse cast by Jeonghan for staining his white shirts? Whatever it was, it was a problem that, at the moment, had no obvious solution.

“If I fail this class because of you two idiots, maybe one of you will lose a hand.” You snatched the phone from Mingyu’s hand, dialed your number, and quickly handed it back. “Maybe both of you”

You put your hand on Mingyu’s shoulder and pushed him back. You tried your best to avoid any kind of contact, but it was the only solution you could find to pass.

“It’s not a matter of life or death, you know?” he said, laughing.

“I’ve never failed in my life, and I’m not going to start now.”

Mingyu pushed the door open with perhaps a little more force than necessary. He wasn't angry, but he wasn't happy either, a strange feeling somewhere in between that he didn't like very much.

That first day he had seen you in class was like he had been transported back to high school. He could almost hear you saying, in the most disinterested tone in the world, "I've been waiting for you for two hours, could we please go home?" At that time he had also felt invisible to your eyes.

But so many years later, in that classroom, he thought you would recognize him. Mingyu thought, as naive as it may seem, that despite your disinterest at the time, at least you would know who he was.

Of all the people he could meet in that class, you were the last one that ever crossed his mind. It had been years since he had last seen you, since Jeonghan's last game, when he was crowned champion for the third time - an unprecedented feat until that moment. Mingyu had even tried to beat that record, but his runner-up position in the third year had prevented him from doing so. 

He had gotten used to seeing you from afar, always the unreachable sister of his captain, who always seemed to be much more interested in the books you carried around with you than in anything else. 

The truth was that you had never even directed a word in Mingyu's direction. Besides Jeonghan, he had only seen you talk to one other person, Seungcheol. It had never been clear to him if it was by choice or if it was because Jeonghan always said you were off-limits. Maybe it was somewhere in between. 

However, when you entered the room, looking for an empty chair, Mingyu expected you to recognize him, even though so many years had passed. When you walked up the stairs and seemed to be heading towards him, Mingyu, like a silly teenager, expected you to at least greet him. But you walked right past him as if he wasn't even there. 

Even so, he tried to talk to you. Something about the teacher being crazy and the look in your eyes said that you couldn't wait for him to shut up and look straight ahead again.

After that, it was like he saw you everywhere, and believe him, he wasn't looking for you. In the café that opened on the other side of the campus, in the library, when he went to return a book, in the hallway of the building, on the lawn. Mingyu spent five years without having any kind of contact with you and, suddenly, you were everywhere.

He chose to see it as a divine sign. As if the guy up there was saying "Now is your chance". And then, as if all these signs weren't enough, he was given the chance to do an assignment with you, almost like a gift.

"The door didn't do anything to you," Seokmin said laughing.

"Do you want to be the door?" 

Maybe the divine signal was broken, maybe the guy up there was messing with him because in less than 5 minutes you managed to extinguish any and all excitement Mingyu could have about doing the assignment with you. All you had to do was open your mouth.

“Dude, she just doesn’t remember you” Seokmin laughed again, having a little too much fun with the whole situation “If you say, ‘hi, I was your brother’s teammate’, she’ll still not remember you, but maybe she’ll be less hostile”

Mingyu highly doubted that was the case. There was a rumor that you hated everything and anything that had to do with hockey, your patience was less than zero. Jeonghan was the king of the ice, the best the sport could produce. You were the ice princess without ever having even put on a pair of skates �� or so the gossip said. 

“It doesn’t bother me that she doesn’t remember me” It did bother him, but he wouldn’t admit it “It bothers me that she thinks I’m stupid”

Usually, under completely normal circumstances, Mingyu would even prefer to be seen as stupid and without anything in his head. It was easier, it prevented people from creating any kind of expectation about him. Strangely, he wanted you to see him as intelligent.

“You’re a bit contradictory, aren’t you? You’ve spent the last 3 years cultivating the image of a dumb athlete, who gets good grades by pure luck, despite the almost impossible subjects, but now you want her to think you’re smart”

“I didn’t know you knew how to use the word contradictory”

You stared at the lit screen of your cell phone. The unknown number was glowing and the inviting green button was almost begging you to answer the call. It was already the third time he had called and it would also be the third time you had ignored him.

“You know, it won’t hurt if you answer his call,” Kira said beside you, but she also knew that trying to convince you was a losing game.

Exactly 11 days had passed since the fateful class that had put you in a group with Seokmin and Mingyu. While you had no direct problems with either of them, besides them being hockey players, Mingyu’s insistence irritated you in a way that didn’t make much sense — not even to you. You should have felt relieved that he wanted to do the work, and that he was interested in participating. But the truth is that you knew how this worked, you had been in that situation before and hadn’t had the best experience.

Maybe you were a little too hard on him, it's true, but it's like the old saying goes: a scalded cat fears cold water.

“I want to keep as far away from him as possible.”

Kira rolled her eyes for what seemed like the twentieth time. She understood, to some extent, your dislike for players and also knew that a lot of it came from your brother, but in the case of Mingyu, specifically, you were definitely going too far.

“Look, the rumors are that he's a good student, actually. Always with high grades.” Kira tried to argue.

You knew the rumor well, even before you were put in the same group, in fact, much to your chagrin, Mingyu had chosen to be in the same group as you. That helped a lot with the huge reputation he had around the college. Handsome, athletic, good student. But you didn't believe it for a minute.

You didn’t know if Mingyu really had any good grades, but if he did, you were sure he hadn’t gotten them in the most… fairway.

“And he’s not unpleasant to look at at all.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes at him. Yes, Mingyu was gorgeous, breathtaking, the kind of guy that made you wonder if he was even real. You had eyes and they worked just fine, you didn’t need Kira to remind you that he was handsome. Saying Mingyu was handsome was like saying the sky was blue, obvious, and expected.

“You know I don’t mess with athletes.”

Finally, Mingyu had given up on the call, but that didn’t mean he had given up completely. Your phone only had a few seconds of respite before the screen lit up again, but this time with a ton of messages.

Unknown - 11:32

hi, it's mingyu

Unknown - 11:32

again

Unknown - 11:33

answer me, I want to talk about the project

Unknown - 11:34

you said you want to do it alone, but it's not going to happen, you know? I can't leave my grande in the hands of a complete stranger

Unknown - 11:35

I see you with your phone in your hand, take my call or reply to my texts

You lifted your head so quickly that you felt a twinge in your neck.

"Shit"

You looked around the cafe, trying to find Mingyu, but most of the tables were empty and none of the people standing in line looked remotely like him. You brought your face closer to the glass, trying to find the tall, broad figure, outside, and still didn't see anyone who could be mistaken for him.

yn - 11:37

I could report you for stalking

Unknown - 11:37

crime: wanting to do a college assignment

yn - 11:37

following me around, calling me non-stop, texting me. It could be considered stalking, yes

Unknown - 11:38

again, crime: wanting to do a school project

Unknown - 11:38

also, I wasn’t following you, I just happened to see you

yn - 11:38

I already said I'll do it alone

Unknown - 11:39

and I already said it won't happen, so if you could tell me your plan on how to do it, that would be great

“We have to admit, he's persistent”

Mingyu's messages became common and also at the most random moments possible. You were sure that the only time he hadn't sent a text was when he was at the game last Friday. You knew this because you had watched the game, with the computer with the sound turned down so that Jeonghan wouldn't suspect anything. 

You hated to admit it, but he was good at what he did. Dared to say it was even glorious. It was hard to believe that a man of that size, so wide, could infiltrate the smallest spaces and score the most unbelievable goals possible. He and Seokmin together were almost magical. They still couldn't compare to the duo of Jeonghan and Seungcheol, but that was already a very high level to reach. 

Mingyu had given up on sending you texts only about work, not that you had answered any of them, but he also started asking about your course, inviting you and Kira to go to one of his games – you still wondered how he had found out about your friendship since all of your social media profiles were locked and so were Kira's.

You had to agree with Kira, he was persistent. You could even say tireless. If you were him, you would probably have given up a long time ago, choosing to let the crazy guy do the work alone. But Mingyu was nowhere near giving up. You knew this because every time you miraculously ran into Mingyu, you had to run away from him, practically having to run away from him at some point.

It worked very well for a week until one day he simply appeared in front of you. You were distracted, your eyes glued to your phone. Jeonghan was gliding across the ice with skill when the player from the other team hit him hard, his body flying before falling to the ice. You felt the air get stuck in your lungs until he stood up, clearly irritated by what had happened. You felt like laughing when you saw the name on the other player's shirt, the one who had pushed Jeonghan. Choi. Best friends in real life, rivals on the ice.

“What are you looking at so focused?” a voice said next to him.

You felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest as you tried to lock your phone and put it back in the bag. You wished you had been more graceful in the whole situation, to look less like someone who had been caught red-handed doing something they shouldn't have.

“Jeez, do you have no manners?” your voice came out louder than expected, causing some people around him to turn to see what was happening.

Beside you, Mingyu smiled, pleased with himself for having gotten some reaction beyond furrowed eyebrows and a look of disgust.

“Were you running away from me?” he raised his hand and corrected himself, “Not right now because you clearly had no idea I was here, but in general.” 

You rolled your eyes and quickened your pace. You didn’t really have anywhere to go or anything to do, there were still 50 minutes until your next class and there was no time to run home and hide. Would it be too pathetic to hide in the bathroom and wait for him to leave? With your luck, he would be waiting outside, even if it meant missing a class. 

“Why would I do that?” 

Mingyu crossed his arms over his chest. For the first time in your life, you wished someone was ugly, devoid of any kind of muscles or attractive qualities. You wished he was ugly, terrible to look at. You wished the sun wouldn’t make his skin shine, you wished you didn’t find the mole on the tip of his nose cute, wished you hadn’t wondered if maybe all this insistence of his didn’t have some extra reason, besides wanting to get the work done and obviously annoying you. Of all the things, you wished you hadn’t been disappointed when you hadn’t seen him for a day.

It was ridiculous, you knew it was. But whatever it may be, there you were, your heart pounding, feeling it throb in your neck. You wouldn’t fool yourself into thinking it was just because you were surprised by him suddenly being by your side. You could fool others, but at least you had to be fair to yourself.

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

Even though you knew it wasn’t a good idea, you stood still. You knew it would only attract more attention, it was almost inevitable when Mingyu was by your side. 

“Okay, I was. I don’t want to be seen with you.”

Mingyu looked confused, his head lolling to the side as if he was seriously thinking about what was happening. The question mark was clearly written on his face. It was almost as if one was floating above his head.

“Mingyu, look. You, in and of yourself, are not the problem. I mean, in part, it is, but you know, it's that old story, the problem is me, not you.”

“I honestly thought the problem was just the assignment.” He scratched his head, his eyebrows still furrowed. “You think I'm stupid and that kind of thing.”

You took a deep breath, your eyes closed for a second. You hadn't explained the situation to him, you had no reason to, so he had no way of knowing. But you also didn't want to expose your life to a stranger, so you weren’t willing to just tell secrets you’d never said out loud.

“If I tell you I’ll let you guys do your part, will you stop following me? It’s a little weird, and maybe even a little creepy.”

Your words were honest, it was weird and creepy at the same time. It didn’t make sense. Wouldn’t it be much easier for him, and for Seokmin, to just let you do everything yourself so they could focus on whatever was important to them? In your opinion, it was the easiest thing for everyone.

But Mingyu looked like a dog with a bone. A terrible analogy, but it made sense, at least to you.

“Yes,” a direct answer, great.

“Let’s do it like this then, let’s chat via text about the artists we think are cool, which are the most interesting. Once we’ve reached a consensus, we’ll get together to start making the models.”

You took a step back and held out your hand. A peace offering.

“We have a deal then.”

If regret killed, you would have been dead and buried so long ago that you would have turned into fertilizer. Logically, you knew that trusting Jeonghan was a mistake. You loved your brother with all your heart, but you also knew that he wasn't the most trustworthy person for certain things.

If you were in trouble and needed help? He was definitely the right guy for the job. He wouldn't say a word in a judgmental tone and, depending on the situation, he would go far enough to pretend it never happened. Now, if it was a request that he considered silly, then it was a lost cause. 

Besides all that, Jeonghan liked to play pranks, and you were one of his favorite victims. Things could even get a little out of hand when he and Seungcheol got together. It was like having two completely devilish older brothers. In truth, Seungcheol alone wasn't even that bad, but when he got together with Jeonghan it was like someone had opened the gates of hell. 

Even knowing all this, you had talked to him. You knew the house was his, that he could come and go as he pleased, but thought that if you played the little sister card well enough he would let it go.

"Some friends from college are coming over tomorrow, can you please not show up at home?" you asked, making your best puppy-dog-that-fell-out-of-the-moving-truck face.

"You don’t want me to meet your boyfriend?" he laughed, looking away from his phone for a second before returning his attention to the device.

You closed your eyes. Something was going on. Jeonghan was really into his phone, much more than usual. Either some nonsensical rumor had been published, which he would have already shown you and laughed along with you when he read the absurdities written; or he had a bone in his body, also known as a girlfriend. He always got more into his phone when he had someone more serious in his life.

It was useful information to have, so you put it in a little box in your mind labeled "something to blackmail Jeonghan with later" For now it was just speculation, but it could be important.

"How many boyfriends do you think I have?" You grimaced, shaking your head. “But no, none of them are my boyfriend. They’re just some guys I have to work with. I thought about doing it here because we need space and I’m sure I’ll yell at one of them sooner or later.”

You weren’t in the habit of bringing people home. Jeonghan was a person who really liked his private life to remain that way, private. Even with Kira, who was your closest friend, you had a hard time taking her home. Not because Jeonghan had asked. He knew that if you were asking, it was because you needed to or because you trusted those people enough to know who your brother was without it becoming a problem.

In fact, you weren’t sure of anything, not that you needed them or that you could trust them. But Jeonghan wasn’t one of those celebrities who had huge photos of themselves scattered around the house. It’s a little creepy, to be honest, he had said once. So the few photos he had around the living room were in normal-sized picture frames, which his mother had put up when she visited, so they could be easily hidden. The lie about the rich brother who works in the stock market was always on the tip of your tongue in case someone could question why you lived in a penthouse.

"I don't understand what's wrong with me being here then" His indifferent tone of voice was dangerous.

Maybe it would be better to give up.

"First because I don't need supervision, the virginity ship sailed a long time ago" 

It might be a good idea to talk about something he didn't like to talk about, like your past relationships. He could joke all he wanted, but at the end of the day, he was just a guy who didn't like knowing that his younger sister had boyfriends.

"For the love of god I don't need to know that in detail" He grimaced, pretending to vomit. He was such a good actor that he had even turned pale.

"And secondly, because they play hockey. Since there's no way they don't know who you are, I'd like to not witness another fanboy" 

You knew you had said the wrong thing when you noticed that gleam in Jeonghan's eyes. Even his expression had changed when you told him that your groupmates played hockey.

Still, you chose to believe him when he said he would be out of the house all day, that he would even go to Seungcheol's house after practice — which you thought was a lie, considering the whole situation with not putting down his phone and running when a notification came in. He had gone as far as to say, “let me know when it's over, so I can come home.” That's why you sent a message to the group chat with Seokmin and Mingyu asking if they had Tuesday night off.

A part of you, a very big part, thought they would deny it and make up any excuse not to show up, but it was almost as if they both had their phones in their hands waiting for your message.

And so, the three of you were sitting at Jeonghan's huge dining table. It was the kind of furniture that existed only to take up space, you always ate in the kitchen.

“You live well” Seokmin commented.

It was funny, and almost cute, how completely clumsy he was. You had bought different types of materials to test, thinking about which one would work best. Seokmin had changed several times, the last attempt was the biscuit.

“My brother earns well” you shrugged, hoping he wouldn't ask anymore.

To your surprise, he didn't ask. Which was a relief, you didn't want to lie.

Even without looking up, you knew Mingyu was looking at you. He didn't try to hide it at all. It was uncomfortable, but at the same time, it was flattering.

You rested your chin on your hand and stared at him too. Ever since the first day you had seen him in class, you had the feeling that you knew him. You didn't know where from, you didn't know how. It wasn't from college, it wasn't from the posters spread around, or from the fame he had. It was from before, before college, but you didn't know where. You were sure he wasn't in any of the courses you took and he wasn't from your school either, there was no hockey team.

“Where do I know you from?” the words came from your lips, but it was a question asked much more to you than to him.

Mingyu simply tilted his head to the side and didn't say a single word. Seokmin, who until then had his head down, his brow furrowed in concentration trying to shape the white mass in his hands, looked up, almost startled by your words.

It was as if a light bulb had been turned on over your head. It was so ridiculously obvious that you would be able to kick yourself.

And with perfect timing, as if it had been sent from heaven, programmed to the exact seconds, you heard the living room door open. A second later, Jeonghan was in the room.

“Mingyu?” Jeonghan said, his eyes darting from side to side, trying to understand what was happening.

“Captain,” Mingyu said, smiling.

You wished a hole the size of Mount Everest would open up beneath your feet and swallow you whole as you watched Mingyu stand up and greet Jeonghan as if they were old friends who hadn’t seen each other in years.

That was obviously true.

“You know each other” It wasn’t a question, it was a simple statement.

“Yes? Mingyu is a few years younger, but we played on the same team.”

Suddenly a brief movie flashed through your head, of all the times you had seen Mingyu — or at least the times that were never erased. Mingyu walking next to Jeonghan one of the times you were waiting for your brother in the school parking lot, him at the games, sitting on the bench completely irritated by the fact that he couldn’t play and the team was losing. He was a boy who was clearly too skinny, but somehow he had become that man in front of you.

“She doesn’t remember me,” Mingyu said with a laugh.

Was that a hint of resentment you heard in his voice? You hoped not, but maybe if you were in his shoes you would be resentful too. You hoped he hadn’t talked to you that first day because he expected you to recognize him and every time after that. Because most of the time you had been a complete jerk to him.

“Wow, you saw him literally every day for at least two years.”

It wasn’t like you weren’t already embarrassed enough on your own, of course, Jeonghan, in his best big brother role, had to add fuel to the fire. You hoped your cheeks weren’t as red as you felt them hot.

If the smile on Mingyu’s lips was any indication, you were completely screwed.

“I only remember Cheol. He was the only one you let get close to me.”

It was a futile attempt to defend yourself, but it was the only excuse you had. It was also the truth.

“That’s true,” Mingyu agreed, sitting back down.

It wasn’t a big secret that Jeonghan had forbidden all his teammates from getting close to you. It wasn’t like you desperately wanted their company anyway, so it was a win-win arrangement.

“You were a pain in the ass,” which was just another shovel of dirt for someone who was already buried, right?

“I was protecting you? The guys on the team…” he tried to defend himself, feigning offense.

You simply waved your hand at him, dismissing any kind of explanation he might have offered.

“They were teenagers full of testosterone and hormones. Not much has changed, you know.”

The three of them were startled when Seokmin slammed the table, his eyes wide as he stared at Jeonghan. For a few minutes, you had forgotten he was there.

“You are Yoon Jeonghan’s sister?” His voice had suddenly become shrill to the point of echoing in the room.

The laugh that escaped your lips was partly incredulous and partly desperate. Mingyu remembered you, but he hadn’t told anyone—not even his teammate—probably because he remembered it was something you kept people from knowing. In a way, you knew your secret's safe with him. But you didn’t know if you could trust Seokmin in the same way.

“He’s kind of slow sometimes.”

Mingyu pushed Seokmin out the door, hoping he would finally stop talking. His friend hadn’t realized the discomfort he had caused you yet. Jeonghan, as always, didn’t seem to care and on some level, he actually seemed to enjoy all the attention he was getting.

“It’s been a while since someone got this excited to see me,” he said, laughing when Seokmin went to the bathroom.

Either Jeonghan hadn’t realized how quiet you had been, or he had simply chosen not to do anything about it. Mingyu couldn’t be sure of the older man’s intentions, not at that moment or when they were still at school.

But you? You were like an open book, almost begging to be read. You obviously didn’t say a word, but your face showed how uncomfortable you were with the whole situation, how embarrassed you were for not remembering Mingyu as soon as you saw him.

Without you noticing, Mingyu spent a lot of time observing you. In a way, it was easy to know what you were thinking. Of course, a lot had changed in the years you hadn't seen each other, but many things were still the same.

“He won't tell anyone about your brother.”

Mingyu pushed Seokmin again, this time towards the elevator, and turned to you, who was holding the door, your gaze almost lost.

“It's okay.” you took a deep breath before straightening your spine and forcing a smile. “Eventually, everyone will know.”

He shook his head and put his hand on your shoulder, leaning his body forward slightly so his eyes were leveled with yours.

“You have my word,” he promised, voice low “Seokmin won't open his mouth. Your secret will still be a secret.”

You nodded, but Mingyu knew the gesture was just to make him leave faster.

“You should go,” you said before closing the door, without waiting for Mingyu's response.

If he could, he would suffocate Seokmin right there in the hallway, but then the security cameras would see him and that would become a problem. He entered the elevator in silence and pressed the button for the ground floor. Beside him, Seokmin was practically thrilled with the discovery he had made an hour ago.

“When you said you knew her from your old school, I would never have imagined that,” he said, laughing. “I thought she was a girl who went to the same school as you.”

Mingyu chose to remain silent. He expected Seokmin to eventually get tired and simply stop talking, but he should have known better. His friend had too much energy to simply stop. In fact, it was a surprise that he had managed to stay quiet for two hours before Jeonghan arrived. And even after he arrived, Seokmin had remained standing in the same place. He spoke faster than ever and looked at Jeonghan as if he were seeing a god in person, but still, standing in the same place.

God knew it was almost impossible to convince Seokmin to stay still for long.

“I don’t understand why she hides the fact that she’s his sister. It’s basically the nicest thing anyone can say. Imagine going around saying ‘my brother is Yoon Jeonghan’”

Mingyu sighed and crossed his arms and sighed, rolling his eyes. Of course, he would.

“Remember that time your sister complained that a girl tried to befriend her because she wanted to go out with you?”

“It happened a few times, actually.”

Mingyu stayed silent, waiting for all the dots to connect in Seokmin’s head without him having to actually say the words. Under normal circumstances, Seokmin would have understood and kept quiet, but he was too excited after meeting an idol god to realize the full context Mingyu was trying to give him.

“That happens to her all the time. She didn’t even go to the same school as us. She really does everything so no one knows she’s his sister. Didn’t you notice there’s no picture of them at home?”

Seokmin laughed, as if the question was too stupid, causing Mingyu to narrow his eyes.

“Dude, you’re the one who’s into her, not me. I don’t care about whose picture is in her house.”

Would anyone find it a problem if Mingyu strangled Seokmin until he passed out and then took him back home? In Mingyu’s eyes, he would be doing everyone around him a favor. It would be a night of silence and peace for everyone involved — in this case, just him, but no one needed to know about it.

“Either way, you can’t tell anyone about this,” he warned once more.

He had made a promise to you and he would rather cut off an arm than break it.

“Not even to the team?”

Mingyu scratched his head before crossing his arms again, with much more force than necessary. Finally, the elevator reached the ground floor and Seokmin was faster than Mingyu to get out, almost running down the hall to the gate.

Mingyu briefly greeted the doorman with a nod before following his friend.

“Especially to the team. No one can know. It's like a federal secret, you know?”

Mingyu grabbed Seokmin by the arm, making his friend stop and look at him. He hoped it would be enough for him to understand that he wasn't kidding, that it wasn't some kind of joke.

"Jeez, so much drama."

He got away from his friend and quickly opened the car door and got into the passenger seat.

Once again, Mingyu took a deep breath, his eyes closed. Maybe he shouldn't have promised you anything, not when the promise had nothing to do with him, and when there was a possibility of everything going wrong, then he would have to bear the burden of someone else's mistake.

"Seokmin," your voice was a warning tone. He opened the car door.

"I won't say anything!" his friend almost shouted.

"You're terrible at keeping secrets," he sighed, almost defeated.

"Nobody knows that you're actually super smart," Seokmin scoffed. "I never told on you, you know."

When you finally managed to get Mingyu and Seokmin to leave, you were beyond exhausted. It was late, already past 10 pm and you had to wake up early for class the next day. At least you would fall into bed without much trouble and you were sure that you would black out almost instantly. Except for the idea that from that moment on it was likely that the entire college would know who your brother was.

You always knew that this day would come, you just hoped it wouldn't be during college, a college that had a good hockey team — well, it was almost unfair, they were fantastic — and that lived and breathed the sport. If the news really needed to get out, you wanted it to happen when you were far away from there, in an environment where few people would like the sport. Of course, you were living off stereotypes, but you preferred to believe that you wouldn't have many colleagues who liked the sport, or that if they did, they would be indifferent.

With a sigh, you began to gather the materials that were scattered around the table, cleaning up the mess left behind. Seokmin wasn't wrong when he said that Mingyu was more skilled than expected. The prototype he made was delicate and almost perfect. Working with him wouldn't be complicated at all. With Seokmin too. He was more absent-minded, but he wasn't bad either. He could do the rough part of the work and you would refine it until it was perfect.

“Sis”

Jeonghan's voice sounded behind you and you chose not to answer. You were irritated with him for so many reasons that you didn't even know where to start, or what to say to him. You had made it explicitly clear why you didn't want him home. And, although he had never necessarily liked your reasons, Jeonghan had always respected you. If you said you didn't want something, he accepted it. But this time he had crossed all the limits.

“Sister” he tried again, this time a step closer to you.

You rested your hands on the table and leaned your body forward. 

“You know, I know that I live in your house, that you’re the one paying for my college, and that all the comfort I have here is because you pay for everything, so you can kind of do whatever you want. But this is my life.” 

You continued to put the things in the box and went to your room. You didn’t close the door because you knew Jeonghan would follow you. 

“I don’t understand what’s wrong with people knowing that I’m your brother.” 

You shook your head as you sat on the bed. He clearly didn’t understand, he never had, but he had always respected it. Apparently not anymore. 

“It’s not middle school anymore and you’re not 13 anymore. Just tell them all to go to hell,” he tried to reason, sitting in front of you. 

Jeonghan’s eyes were affectionate, without a hint of judgment. He just wanted to understand what was going on, because it was so important to you that people didn’t know.

“I didn’t change schools because girls were all over me because they wanted your number. I can’t say it didn’t affect my decision and it was the perfect excuse. But that wasn’t all.”

You didn’t know how to continue, didn’t know how to say everything without Jeonghan getting upset. Because you were sure he would.

“I didn’t want to be compared to you anymore.”

Your voice was almost a whisper and you didn’t dare look up, or in Jeonghan’s direction. You didn’t want to see the look of disappointment on his face, because you knew he would be disappointed. Not because you were feeling that way, but because you never told him anything.

“The teachers always talked about how smart you were, that despite sports you always got good grades. And I remember how you were back then, and you barely tried, but you were good at everything. I tried so hard and it was never enough.”

With each word that left your mouth, your voice got lower and weaker. When you said the words out loud, when they weren’t just cloistered in your mind anymore, they sounded almost pathetic. Jeonghan had never put any kind of pressure on you, quite the opposite. Your brother always made sure that you were you, an individual different from him.

All the ideas and traumas you had were not directly caused by Jeonghan but somehow had to do with him.

Jeonghan sighed loudly and leaned forward until he could hold your hand.

“Being good at school doesn’t mean anything, it’s just school. No one cares about it after a while.”

The laugh you let out was one of complete mockery. Jeonghan really had no idea what could be going through your head, the things that had happened and were still happening. Not that you blamed him for that, he had no way of knowing if you didn’t tell him what was going on, but part of you just wanted him to pay attention. If he paid attention, even the slightest bit, he would know.

The fact that he didn’t understand was painful.

If it were just the school teachers, it would be fine. Like he said, no one cares about school after a while. Do you know who cares about school, regardless of the moment? Parents. Parents who aren't necessarily bad, just parents who think that comparing one child to another is an excellent incentive. An incentive so good that they still do it.

Deep down you know that it's not out of malice, that it's not because they want to see you down, but it's an inevitable consequence. And, in a way, they were already so intrinsic in the conversations, little notes that didn't even seem like real comments, that you were sure that Jeonghan didn't even notice them.

"Okay," you said, just wanting to end the conversation. "I'll talk to both of them tomorrow, and apologize to Mingyu."

Jeonghan nodded, knowing full well that the conversation was over and that even if he pressed, he wouldn't be able to get anything else out of you.

"I have to leave early tomorrow," he said, "but if you want, can we have dinner together and talk about it?"

"I'll accept dinner, but I'll skip the talk."

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[miguelhugger2099]

Just a silly little request👉👈

Do u think fem!reader likes to wear crop top with no bra and Miguel's boxer. You two are just flirting and teasing each other until Miguel decided to toss the remote to reader for movie night and reflex, she tries to catch it reveal her tits and Miguel just "😳... Nice catch..." And smut if u want. Having his hands speezing them I'm going insane 😭😭

Just One Touch

a/n: this ask has been in my inbox for so long and ur not gonna believe what got me out of my month long stump to write this. everyone thank sir-mix-a-lot's song "ride" it possessed me and gave me energy. excuse the crappy writing, i'm still lowk having writers block so it's not my greatest work. please enjoy and as alwayssss i can rewrite this if you'd like <3 Art: mar_mar0u on instagram ! Unedited btw, plz dont crucify me ill die :(

It wasn’t unusual for you and Miguel to wind down after the sun had set. Movie night was a must, whether it was cheesy romcoms for you to sob to, horror movies for Miguel to be annoyed at, or even action movies to make fun of–as long as it was together. Still, Miguel teased you by holding the remote up above his head and out of your reach. He grins with one hand on his hip and watches you reach up with no progress in sight. “Give it!” You laugh, trying to keep your anger believable. “No, first you take my clothes and I know you’re gonna pick one of those creepy knock off animated movies.” He chuckles and he walks off. Due to the size difference, every step of his was three of yours–practically chasing after him. “Put respect on Over the Hedge’s name! It’s not even a knock off!” Miguel plops on the couch on one side with a huff of laughter. “Fine, fine. Here–take it!” He throws the remote above your head and you pause and stumble back.

You reach high up to grab the remote. “You asshole!” You laugh. The remote hits your fingertips and bounces a bit farther back. Your crop top rides and flows up as you lean back onto one foot to finally grasp the device in your hand.

Miguel could feel everything happen in slow motion. The small glimpse of your underboob before your nipples finally come into view. The grin on Miguel’s face slowly drops and he could feel drool slipping from his lips. He watched your boobs bounce, the roundness of your flesh and perky buds making his cheeks go red. He can’t help the disappointment in his face when your arms fall back down, shirt hiding the glorious view of your tits.

“Caught it!” You smirk at him triumphantly. His eyes continue to glance at your tits.  “Yeah, uh…” He gulps. “Nice catch.” He adjusts his shorts, hoping his growing bulge wasn’t too apparent.

You don’t notice, too engrossed in your victory and making Miguel speechless. So, you crawl in his lap, Miguel’s hands suspended in mid-air as you nestle yourself in his arms. You feel his muscles surround you like a warm comfortable blanket, leaning your back on his firm chest while you click the buttons to turn on the TV.

“So what are we picking this time?” You ask, flipping through random trailers to find what you’re looking for.

“Huh? Oh, uh, anything’s fine.” Miguel shrugs half-heartedly. He’s too focused looking down at your crop top. Slowly and gingerly, his fingers caress your stomach–light and feathery as if trying to be discreet.

“Yeah sure, whatever. Don’t complain if you don’t like it.” You laugh softly, clicking on a random movie that looked good enough.

“Mhm.” Miguel mumbles, not even hiding his disinterest in a damn movie right now. While your eyes are on the opening scene on the TV, Miguel’s eyebrows scrunch together, his lips into a tight line as he resists his urges.

He can’t help it though. He gets handsy, Miguel carefully caressing your stomach. You barely notice it since the two of you always get snuggled up like this.

You only notice when he hikes higher up, his hips shifting slightly while his fingers run up and down the valley of your tits. You smack his arm around your waist with the remote.

“What are you doing?” You ask, trying to sound annoyed but the smile seeps through your tone.

“Nuthin’” He murmurs. Miguel then feels the curve of your breast, his fingers itching for a squeeze.

“We’re supposed to be bonding.” You move to turn your head up at him. You try to meet his eyes but he stays glued downwards to your chest.

“We are.” Miguel insists, his lips slightly parted. His thumb swipes across your nipple and you gasp, feeling your cheeks burn. He can feel the nub perk up and his tongue darts out to lick his lips, biting his bottom lip to hide the satisfied smile on his face.

Miguel takes his chances, bending down to kiss along your neck, tugging you closer to him and making you melt. His body moves against yours and your eyes flutter shut. His mouth gently sucks and licks your skin and you shiver. Miguel grabs your left tit, the plump flesh squeezed in his palm. His fingers flick your nipple, circling around before gently twisting it.

You back arches and you moan. “Ah–fuck, Miguel!” You hissed, a burning heat crawling up your neck. Your hand lifts up to curl in his hair while he attacks your neck, his other hand running down to his boxers you were wearing. He slips his fingers in the front hole of the boxers, using his index and middle fingers to spread your folds apart. You feel him nip your neck with a smile as he smears your slick around your clit.

He then uses both of his hands to lift your shirt up and over your head. Your breasts are now out in the open, the cool air hitting your chest and making your nipples hard. You barely get a word out, Miguel already cupping your boobs and squeezes them. Your hips buck back to grind on his crotch, eyes closing as he plays with you. Miguel used his fingers to tease your nipples simultaneously, flicking and tweaking them. He lifts them up and watches them fall down before squeezing them again. Your pussy is soaking through his boxers, aching for more stimulation that’s making you feel empty.

His eyes are dark watching his own hands play with your chest, the memory of the bounce of your tits as you caught the remote high in the air. He wanted to see that again.

Miguel could feel his cock swell and twitch along with each bounce of your breasts. You have your body arching, hands behind you and holding onto his thighs. He plays with your tits switching with his hands or his mouth–but if you asked him, he preferred sucking on them. So that’s where he was now, lips attached to your right nipple and his right hand playing with your left. You slammed down on his cock, whining since you barely felt him thrust up. But in all honesty, Miguel could do this forever with your tits in his mouth and his cock buried in your cunt. While his tongue sucked and lipped your nipple, he knew if he didn’t focus, he’d cum instantly. He looks up at you after playfully biting down on your nub, your squeaks making his dick twitch against your walls. You look down with glossy eyes, hips stuttering and pussy throbbing when you see him smirk up at you with your boob in his mouth. One of his hands that was on your waist comes up to your back to keep your body arched. Miguel scrunches his eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed while he sucks on your nipple, his hips jerking and balls slapping against your ass. You wail with each thrust, falling forward and holding onto the backrest making your boobs squish in his face. Miguel groans as he lets you fall on top of him, hands falling down to your ass as you grind on him. His cock slips in and out of your wet cunt with a wet squelch. It makes you bite your lip with a loud whimper, the action making your man under you tug on your nipple with his teeth. He’s obsessed with you, Miguel pulling away just enough to make your tits swing in his face. He glances up at your pleasure filled face, sweat glistening down your face and body while you panted and whined. He’s entranced, eyes falling down to follow the way your boobs bounce as he fucks up into you. Miguel trusts you to keep fucking yourself on his while his hands leave your ass to come up and cup and squeeze both your breasts. He kneads them and watches your mouth drop open to moan. Your head hangs and your foreheads almost touch. Miguel doesn’t need to tell you a damn thing, his lips parted while he looks at yours. You lean down to kiss him, Miguel immediately slipping his tongue past your defenses with a low groan. He continues groping you, his hips smacking up with your thrusting and he can feel himself about to cum. He can tell you’re about to too by the way your pussy spasms wildly, sucking him in deeper and soaking him in your slick.

So he hammers into you, grunting as he puts all his strength in making you cream. Your eyes roll back, mouth separating from his to dig your nails into his shoulders and roll your hips. You can barely get a word out, garbled moans of his name escaping you while your body twitches, ecstasy flowing through from top to bottom. Miguel watches your chest heave as you catch your breath, your juices dripping out of your a making a sticky mess in his lap. You’re dizzy and weak, body flopping forward on his chest. Miguel soothes you, curling his hand in your hair and pressing you into the crook of his neck. He kisses the top of your head and you’re too numb to feel him take your body off him. He places your back down on the couch, hair sticking to your face with sweat, lips plumped from kissing. You’re whining when your sensitive folds feel his still hard cock rub in between them, accidentally slipping his tip in a few times. You swallow to get the dryness out of your throat. “Mig…Mig…” You’re cut off when Miguel slams into you, your body jerking and tits bouncing with the hard thrust. Your hazy vision rolls onto his face, Miguel glued onto your chest still. He gives another few soft thrusts and watches your boobs jiggle around. You feel his cock jump inside your walls, a soft hum of approval coming from deep in his throat. He bends down, biting and licking the side of your tit to add another mark to his collection. His teeth marks littered around your plump and round flesh–his favorites being the ones around your areola.

His face is buried in your breasts while he pounds into you, your head thrown back and legs locked around his waist. Oh, he’s in heaven.

[soobnny]

dating him | kim seungmin

❝ kiss me first ❞

chan | lee know | changbin | hyunjin | han | felix | SEUNGMIN | jeongin

best friends to lovers type beat

it HAS to be

like seungmin doesn’t give me eager for love

i don’t think he’s ever rly prioritized it

that’s why it’s essential that this is a best friends to lovers love story

bc he would’ve had to fall in love in between the silence of friends

there isn’t even a light bulb moment

more of an “oh” moment really

like oh, i’ve fallen in love with my best friend

bc i think it takes A LOT for this boy to add romance in his life

he strikes me as the type that prioritizes his comfort and his routine

so he doesn’t fall in love easily

but turns out, he’s not so immune after all

seungmin has sudden urges to kiss u too

like woah 😂😂😂 let’s check the label first 😂😂😂😂

YEAH. BEST FRIENDS.

he couldn’t take it any longer tho

he asks u out and long story short

he’s ur boyfriend now

he doesn’t rly change much

seungmin is still a menace

this time he just gets to kiss you

he’s always comparing hand size with u

size kink much ?!!??

teases u bc ur hand is smaller than felix’s

and that boy’s hand … miniature

tbh i think it’s just an excuse to hold ur hand

but once he shows u his palms, u already know what’s up

either hold his hand or COMPARE

is 100% the type to hold ur hand in the pocket of his hoodie btw

his face is nonchalant the whole time

he does it when he notices ur hands r a little cold and trembling

it’s his attempt to warm ur hand up

i think his face is nonchalant bc it’s just natural to him

like he doesn’t think anything of it .. just him helping his partner so they don’t suffer

his favorite date with u would be karaoke dates

u know how in korea, they have karaokes where u can challenge other rooms

yeah u do that a lot

and when u start losing, u just whip out ur secret weapon

aka kim seungmin

what can u say

it’s all about winning

and u are a sore loser

seungmin ofc ends up winning it for u guys so u always get free food bc that’s the wager yall always bet on

he always lets u decide which food too

and if u rlly like the snack u’re betting on, he tries extra hard

(here’s a secret: he thinks of u when he sings love songs so that extra bit of emotion he uses while singing ? lowkey u’re still the reason u guys won)

another favorite date of seungmin’s is visiting dog shelters

you two have successfully named all the dogs in ur local dog shelter

u’d just visit from time to time to check on them and play with them

“hi fang!!!!! where’s ur sister and ur mother!!!! how about berry 2.0 and kkami wannabe!!!!”

eventually, you guys do adopt ur own puppy

he gets jealous at first bc now ur attention is divided

but then HIS attention gets divided

i think u two would be good dog parents

he would activate the puppy’s playful side

you’d swoop in when ur puppy is tired and u just wanna give them love and cuddles

he likes it when u refer to urselves as the parents of ur dog

also loves talking in 3rd person like “mom is mad at me today” to ur puppy

anyways moving on

his love language is for sure acts of service

would fold ur laundry for u

would do ur most hatest chore

he’d make u coffee the way u like in the morning

and it’s all just instinct to him again

like he just DOES it without being told to

HOWEVER

however ….

listen to me

if you ask him to do something for u

kim “kiss first” seungmin spawns

“seungmin, can you reach this for me?”

“kiss me first”

“seungmin, do u know where my shoes are?”

“kiss me first”

like DAMNNNNN taking advantage of the moment, i see

he enjoys it so much

he’d have his lips puckered, knees bent a little to ur height, and he waits

bc he knows u always do it

btw i think he has a secret instagram just full of photos of you ☹️☹️☹️☹️

he’d tell u he has a photography acc

little do u know, it’s just you all over

is that why he loves to bring his camera around in dates ?!?

unlimited supply of his hoodies #2

but unlike chan, he acts like it bothers him

he just likes riling u up

another way he riles up up is whispering dirty things to u in public bc he’s just a little shit like that

would be the type to say “make me”

and also “prove it”

likeeeeee…

have fun with that thought!

third favorite date is driving around

with his arm around your car seat or rested on your thigh 😊😊😊😊😊

i’m totally sane rn

is not above doing things in his car

u didn’t hear it from me

another hot thing he does are slight squeezes on ur thigh or tapping it to the beat of the music

UGHHGHHNGYNFNFNBGBBGBG

btw when U get to fluster him

he suddenly hugs u

and u’re like ?!!????

u try to look up at him but he presses ur face on his chest, his hand on the back of your head

it’s so u don’t see how red his face is

OR HIS EARS

so if he suddenly hugs u for no reason

you already know why

anyways

whatever

u two are each other’s biggest supporters

bc before u were together, u were best friends already

he knows u like the back of his hand

despite being a little shit, u know he’s in love with you

bc u hear him whisper it when he thinks u’re asleep

and he lets it slip out a lot when he’s tired or when he’s a little tipsy

and he holds u while u sleep and kisses you and comforts u

he rly does love u a lot and cares for u

sometimes i think u’d have arguments just bc he cares about u too much

like u could’ve put ur health at risk

and he isn’t all about that

anyways seungmin doesn’t need to be grand and showy about it for u to know

sometimes, all that matters is what happens behind the scenes

seungmin best boy

note. credits to user @.luvknow for the layout of this post! let me know what you think! please discuss these with me i’m crazy

[heesdreamer]

Forgotten Consequences

PAIRING ➩ jake x reader (bsfs little brother au)

SUMMARY ➩ Your bestfriends little brother comes back from Australia and catches your attention despite knowing the consequences

WARNINGS ➩ ages aren’t specified but reader is a few years older than Jake and considers him “barely an adult”, RLLY ROUGH SM*T, like no joke it’s rough be warned, consent is there even though reader says no (she def wants it!), d*ddy is used sorry lol… this is straight up p*rn so there’s your warning. Jake is rough and borders obsessive

WC ➩ 5.7k

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ Not exactly pleased my return to the writing world is basically PWP lol but here it is… there’s a larger story here I’m considering writing so lmk if you’re interested. Sorry to keep you guys missing me, take this as an apology piece

“Your brother is a lot taller than I remember him being Chaeyoung.”

You briefly glanced over to the side once you heard Lily’s voice start to whisper, seeing her leaning into the other girls side as she tried to be as discreet as possible.

Both of them were staring out at something in the yard and you followed their gaze until you landed on Jake standing in the corner, picking up something off of the snack table and looking as bored as you felt at this ridiculous party.

“If you hook up with my little brother I’ll actually kill you.” Chaeyoung’s voice was flat and deadly serious but her face didn’t show any actual signs of caring about the conversation, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her drink before looking away and letting Lily lay on her shoulder.

Your eyebrow raised slightly at the interaction before your gaze was floating back over to the boy instinctively.

He hadn’t been home from the dance school in Australia long and this was only your second time seeing him since. You’d grown up together but you’d never paid him much mind outside of when Chaeyoung gave him funny makeovers and made him dance to girl group songs with you and your friends. Other than that he wasn’t necessarily somebody on your radar.

It was impossible to not notice the difference in him now.

Mainly the fact he was almost double the size he had been when he left, clearly hitting puberty now and apparently the gym considering how large his shoulders looked underneath the washed out black hoodie he was wearing.

He’d obviously gotten a new sense of style in his time away too and it was one that you were almost annoyingly attracted to. His hair was longer and stuck in his face most the time, earbuds peaking out from behind the dark strands whenever he pushed it back with his large hand and you could’ve sworn you’d posted the shoes he was currently wearing on your Instagram story a few months ago.

You watched him as he started to make his way back inside, completely ignoring the party going on around him and not even sparing a glance at the people in his backyard and living room.

When he was younger, he always wanted to be involved, especially when it had to do with Chaeyoung and your friends. You remember seeing her send him back up to his room dozens of times when he tried to hang out with you guys, always greeting you and the others enthusiastically.

A frown was forming on your face at his indifferent attitude before you were glancing back at your friends, glad to see they were lost in their own conversation and not noticing the way your eyes had been locked on your bestfriends little brother for the better part of the last ten minutes.

They were so distracted that they also didn’t notice the way you were scooting off of the outdoor bench, adjusting your skirt and balancing yourself slightly before you were heading inside and following the path you’d seen the younger boy taking. You were a bit thrown off when you entered the house again, the atmosphere a lot more intense and dizzying than the outside partygoers had been.

But you knew Jake wouldn’t have stuck around this type of environment long so you pushed your way through the crowd and continued on your way upstairs to where you knew he’d be, raising your fist and knocking on his door before you thought twice about it.

You froze up slightly at the speed in which he swung open his bedroom door, a heavy glare set on his face and you could hear music coming from deeper in the room, having seemingly abandoned his headphones. His eyes widened for just a second when he realized it was you in the hallway before he was forcing on an expression of indifference.

“Y/N? Whats up?” He was asking but his tone was lazy like he didn’t care, luckily you knew better and could clearly read the curiosity in his eyes.

You ignored his question and pushed into the room, taking a deep breath once inside before turning towards him with a raised eyebrow. He was sighing and closing the door behind you, leaning against it for a second once he realized what your expression was directed towards.

“You smoke?” You were finally speaking and he tensed at the sound of your voice, looking way more intimidating with the way he was lazily leaned against his door and accidentally trapping you inside the room. You took a seat on his bed and watched him curiously, waiting for an answer.

You didn’t necessarily need one considering you were now noticing how lazy his eyes were, gaze low and hazy as he stared at you sitting on his bed and the corner of his lips turned up into a half smirk at your stern voice and scolding demeanor.

“You gonna tell on me Y/N?” His tone was teasing now and you kept watching him as he pushed off the door, crossing the room until he was flopping back into his bed.

Luckily he kept some distance between the two of you, sitting up so his back was propped up on his headboard and his knee was pointed towards the ceiling. You were still sitting on the edge of his bed but you turned your body so you could face him better, adjusting your skirt with the movement. You took one final glance towards the door, eyes falling down to the turned lock on the knob.

“I’m sure I could be convinced to not tell.” You were responding to him slowly, keeping your voice light so he knew you weren’t serious. His eyes darkened a touch but you continued on with your light teasing. “Maybe if you were open to sharing.”

You weren’t exactly sure how you ended up in Jake Sim’s bedroom smoking weed with him, sitting fully on his bed now with your legs crossed underneath you and grazing fingers every time he passed the bowl over in your direction.

You kept picturing Chaeyoung walking into the room, seeing the way you were looking at him every time he was breathing smoke outwards into the air. You wondered if she’d care, wondered if she’d realize where your mind had gone and then you’d shift on the bed and feel the tension in the room and know there was no way she wouldn’t suffocate in it.

He was watching you now in a way that you knew was past the line of friendly, miles past the line of being your bestfriends younger brother, and for the first time since entering his room you got nervous. So nervous that you inhaled wrong and the smoke traveled to a tighter part of your chest, sending you lurching forward in a rough cough as you patted your torso a couple times to try and clear your airways.

Jake was chuckling at your amateurish smoking skills and you sent him a glare as another cough ripped through you, moving your hand to send a soft punch towards his knee for his teasing.

“Wanna know a better way to get the smoke down?” His voice was low, lower than it already was and you remember being frozen the first time you heard him speak when he originally got back, deep and silky as he muttered a halfhearted greeting in your direction.

You gave him a curious look even though you already had an idea of where this was heading, wondering how far he was planning to take this. You only responded with a soft nod now that your coughs had died down and left your throat with a burning sensation, worsening when a gasp ripped through you at the feeling of him wrapping his hands underneath your knees and tugging you closer on the bed.

He moved you completely effortlessly and your eyes were wide and panicked, still sitting with your legs crossed but now you were directly in front of him and your knees were bumping into one of his, his other leg stretch out along your side and effectively forming a cage around you.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Your warning was coming out far less stern than you’d hoped it would, voice weak and almost teasing again despite how serious you were.

His eyebrow cocked at this and you immediately knew it was the wrong thing to say considering the challenging glint forming in his eye now. He was swaying forward so his face was close to yours, way too close considering you felt his nose graze you for just a second before he was pulling back so he could stare down at your tense features.

“Keep your mouth open.” He was speaking suddenly and you could feel his breath on your lips, his tone light but commanding enough that for some reason you were immediately nodding your head and parting your lips for him.

He wasn’t wasting any time, sitting up enough so he could light the bowl once more and inhale it deep, holding it there in his chest easily for a few seconds before he was leaning forward and pressing his lips against yours. It wasn’t a kiss but it was enough for your eyes to flutter closed, leaning forward to press tighter against him but still not enough to feel his mouth completely on yours.

It was completely sensual, the way he was breathing out the smoke into your mouth from his own, almost suffocating as you inhaled a shaky breath softly and swayed further against him to try to avoid letting it escape.

“Breathe it in.” He was directing you again now that the smoke was out of his mouth and inside yours, not bothering to lean back and give you space as he started to speak and you could feel his lip brushing against yours for just a second. “C‘mon hold it for me. You can take it deeper than that.”

Your eyes were widening in surprise at his suggestive words, letting the smoke out before you were planning to and sitting up straight to try and put some distance between the two of you. He didn’t seem bothered at all by your reaction and for a second you wondered if you had just misheard him, let your own guilty thoughts and insecurities take his words to mean something besides smoking.

It didn’t help that your stomach was flipping with want now, face reddening and getting warmer as you replayed what he had said in your mind.

“Do it again.” You were requesting it in a whisper and you weren’t exactly sure what you were asking for, judging yourself for secretly hoping he’d repeat his innuendo laced words so you could hear it in his voice again. Instead he was grabbing the bowl and placing it between the two of you, lighting it again and inhaling.

You didn’t have too much time to be disappointed considering he was immediately lowering it and connecting your lips again, not even giving you time to open your mouth to collect the smoke.

He seemed to take matters into his own hands and you felt his tongue pressing against your sealed lips, prying them open so he could tilt his head and funnel the smoke into your throat. For a second you were chasing after his tongue with your own, nearly kissing him fully in a deeper lust fueled high, but he was cupping your jaw briefly and closing your mouth so you were forced to breathe in the smoke.

It was settling deep in your chest and this time you held it for him, looking up at him slightly through your eyelashes with watery eyes and he had a more satisfied expression on his face now that you were listening to him.

“Good girl.” He was humming out the word casually but your mouth parted in surprise, legs instinctively clenching together as you let the smoke filter back out and hit his face instead. The smirk on his face told you that he had definitely noticed your reaction and you were starting to lose all feelings of guilt and hesitation, being replaced with something much more terrible.

Something so intense that you couldn’t stop yourself from rocking forward and pressing your lips against his fully.

He thankfully was immediately reciprocating and you tried not to think about where he learned to kiss this intensely, hands coming up to cup your face and keep you locked against him as you moved together. You’d rocked forward so far that you nearly knocked him over back against the bed, leaning over his lap now as you desperately kissed him deeper and deeper.

It took for his hand sliding down your back, attempting to pull you fully onto his awaiting lap, for you to snap out of it and sit up straight with a small gasp.

Your hand was reaching up to touch your lips and you tried to ignore the fact they were wet from his mouth, looking at him and scanning from his confused eyes down to his own swollen lips that most likely mirrored the state of your own. Your body was lit up with need and it didn’t help that he was still touching you, hand resting on your lower back like he was waiting for you to kiss him again.

“We can’t do this.” You were telling him sternly in a panicked voice, shaking your head desperately to try and make sure he understood and that your point was getting across to him.

His hand was sliding down lower and roughly squeezing, resting on the curve of your ass and sending your hips forward and more onto his. A soft gasp was slipping from your mouth, followed by a breathy whine at the feeling of him hardening and pressing against your front, even more unbearable considering he wasn’t moving his hand and was instead softly groping your behind and rocking you against him.

“But we’re going to.” He was responding to your rejection in a casual tone, sounding more confident than he was pushy and you let out another soft whine as you gave him a bewildered look. “You followed me up here, you came into my room in this tiny little skirt and climbed into my bed because you wanted me to fuck you.”

You were instinctively shaking your head in panicked denial but your hands were going to his shoulders, pulling yourself forward onto his lap fully and mewling softly at the feeling of him completely pressing against you.

He didn’t say anything else as you started to desperately move against him, your head falling forward and landing in the crook of his neck as you lifted yourself up and down slowly so you could feel him under you at every possible angle. His large hands were holding you roughly and lifting you every time you struggled, pushing your skirt up further on your hips so he could feel your bare skin and lace panties.

“Fuck fuck.” You were panting out into his neck and arching your back into him, a shiver rolling down your spine when he was harshly tugging at your underwear so it was pressed painfully against your sensitive clit.

“God, do you always get this wet?” He was finally started to sound affected and you let out an embarrassed sob at his words, hand sliding up the back of his neck until it was tangled in his long hair. You imagined you were already a mess considering how desperate you were feeling, an overwhelming heat mixing with your high and stopping you from thinking about anything other than Jake.

“Let me fuck you baby, let daddy fix this.” He was talking so sweetly in your ear in his low voice.

You were shaking your head again but you already knew your resolve was falling apart, feeling nearly inhuman with how much you longed to be full of something, especially if it was him. You were aching in your panties and the forbidden image of your best friends little brother stuffing you and making the ache go away was nearly making you drool.

“How old are you Jae?” You were gasping out and lifting your head out of his neck to look at his face clearly, fearing his response and knowing you had a right to the fear considering for the first time his eyes flashed with guilt and worry. You were quickly doing the math in your head and gasping again, sitting up even more and stopping your rocking against him. “Oh my god you’re barely legal.”

He suddenly looked really annoyed and you felt bad for getting this far with him, knowing you had no choice but to stop what you were doing and reject the boy before anything more happened.

Messing around with your best friends brother was one thing but doing it while he was just barely an official adult was too much for your conscience, even if you weren’t that much older than him.

He seemed to have a totally different idea than you considering he was scoffing in annoyance before he was pausing and then flipping you completely over, ripping a shriek from you as your back unexpectedly hit the bed and he was left hovering over you. You froze up in shock as he impatiently undid the buttons on your skirt that was still pushed up on your waist, tugging it down and tossing it somewhere across the room.

“Don’t act like you care about how old I am.” He was barely looking at you as he spoke with anger lacing his voice, looking at your nearly bare bottom half for a few seconds before he was glancing up at you to check for your reaction. “Let me eat your pussy.”

You were letting out a loud laugh of disbelief, lacking any humor as you clamped your thighs shut and shook your head. “I mean it Jake, we can’t do this. It’s wrong.”

His large hands were squeezing your ankles for a second before sliding up your legs softly, your breath getting shakier as he reached your knees and slowly separated your legs. You both could tell you weren’t actually showing any attempt to stop him, not even putting up a fight as he lowered his face closer to your core and you could feel his breath over the wet spot covering your panties.

“It’s wrong that you want my tongue so bad your thighs are soaked.” He was talking in between the kisses he was laying on your skin, getting closer and closer to the thin fabric separating you and the point of no return. “Would be wrong to let you leave my room without my cum in your stomach.”

“Please, you need to stop.” You were breathing it out in a moan once he finally was placing a kiss over your covered core, softly running his tongue along your wetness and humming softly. The vibrations went straight to your clit and your hips rolled off the bed, pushing his face straight against you. “Oh fuck.”

He let out something that sounded almost like a growl before he was pushing your panties to the side and diving into your wet folds, wasting no time in sticking his tongue as deep as he possibly could get it and ignoring the way you nearly screamed and tried to close your legs around his head. He used his free hand to aggressively slam your knee back against the bed, opening you up completely for him and practically making out with your cunt.

It was completely lewd and disgusting, the wet noises filling the room as he ate you out with a level of expertise that almost made your stomach turn with curiosity if it wasn’t for how good he was making you feel.

Your hand was going to his hair to pull him out of your core but plans changed when he was sucking your clit into his mouth softly, instead keeping him locked in place with his long strands between your fingers. He abandoned your sensitive bud to go back to trying to stick his tongue as deep inside you as he could, turning his head so he was pushing into your tight hole and he moaned against you, the vibration nearly pulling another scream from you.

“Please Jake, oh my god please.” You almost thought you were begging for him to stop but you both knew you weren’t, lifting your hips up every time he tried to take a breath in an attempt to keep him buried in your cunt as long as possible.

“Wanna cum on my tongue or my cock baby?” He was lifting his head up to question you and you were thrown off by how easily it rolled off his tongue, how confident he seemed to be in being able to fuck you properly and make you cum with no question. You rarely came from hookups and definitely left unsatisfied more often than not but something about the glare in his eyes made you believe him.

You were apparently taking too long to answer considering he was climbing back on top of you and adjusting you slightly, moving your body like it weighed nothing.

“Don’t know how long I’ve wanted you like this Y/N. Going to show you what a real man feels like inside this slutty little hole.” He was reaching down and rubbing his fingers against you for emphasis, smirking when you let out a shaky breath and your stomach clenched. “Beg for daddy to fuck you baby, let everyone hear how much you want me.”

You were shaking your head and letting out an actual sob now, tears heavy as they rolled down your face and landed on the bed underneath you. He looked completely unaffected by your emotional reaction to the humiliation and pure want you felt for him.

It didn’t matter what he said now and it didn’t matter even if his sister walked into the room and saw him on top of you like this, you’d realized from the second you entered the room that you’d let him do anything to you that he wanted and that fact drove you absolutely insane with guilt and embarrassment. He seemed to know it as much as you did considering he was silent and patient as he waited for you to get ahold of yourself, knowing you’d end up begging for him regardless.

“Please Jake I need you so bad, need you to fuck me baby please.” You were pleading with him through a sob, grabbing onto his shoulders and trying to lift your hips to meet his and show him how desperate you were.

His eyes darkened the more you spoke and for the first time since entering his room you felt genuinely anxious, letting out a cry as he swiftly moved his hand up so it was pressing on your throat and restricting your breathing. Your eyes widened at his sudden aggression even though you were beginning to understand your mistake.

“Say it again and say it right or I’ll throw you out of my room with nothing but your dripping cunt.” He was leaning down to spit the words into your ear and you let out an embarrassing whine, another rush of heat running through you. “You like that huh… like when I get rough with you?”

You were nodding the best you could with his hand around your throat, the sting of the pressure making more wetness rush out of you as complete desperation took over your mind and left you feeling dizzy and out of it. Out of it enough that your tongue was hanging out of your mouth before you realized it, mouth opening as you stared up at him with watering eyes and heavy eyelashes.

He let off some of the tension around your throat just enough for you to be able to speak in a weak voice.

“Please daddy please give me your spit, I’ll be a good girl I promise.” You were practically sobbing as you begged him and his eyes were basically darkened to pitch black at this point, staring down at you with a hunger you’d never experienced from someone before. “Can do whatever you want to me, I’ll take it.”

Jake aggressively gripped your jaw and tugged your head closer towards his, waiting until you were eagerly sticking your tongue back out for him so he could spit roughly into your mouth. Before you got a chance to swallow it he was chasing after his spit with his own tongue, licking against yours until he was practically in your throat. You hummed softly and bobbed your head so he was even deeper, wanting him inside you in every way humanly possible.

“God you’ve gotta let me fuck you now or I’m going to hurt you.” He was pulling back to speak through gritted teeth, nearly looking pained as he was roughly sitting you up and tugging off the sweater you’d been wearing, leaving you completely bare outside of your panties that were beyond stretched from the way he was holding them.

“Hurt me.” You were begging him for it before you even processed that you wanted it, the imagine of him holding you down and shoving himself so deep inside you that you couldn’t handle the stretch making your stomach tighten with want. “Please Jake hurt me.”

“Don’t even know what you’re fucking begging for, you’re such a slut you don’t even care how I fuck you.” He sounded so angry but you knew he was just as affected as you, tugging you up and back into his lap so you were straddling him again. He sucked one of your nipples into his mouth for just a second before he was letting it go to speak again. “Wanna drag you down to that packed living room and take you in front for everyone there, let everyone watch me stuff you so deep your stomachs bulging.”

You were dizzy now, almost worried you were going to pass out from how overwhelmed you were and he’d barely even touched you so far.

You were desperately rolling your hips into his again and he was surprisingly letting you, guiding you as you bounced in his lap and practically rode him despite the fact he was still fully clothed. The image of you, bouncing on his hard on while practically naked and dripping down your thighs compared to him being fully dressed and composed made you feel even dizzier and you found yourself longing for what he was describing.

“Gonna make me feel so full daddy please, I’m sorry.” You could feel his hardness pressing against you every time you bounced and you were so turned on you couldn’t even find the time to be embarrassed you were probably soaking the fabric of his pants, the time to be humiliated you were calling a boy younger than you daddy.

“Should be fucking sorry.” He was growling out the words again and flipping you over easily so your stomach was on the bed instead, lifting you up by your hips so your ass was perfectly presented for him.

He didn’t hesitate before he was sending a sharp smack to your bare skin, immediately ripping a pained yelp from you that faded off into a desperate whine. You were adjusting yourself so you were pushing your ass towards him more and silently communicating you wanted him to hit you again, sobbing into his bed and pressing your face into the blanket to try to muffle the sounds of your cries.

Thankfully, he was understanding and roughly hitting you again. You knew he wasn’t using his full strength considering how strong he was but he definitely wasn’t going easy on you and you could feel yourself leaking even more at the pain.

“Tell me you’re sorry for never looking my way when I was a kid.” His words were barely being processed by you since you were so dizzy but you cried harder at the sound of his deep voice commanding you. “Sorry for being such a fucking slut but never giving me the chance to fill this pussy up.”

“Only want you to fill me please.” You were being immeasurably too loud but you didn’t even slightly care, completely serious in your desires for him to be inside you no matter who was watching. “M so sorry Jae please, please.”

You could hear the sound of his belt coming undone behind you and you nearly cried with relief, adjusting even more so you were completely presenting your ass and core to him. You wanted him to see how much you belonged to him so he’d have no choice but to fuck you.

He must’ve finished undressing his lower half because you could feel him pressing against you and your back arched at the realization his skin was pressing against yours, a loud whine sounding through the room when you felt his bare cock rubbing against your folds and thighs experimentally. You pushed against him harder and he reached up to squeeze the fat around your hips roughly in annoyance, a silent warning as he groaned softly.

“Gonna stuff you now and you’re going to lay here and take it.” He was grunting as he spoke and you sucked in a sharp breath when the head of his cock caught on your hole, pushing in just enough for you to realize he was a lot thicker than you’d prepared for. “Fuck you’re so tight, I’m going to end up in your stomach.”

You arched at his words and whined into his blankets, pushing your hips back against his so he was going deeper inside you. The stretch was knocking the air out of your chest but you nearly cried with how full he was going to make you feel.

“Please daddy please, I’ll be such a good girl for you I promise.” You were pathetically pleading with him and you knew for a fact that if anybody had drunkenly wondered upstairs they could definitely hear you, but you didn’t care about anything other than him in this moment and he was driving you crazy with how slow he was pushing into you.

He was finally losing his control and fucking himself deep inside of you in one go, bottoming out as you both took deep breaths and tried not to lose it before you’d even started.

The sound of him groaning above you was making you even more needy and you were overwhelmed with how much you wanted to keep hearing him make sounds like that, instinctively clenching around his length and feeling the way he was throbbing deep inside you.

You were basically sobbing with pleasure just from his first stroke into you when he pulled out completely, your body reacting intensely to the emptiness as you immediately looked over your shoulder and prepared to beg for him to fuck you again, stopping mid sentence when he was turning you back over on your back so you were able to see him again.

He was slamming himself back into you before you even adjusted to the position and he felt ten times deeper now, a pained grunt falling from your lips as he started to finally actually fuck you.

“Fuck you’re so fucking tight Y/N. I thought you were a whore but you feel brand new for me baby.” His facial expression as he spoke through gritted teeth and continued to thrust into you made you dizzy and you desperately reached out to hold his arms to try and ground yourself.

“Just for y-you Jake, only wanna be this full with you.” You were practically delirious as you cried and spoke to him but your words seemed to turn him on more considering he was slamming into you harder, clearly enjoying the level of ownership you were voicing towards him.

You didn’t want to internalize any of the things he said about you not paying attention to him before, knowing if you stopped and considered what he was implying you’d not be able to go through with this.

He was skilled at distracting you considering he was reaching forward to aggressively grab at your wrist, placing your hand against your stomach and pressing down so harshly you grunted in upset as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The lack of understanding didn’t last long considering it took only two more rolls of his hips inside you for you to feel what he was intending, your stomach bulging slightly from his size forcing itself deeper.

“Feel that?” He was rasping and you looked up to meet his gaze for the first time since he entered you, taken back by how dark and deadly his eyes were. “You’re mine now.”

You were nodding quickly in confirmation, not because you agreed with what he was saying necessarily but because of the wave of fear you felt seeing how serious and cold his expression was.

He had managed to already get you shockingly close between the foreplay and rough manhandling and it wasn’t long before you were feeling the familiar tightness in your stomach, only worsening when he was leaning down and catching your mouth in the sloppiest kiss of the night. It was bordering painful and filthy, exactly what you needed to distract you from how wrong this was and exactly what you needed to have you finishing around his length with a sharp inhale into his mouth.

You wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him kissing you even after you’d came, letting him know it was okay to keep fucking himself deeper inside you.

It was just enough to help you forget everything outside of the feeling of him on top of you and you felt drunk with how much you wanted to stay in this moment. You were terrified by how much he seemed worth the consequences when you had him like this, how much you wanted him even when the door was swinging open and a loud shriek was coming from the hallway.

[lihhelsing]

steddie | 1.6k | mature | angst

cw: mentions of parental abuse (verbal)

written for @steddieangstyaugust day 21

Prompt: Please

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The second Eddie steps into the kitchen, he knows something is wrong. 

Steve always says he doesn't mind doing the dishes and Eddie has given up on arguing with him about it long ago.

He watches as his boyfriend stands in front of the sink. On any day, he would find Steve whistling to some pop song, swaying his hips to whatever rhythm he has in his head as he soaps up their dishes. 

He's usually happy when he does it. Tells Eddie it always helps. And Eddie can't quite put his finger on what's wrong but he's definitely not happy. 

Eddie walks up to him slowly, and once he's a little closer he can see Steve's shoulders shaking. It's barely there and Eddie is unsure what to do, but when he reaches his hand and touches Steve, he knows that's the wrong choice.

Steve recoils, dropping whatever he was holding in his hand with a loud noise inside the sink and Eddie pulls back.

He's not sure what's happening, but he doesn't like it one bit. 

"Hey, hey. Steve. Look at me. What's wrong baby? 

Steve turns to him and his face is red and wet from the tears spilling down. Eddie feels his inside twisting, and his mind goes straight to Dustin and the kids. 

Something happened to them, and somehow Steve knows it and-

"P-please," Steve says, so fucking small. "Please, don't be mad."

Eddie frowns, his brain scrambling to catch up. 

"Why would I be mad?" 

At first, it seems like Steve's not going to say anything but then he moves to the side and Eddie sees the sink. 

The sink is a mess. And Steve is usually a neat guy so it takes Eddie one second to adjust. And then, he sees the blood.

It's not a lot of blood, but it's definitely blood. Eddie tries not to freak out because he knows it'll only make it worse

"What happened, sweetheart?" Usually, Steve loves when Eddie uses pet names, but today? Today he almost folds in on himself.

"I broke a-a mug," Steve says and Eddie has to hold himself together, afraid of hurting his feelings with the tiniest reaction.

"That's... ok," Eddie says, hoping that's the right answer. Steve doesn't relax but he also doesn't get worse, so he counts that as a win.

"No, Eddie. I broke a mug. And it's your favorite," Steve says and Eddie nods softly.

"Is it the Garfield one?" Eddie asks and Steve's eyes widen. He nods, doesn't meet his eyes. 

Eddie actually dislikes that mug. It was his father's and he felt obliged to keep it, but he kept hoping it would break. Nothing against Garfield, but he would much rather not have anything to remember his father by. 

"Well," Eddie looks at the sink, "I'll clean it. And you can go sit in the living room and I'll be there in a second to patch you up." 

Steve doesn't move. He just shakes his head and Eddie is a little lost. Maybe his hand is hurting so he tries to grab it but Steve flinches, back hitting the sink and making a pan slide down. 

"Baby, what... what is it?" Eddie asks. He's at a loss here and has no idea what to do. If nothing works, he'll have to call Robin because Steve is clearly about to have a breakdown.

"You're mad," Steve says. And... no. Eddie's not mad. Why would he be mad over a dumb mug? Even if it was his favorite, Eddie wouldn’t be made. Accidents happen and he’s honestly more worried that Steve is hurt than anything else.

"I'm not, Stevie,” he tries to sound sincere, but it’s like Steve has checked out of their conversation. Like he’s lost inside his own head.

"I broke your favorite mug. I made a... a mess. But I'm gonna clean it up." 

Eddie shakes his head. "You'll do no such thing. You're gonna go to the living room and you're gonna let me clean it. And then you’re going to wait for me because I need to take a look at your hand, need to make sure it’s just a superficial cut."

Eddie moves again and Steve freezes. 

"No! I'm gonna clean it," he says and Eddie is starting to get tired. He wants to fix it, he wants to help Steve, but he’s not sure how. 

There’s a little voice inside his head that tells him this is not about this particular mug on this particular day. Eddie likes to think he’s a nice boyfriend. Treats Steve well. Because he does. Never did anything to make Steve think he would be mad over a broken mug and definitely wouldn’t be mad about any mess. 

Everyone knows Steve is the one putting up with Eddie’s messy ass. 

Then, like a lightning bulb, something clicks, and Eddie decides to try something. 

"Steve," he says, voice stern, and Steve looks like he was expecting it. "Go to the living room. Right now. I'll be there in a second." 

Eddie hates the way his voice sounds. He’s not being rude, just a little more firm than he would usually be with Steve. 

Steve likes soft and sweet. But this seems to do the trick. He watches as Steve’s eyes fall to the ground with a small nod and then he walks away, pressing his hands together to keep the blood from dripping everywhere.

He sighs. He feels so out of his depth right now it's not even funny. He wants to call Buckley and ask her what she thinks, but he can’t right now. Steve would definitely hear it and that wouldn’t end up well. 

Eddie gets to cleaning. He collects the broken pieces and feels like the mug is mocking him, telling him how dumb and useless he is. Can’t even help his boyfriend.

He’s not in any rush. Feels like Steve could use the quiet time to calm down. To maybe tell Eddie what’s happening and then Eddie will fix it.

But that’s not what happens.

Steve is sitting on the couch, head low as he clutches his hand. His sweatpants are stained with blood and Eddie knows he'll have to ask Wayne how to clean them. 

"Steve," he says softly but even that makes him jump. He looks up at him and his eyes are glassy and distant. Eddie fucking hates it.

"I'm sorry," he says again and Eddie sighs. He doesn't know what's happening but he has a hunch and he's going to go with it. 

"It's ok. It was an accident," he says and he can see Steve shaking his head. "Stop. I'm talking now." 

Eddie's voice is calm but firm and Steve just nods, sniffling. 

"I wouldn't lie to you, would I?" Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head. That's not enough. 

"Words, Steve. Would I lie to you?" 

"N-no," Steve says and Eddie offers him the hint of a smile. 

"Right. So, I'm not mad that you broke the mug, ok?" 

Steve nods. "Ok."

"I am mad, though," Eddie starts and he sees fear in Steve's eyes. His insides twist. He's either going to nail this or ruin his relationship. "That you hurt yourself and didn't call for me. Why didn't you call me for, Stevie?"

He says the last part a little softer. Steve's eyes are on him and this is it. Either he cracks him or fucks this up completely. 

"I... didn't want you to be mad," he says. 

"Because of the mug?" 

"Y-yeah," Steve's voice shakes and Eddie takes a step forward. "I didn't mean to, it slipped from my hand and broke, and I thought you would be mad." 

"Baby," Eddie says. It's hard to keep his stance. He wants to hold Steve and kiss him and promise him things are ok, but he needs Steve to see it first. "I wouldn't. I couldn't. You know that, don't you?" 

Steve doesn't seem sure but he nods. And it’s after a long sigh that he keeps talking, "my... dad.  He always got mad. Always yelled at me and called me stupid." 

Eddie sighs. Bingo. 

"I'm not your dad though, am I?" 

"N-no."

"Who am I?" Eddie asks and Steve looks at him and his face finally softens. 

"You're Eddie. My... boyfriend" 

Eddie smiles. "Yeah, I am. And I don't get mad, do I?"

"Only..." Steve says. He looks like a kid, afraid to get the answer wrong. "Only if I hurt myself and don't call you." 

Eddie feels his chest filling up with pride. He nods, takes a step forward, and puts his hand on Steve's face. 

"Yeah. That's right. Because it's ok to ask for help. I'll always help you, ok? I'll always take care of you, Stevie. And I'll never get mad at something like this, ok?" 

Steve's eyes flutter shut. He's calmer now. He nods and nuzzles Eddie's hand. 

"Ok, Eddie. Thank... thank you." 

Eddie caresses his face. "You're welcome, sweetheart. I got you, ok? Can I clean you up?" 

Steve nods. "Please."

God. Eddie's heart is in pieces right now. He's so sad and so angry at the same time. He wants to storm into the Harrington's house and beat the shit out of Richard Harrington. 

He remembers seeing Steve walking around in school. Hidden bruises that no one seemed to notice. But Eddie did. 

He's going to kill that motherfucker.

But not right now. 

Right now he's going to take Steve to the bathroom in their tiny apartment. And he's going to clean him up and patch his cut. And he's going to take him to bed, to cuddle him and whisper in his hair how much he loves him. 

How he's the best thing that has ever happened to him. How Steve makes him so, so happy. How he wants to spend the rest of his life with him. 

But tomorrow? Tomorrow he's going to make sure no one hurts Steve ever again. 

[from-izzy]

[08:52] | nct lee donghyuck | haechan

“I love how you cared for me after, especially last night.”

pairing » nct lee donghyuck (haechan) x fem!reader​

trope/au » ​established relationship au!, marriage!au, non-idol au!

genre » mildly (?; as compared to my latest one before) suggestive but mainly fluff, dad haechan and mum reader, fluffy aftercare morning, just a cute little scenario in the morning, husband haechan who loves you very much, gentle haechan who treats you well, haechan and you both get to be the little/big spoon

word count; estimated reading time » 1626; ~6 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » aftercare in the morning (continued from previous night), suggestive talk, reader wears haechan's clothes, reader has hair long enough to be tucked behind the ear, mentions of s*x; from previous night (no smut), haechan touches your lower body momentarily, abdominal cramps after s*x, (a ton of) kissing, pet names (baby girl, bubs), nicknames (hyuck), mildly (?) suggestive sentence at the end, haechan implied to be physically bigger, not proofread 😭

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

just a small little something because exam season got me going 🤸🤸🤸🤸

i have a feeling that the next story i release is going to be a long one and is going to be quite emotional (for me at least) so this is a little 180 before that happens!

The sun seeps through the small gaps between your curtain and the birds sing their songs too early for your liking; especially after what happened last night. Blinking your eyes open wasn’t effortful and so was satisfyingly yawning your sleep away. What your overused muscles did not like too much however was when you tried to sit up on the bed, your abdomen forcing your head to lay back on your pillow.

“Okay…” You chuckle to yourself, heat creeping onto your cheek when you remember the events of last night. A hand goes on top of your stomach, stroking your skin and remembering how someone else did the same thing to lull you back to sleep last night.

You turn your head towards that someone, an adoring smile on your face when you’re greeted with his messy morning hair and slightly gaped lips. You couldn’t help but lay on your side to admire Haechan’s features, his relaxed and light snoring making your heart beat faster. His eyelashes took your attention and you couldn’t help but brush the posterior side of your index finger along it, unfortunately stirring him into consciousness.

“Sorry,” You quickly apologised, scooting over closer to him to share some body warmth. You gently pulled his head to your chest, cradling and blocking the sun behind you from reaching him and playing with his black strands, humming a quiet song while your other hand patted his back.

Haechan satisfactorily groans at his wife’s loving touch, snuggling over to bury his nose between the pillow and the crook of your neck, “Morning, bubs.”

“Good morning, Hyuck,” pressing a kiss to the top of his hairline.

“How was your sleep?” His morning voice was still evident, deep and husky; almost like last night but in a more tame and most definitely more innocent way.

“Too good.”

You feel the smirk on your skin as Haechan leans into you to pamper kisses all over the curve of your shoulder, “Yeah?” Up towards your jawline to your chin. His tongue runs free a little bit when he reaches your bottom lip before lightly biting it. “You like that?” Asking after hearing you gasping and closing your eyes. “Baby girl, didn’t get enough action last night?”

A hand sneaks up past your waist, pulling his oversized shirt up and immediately finds its way on your lower body down to your ass. You couldn’t help but whine slightly when Haechan spread his fingers around one of your cheeks, his palm warmer than your body. He lightly grips your body, so differently from last night, and you can’t help but tilt your head down to kiss him as he reminds you of last night. 

You got lost in his lips treating yours so gently, making sure that he pours all his love into you. But as the intensity increased, you forgot about the lower body pain and your husband was alarmed by the way you pulled away suddenly, flopping over on your back with the crease between your eyebrows evident.

Haechan gives you space, backing away just enough to get a proper look at you. He props up to one elbow against the bed, a hand tucking your hair behind your ears, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You shake your head, a reassuring smile forming on your lips as soon as you see the worry in his eyes. A hand cups Haechan’s jawline, pulling him closer for a kiss. Just like before, Haechan didn’t stop giving you light reminders of his love around your face this time: the tip of your nose, forehead, eyelids and anywhere he could reach without hurting you. The hand that held your lower body moments before is now over the weighted blanket over you both, and he strokes the cotton to where your stomach is below.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, bubs.”

“You didn’t. Don’t apologise for that, Hyuck.” You immediately attempt to reassure his worries, “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“You didn’t, bubs.”

But Haechan still couldn’t help but pout again and you mirror his expression more exaggeratedly in hopes of making the situation lighter; to make sure he knows that he took care of you well straight after as well and that last night shouldn’t be something he should apologise about.

“I love how you cared for me after, especially last night.” A light blush spread across his face and you giggled at the way he face dived into his cushion, red and shy. “Pulling me onto your lap, letting me rest on your shoulder while you dressed me and messaging my body.” 

“Were you okay?” You heard him over the pillow, “I tried to be as gentle as possible.”

“You were super gentle with me,” You nod, acknowledging him, “Non-stop kissing me and telling me that I’m beautiful.”

Haechan turns his head to you, a slight look of confusion on his face, “I’m just stating facts though?”

A push against his shoulder and a light melodic laugh is what you give him. Haechan joins in the laughter, and his hand over your stomach begins to move, his fingers rising and falling delicately. You both just stare at each other, commuting through your eyes the upturned corners of your lips. It wouldn’t be for too long though because this time, it’s your turn to be the little spoon, imitating exactly what you did before plus the addition of his whispers of sweet nothings against your ears. You indulge yourself in his warmth and his natural scent that reminds you of safety and home. The blanket is adjusted, Haechan pulling it up just underneath your eyes and you could swear you could slumber back to sleep at this moment. 

The door clicks open then and there, Haechan’s eyes lighting up at the sight of the little one. The younger girl runs to her parent’s bed like usual but stops in her tracks when Haechan puts a palm out towards her hurriedly, “Don’t jump on the bed, little bean.”

“Why…?” Sadness laced her voice.

“Mumma is in a little bit of pain at the moment,” You peek up behind your blanket, saying a quick greeting to what Haechan would say is a mini version of you. “Come over on this side,” Tapping an empty spot on his side of the bed.

Soon, your child slumps over your husband’s figure, chin resting on his biceps as she looks over to you sadly, “Mumma, are you alright?”

“I am, baby, don’t worry.” You outstretched an arm towards your child, patting her head and successfully putting a smile on your face.

“Whoever hurts my mumma will have to go through me!”

Oh, if only she knew.

“You can’t beat, dadda, bean.” 

…oh my. 

You mentally face-palmed at the conversation unfolding before you. As your child lightly slaps your husband’s arm and asks for a reason why you’re bedridden, you can’t help but hide your face behind your blanket. You hear your husband panicking and stuttering, trying his best to go around the topic whilst also giving her a proper explanation that no, Haechan would never hurt you in that way.

“Dadda! You said you would always take care of mumma!”

“I-I do!”

“Then what is this?” She points at you, “Get away from mumma!”

You could no longer contain your laughter and it was the reason why your child stopped reprimanding her dad. Seeing you smile and laugh was the only reassurance that your child needed because she no longer gave her dad slaps and Haechan mentally thanked you for getting him out of that situation.

But seeing your child awake also reminded you of the time and the empty belly that she must have. Your mother instincts kicked in and your stomach cramp didn’t matter with her in your sight, “Alright, mumma will get up now.” 

“Hey, hey, no you’re not.” Haechan takes hold of your shoulder, grabs the corner of the blanket from the other side of the bed and pulls it to your chest. He hovers above you, heart-shaped eyes decorating his gaze on you. His arm stays there to lock you in, “I’ll take care of her. Just rest, bubs.”

“Hyuck, it’s fine.”

“No.” He curtly responded. “Stay here. I’ll take care of the little gremlin.” 

“Dadda!” So maybe it wasn’t as quiet and subtle as he thought it was. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” Haechan pinches your daughter’s cheek, “Go to the kitchen. Dadda will meet you there with your favourite breakfast.” It didn’t take a second for her to jump out the bed, excited screaming and variations of ‘yay’s echoing your room, the hallway and soon, basically your whole house.

“Are you sure she’s not your mini me?” 

Haechan playfully scoffs, rolling his eyes at your question. “And what about my lovely wife? What breakfast do you want?”

“I’m not too hungry yet.” Feeling your eyelids becoming heavy once more as you exhale lightly from your lips, “I’ll make brunch later.”

Haechan hums at your thoughts and slips out from the shared blanket. The disappearance of the secure warmth and the weight of his hand on your stomach wasn’t the best but you’re aware of the parental duties that must be addressed first. As Haechan finally stands and stretches his limbs in the air, he doesn’t forget to give you a final kiss on the lips, staying there for a while, separating to look at you before planting another one.

“You shouldn’t want anything, baby girl,” Your slight eyebrow raise only made him smirk. And as you thought you would be able to go back to being sound asleep for another hour, Haechan just had to make your brain and heart go haywire, “Not with how I filled you up last night.”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here or removed!): @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿

[ma1dita]

bedtime stories

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: bitch this was supposed to be a blurb. 2.4k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where night shift with him runs late, but you don't mind at all. You won’t admit a lot of things to Luke Castellan, but perhaps he knows something you don’t. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

warnings: none, banter and fluff on a night shift

a/n: Introducing luke castellan x trouble!reader… this is just gonna be ongoing blurbs and one shots of an idea in my head (and my latest hyperfixation) reader is essentially reformed unhinged bitch now camp mom and it’s enemies to friends to lovers. Working through reading the pjo series hehe

(posted 1/16/24, beta’ed by the lovely @ttulipwritezz @mrsaluado & @lixzey thank you bunches)

—

Dragging your feet across the dirt of the forest floor, you sigh to yourself in the quiet night air. It’s gonna be another long night and with the beep on your digital watch, you blearily peer at the time and sigh. Almost 11. Swaying slightly, you whistle a familiar tune as your nimble hands straighten out the deck chairs near the firepit, pick up trash to toss into the receptacle, and turn off the lights in the dining hall. All on the way to check Cabin 7, mind you, and the Apollo kids will undoubtedly loop you into singing a song with them before you shut the lights off and close the curtains.

Gods, your dad is definitely gonna hear about this in the morning.

It’s not like Mr. D ever really cares, or listens, more focused on droning on about missing his wife and playing pinochle even when you rattle off his…your to-do list for the week to keep Camp Half-Blood running and the younger demigods in mostly one piece. Honestly, he should be grateful he has you, and even if he is, he’ll never let you hear it.

At least you’re Chiron’s favorite.

A shadow passes your field of view, and before you can rub at your sleepy eyes, strong hands pin you to the side of a tree on the dirt path you were supposed to take across camp.

Sorry, let’s correct that—you’re one of Chiron’s favorites. The other all-star camper stares at you like you’re a three-headed dog under the beam of his flashlight.

“Just me, Castellan,” you grumble, a bit winded as you blink harshly at the bright light. “Still doing checks.”

“You’re losing your touch. You making a habit of going to bed late?” Luke smirks, and it’s actually annoying how he always looks like he knows something you don’t.

“You always pin campers to trees?”

“Just the pretty ones.” His smirk turns into a sly grin that makes you roll your eyes.

“Okay loser, I’ve got cabins to check,” you drone as you push off from the tree. “6 cut into my time after staying there longer than I had to. The little ones kept asking these otherworldly philosophical questions and Annabeth just laughed at me while I tried to not pluck my eyelashes out one by one.”

Your clipboard taps lightly against your hip despite the aggression in your voice and Luke laughs much like his little sister, a burst of sunlight overflowing into the dreary and mundane. Your lips quirk upward before you can stop and remind yourself of who you’re talking to. The tall boy reaches behind him to scratch the nape of his neck and sighs, sucking at his teeth.

“You’re always doing the most, huh?”

“Who else is going to, my dad? He’s probably already out like a light.” Once, you found your dad asleep at his desk after dinner, snoring loudly instead of keeping watch. You started taking more night shifts after that.

“Well, no. You know I’m here to help you, even if you’ll never admit it.” Luke extends a hand to you so it’s easier to navigate the step back onto the dirt-trodden path, but there’s no fun in that, so you hop around him and start walking away. The sound of his footsteps fall and match yours as he follows you, both in tandem like the sound of a steady heartbeat.

“The day you catch me admitting anything about you is the day the Underworld freezes over. You should know that by now.”

“Woooooow, so I don’t get a thank you for singing the Apollo kids to sleep? You should’ve seen the look on their faces when I walked in and not you. They ended the song pretty quickly after I opened my mouth to croak out a chorus,” he says, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth and nudging your side as you both laugh.

He’s a terrible singer, to be honest. Not even the Fates would’ve expected that from someone who otherwise seems like a perfect boy. Sometimes you wonder what he’s done in a past life to have it so easy–to look like he’s been chiseled by Michelangelo, have the athletic prowess of ten Spartan soldiers, and the heart of a hero only legends could get right. He’s probably the closest thing to an actual hero here at camp. You often find yourself looking at him in hopes of finding a crack in the porcelain of his perfection, but any fault of his seems to just build up his endurance in his quest for glory.

Maybe that’s why your dad doesn’t like him, his aspirations for something greater than the camp that’s kept you safe all these years, though the multiple complaints and headaches the both of you have given him as squabbling teenagers must’ve added onto that. Sometimes, though, the way he helps ease your load prods a funny feeling you do your best not to acknowledge in your stomach. Luke walks ahead shining the flashlight onto the dark path so you both don’t trip. It’s there now, at the sight of him offering an arm for you to latch onto to hop over fallen branches.

Mental note: tell the satyrs to move that in the morning.

As you hurdle over the brambles, you let go immediately after you steady your feet, moving his hand that’s holding the flashlight back towards the path with no other words. You are your father’s daughter after all, and he knows this—stubborn and your name have the same face.

Moving further towards your destination, the light reveals a teenage couple entangled within each other’s arms at the base of a tree out there for everyone to see in the moonlight.

“Jeez, guys, alright— pack it up, wrap it up! Could’ve at least found somewhere private… It’s curfew already, if I see you two again it’s a citation.”

The boy blushes and mumbles an apology to you, scurrying back to cabin 7, and you raise an eyebrow at a sheepish son of Hermes who swears they were all in their beds when he was singing to them.

“I don’t wanna go back to my cabin, all the boys are gross…” the girl whines, cheeks flushed from embarrassment as she flutters her eyelashes at you and Luke. You sigh. What has the world come to that young demigods are entrusted to the care of two people who barely consider themselves adults?

“Well, if you’re still in 11 with this one,” you simper, blatantly pointing at Luke, “I can’t blame you. He’s gross. Come by mine tomorrow and I’ll get you privacy curtains, okay? Trust me Yvonne, you don’t think boys are all that gross if you like kissing them.”

She nods, smiling charmingly at the two of you, before brushing past Luke and winking, “See you inside!”

Your head swivels to look at Luke with a coy expression, “There’s no way she’s not an Aphrodite.”

Luke huffs as he clicks his flashlight on and off. His hands are always fidgeting, always searching for something to do. He’s more like his dad than he thinks, carrying the quieter traits of quick fingers and more obvious ones like his constant search for amusement. Talking to you consistently satiates that itch.

“Aphrodite isn’t the only god that attracts attractive people, you know.”

“Oh? Do tell, because if she’s one of you, your cabin’s gonna be extra trouble,” your mouth curves into a smile, and he thinks he likes it more when you’re trying to be mean to him like this because the back and forth between you two is a comfort Luke cherishes. The words have lost their bite over the years, and there are no more cuts and bruises besides an occasional wounded ego, but it’s still entertaining, to say the least. He can’t imagine a day without hearing the teasing lilt of your voice, always easy to prod at and always wanting to have the last word.

“My dad is the god of thieves and messengers. We’re fast, smart, charming, and also good-looking. Do the math.”

“Also apparently the ones with the biggest egos, but okay.” There it is. He shoves you and you trip over your own feet falling fast.

“Hey! Jerk.”

“Definitely a daughter of Dionysus, crazy as always, and clumsy too.” Luke’s nose crinkles at the sight of your crumpled frame.

“Your hand is like the size of my face, what the fuck was I supposed to do with that?”

A fleeting thought in the back of your mind reasons that maybe violence is the answer, but he’s still not finished making fun of you even after he helps you up.

“And vulgar! What a shocker.”

“Ugh. You better hope your dad stops populating because if there’s any more that come here and act like you? I’m quitting.”

Luke watches you gaze at the heavens, probably looking for a fuck to give and he snickers at how easily you give in nowadays. Maybe he’s the one losing his touch—usually you’d put up more of a fight to argue.

“You wouldn’t. You love this job. Camp. S’why you’re not as fun anymore, Trouble.”

A noise of agreement leaves you as you glare at him and the stupid nickname back from when you used to wreak havoc just because you could, a direct juxtaposition to the honorary position you hold today. Finally following him up the front steps of Cabin 11, Luke opens the door and beckons you in, pushing at your hip with his knuckles.

Checking this place last has become a habit with Luke helping you out, and all the kids—Hermes’, minor gods’, and unclaimed, love it when you come to stop by before lights out. They especially loved the later bedtime, but hugs and cool stories from you were a close second.

“Everyone good and ready for bed in here? Sorry it took so long guys,” you say, visually scanning the perimeter and matching faces to bunks, seeing them all settled beneath their sheets, all except for one Luke Castellan. He’s still leaning against the doorframe, breath grazing your shoulder as he hands you a copy of his log from the other cabins he kindly relieved you from.

“What, no bedtime story this time?” He says through hooded eyes, and though he won’t admit it, he adores the sound of your voice. Luke does anything he can to get your attention to hear it more. It almost has a calming effect on him, and maybe it’s the fact that your dad can cause and cure madness, anxiety, and all alike, so something in him believes you do the same, powers or not. One look from him has you sputtering out snarky remarks; different strategies, same results—works every time.

“Castellan…” He grins at the look on your face, and tiny voices pop up from around the cabin, all asking for a bedtime story. Chris even starts a chant from his top bunk, making you want to hurl your clipboard at his head. Hypnos is calling your name at this point, and you’d do anything to crawl into your own safe haven in Cabin 12, but your heartstrings pull at the sight of the little ones pouting, hoping for you to tuck them in with a blanket of comforting words and stories of something more than what these walls meagerly provide. Camp Half-Blood only keeps them safe for so long, and not a lot of them make it out of here alive. You and Luke both know that being two of the oldest at camp, and his smug expression as he settles into his bed is confirmation that you’re about to give in.

“Fine. One quick story, and then everyone goes to sleep okay? Who wants to sit on the floor with me?”

You take your place sitting on the ground next to the foot of Luke’s bunk as he lays upside down on the twin-sized mattress, peering at you through one open eye as the younger children, mostly the unclaimed ones—drag their blankets and form a circle in the middle of the room, waiting patiently for you to start enchanting them with something to occupy their tired minds. Acting— that’s the gift your father had to give you; this time you decide to tell the story of Atalanta and the golden apples, how she ran from love and it still found her in the end, and how some stories can have good endings, despite what’s often found in Greek legend.

Multiple tired eyes droop closed as you finish the story and carry the ones who’ve fallen into Hypnos’ embrace back into their bunks, tucking them in with kisses on their foreheads and it leaves you with a warm feeling that will help you brave the chill on your walk back.

Admittedly, this next part is your favorite part on nights like these. The overflowing cabin of rowdy pranksters and babbling children is as quiet as the secret you hold close to your heart, tiptoeing back towards Luke’s space and draping his blanket over his muscular frame, exhausted from another day of trying to achieve greatness. Your hand brushes a dark curl away from his forehead, fingertips ghosting his pale skin like a kiss you’d never have the guts to give. With everything you have in you, you summon thoughts of serenity and peace, hoping whatever keeps him up at night lets him rest for even a few hours. You don’t pray often, finding yourself spiting your father instead of honoring him on most days, but in the dim light of Cabin 11, you find yourself making time to do so for a pain in your ass called Luke Castellan.

Perhaps he knows something you don’t after all, the crease in his forehead relaxing as you pull your fingertips away.

“Sweet dreams, angelface.”

Mental note: Put his ass to work tomorrow for falling asleep halfway through the story.

It’ll only give him another excuse to ask you to tell it again a few nights later. You find yourself not minding that, a sliver of a smile pulling at your face as you walk towards the door and shut the lights off, a sleeping son of Hermes illuminated by the gentle shine of the moon.

You’d never admit that, though.

—

“you steady me and stir me

all at once.”

-Tanya Wright

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[azrielhours]

Our Marriage Bed

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 5k

Synopsis: Azriel is slowly going insane wanting you, having difficulty differentiating between dreams and wakefulness. One night his dream carries over and he tries to get it on with you.

Warnings: Slightly darker sexual themes. Unclear beginning/end of wakefulness. Light choking, rough sex. Azzy being mean.

a/n: dedicated to my darling @tadpolesonalgae. Can be read alone, but part 2 to Company of Phantoms

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Azriel couldn’t recall the last time in his five centuries he felt this much raw contentment. He was sitting in your room, waiting. Since that night you’d invited him to share your bed, a door had been opened. A friendship, he supposed, though friendship was a pathetic encapsulation for the trove of feelings he kept barely buried beneath the surface. The more nights he spent with you, the more the lines blurred between the boundaries of this arrangement. As did the boundaries of his sanity, but who was he to complain when he got to sleep in your arms night after night?

He basked in your space, illuminated by a warm glow. Your scent lingered in the sheets. Your books spilling secrets of your intellect on the shelves. Your music taste contained in the Symphonia on your dresser. Little pockets of you for Azriel to satiate himself with.

Azriel caught himself nodding off on the bed when the doorknob turned, and he straightened. Wordlessly, you walked right to him, a privilege he was yet to grow accustomed to. “Y/N,” he breathed as you sat right before him. You brought your hand to his chest, running it down his sternum, catching the skip in his heart. Azriel felt his last dregs of tiredness dissipate. Were you about to kiss him?

“Y/N—”

“Azriel,” you purred like a song.

He couldn’t breathe as your lips grazed his cheek, trailing to the corner of his mouth.

“Azriel.”

“Yes.”

“I have to tell you something.” Again, that dreamy drawl. He swallowed, waiting. But you only moved to trail your lips to his other cheek, shifting closer so your breasts pressed against his chest. Traced your mouth to his ear, letting your breath fan across his ear. There, you only whispered, Azriel.

Azriel. 

“Azriel?”

Azriel snapped awake.

Fuck.

You stood next to him—next to the armchair, where he’d—

He looked around. Not in your bed. His cheeks heated. You hadn’t been—touching him, hadn’t tried to—

“Sorry for taking so long,” you spoke softly. Not in that echoey chant.

“That’s okay,” he said. Just a dream.

You only smiled sweetly at him. “Did you want to sleep here again, baby?”

Baby. God, you were killing him.

Azriel only nodded. You bit your lip apprehensively. How you managed to call him pet names and sleep next to him but still blush at the suggestion had him huffing a laugh. He reached out, gently clasping your forearms, tugging you down. You gasped, bracing your hands on his chest, landing into his lap. Azriel bit back his twin surprise at his brazenness, but when you leaned closer, he relaxed into the indulgence.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, and you wrapped yours around his shoulders. Azriel buried his face into the crook of your neck, breathing you in. “Missed you,” he mumbled.

“I missed you too, Azzy.”

Azriel knew he was growing too reliant on you—could feel his discipline crumbling more each day he got to have you while not quite having you.

You gently pulled your arms back over his shoulders to leverage yourself off his chest, and Azriel loosened his grip around your waist, happy to lazily hold you. He watched you expectantly. You cocked your head to the side, and Azriel copied you, making you laugh.

“Let’s go to bed,” you said. “You already fell asleep.”

Azriel shook his head. “I wasn’t.”

You rolled your eyes, hauling off his lap. “I saw you, Az.”

He stood, letting you pull him to bed. “I saw you,” he murmured. You’d touched his chest the same way then, too. In dream and wake.

You gave a confused laugh, shaking your head, pulling the sheets back with one hand while he held your other. The words marriage bed crossed his mind before he suppressed the thought.

Once you’d both settled in, Azriel reached for your hand beneath the sheets, feeling his drowsiness return. He focused on the sensation of your gentle strokes across his hand. “What was it that you wanted to tell me?”

“Hm?”

“You said you had to tell me something,” he muttered.

“No, baby, I don’t think I did.”

He wasn’t sure why you’d change your mind so quickly. He knew he was asking too much of you, but he could not bear to pull back. “Can I touch you?” he whispered.

“Yes.”

Azriel snaked his arm beneath your shoulders, hauling you to his chest. “This okay?”

“Yes, honey,” you breathed, eyes closed. “Take whatever you want.”

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Mhm.”

“Now I can’t sleep without you,” he whispered, stroking down your arms.

You only huffed a sleepy laugh.

“Look what you’ve done to me.”

“Sorry, Azzy,” you mumbled. He could feel your soft smile against his collarbones.

Azriel savoured your warmth, pressing you even tighter against him. It was never enough. He always wanted more of you.

You twitched in your sleep, prompting him to soothe down your arms. But instead of settling down, you suddenly pushed your body more firmly against his. Azriel’s mind quieted fully when you extended a leg across his hips. He itched to trace the soft skin of your thighs. But it felt—it was too much, wasn’t it?

You’d told him to take what he wanted—invited him to share your bed each night, but surely, he shouldn’t—

You sighed in your sleep, a pretty sound. But you were suddenly moving again. Tracing a hand up and down his chest. Up to his throat, dragging your fingernails gently down the column, bringing Azriel fully into alertness again.

The leg thrown across his middle stretched further forward as you slowly dragged yourself atop him. He braced his hands on your hips as you seated yourself on his lap Were you—was this—

“Y/N?” he whispered.

“Azriel,” you sighed.

“Yes?” he breathed. He’d take anything you gave. He’d been right about earlier—you’d wanted him.

“I have to tell you something,” you whispered.

Your knees bracketed either side of his waist, pressing your hips more firmly to his own. Balancing your hands on his lower abdomen, Azriel’s breath hitched.

You ground down against him. Once, then stilled. It was enough for Azriel to feel blood coursing where your bodies met. Then, again. A delicate drag of your core against him. He couldn’t help the glide of his hands from your hips to your thighs, where the fabric of your nightgown had exposed them for his pleasure.

He clasped the underside of your thighs, revelled in the movement as you dragged yourself a third time against his growing hardness. Azriel groaned.

You were straddling him perfectly. You fit perfectly. He remained still, watching to see what you’d do next—prayed there’d be a next.

Lust clouded his brain, making it hard to lay still beneath you as you stared down at him. He wanted nothing more than to grind you against him again, to bury himself inside you.

You only stroked your hands up his torso as you bent over him languidly, arching onto his torso to pepper kisses along his jaw. Your breasts pressed firmly against him. When you moved your hips against his again, kissing his neck, he turned to whisper in your ear. “You’ll give me what I want?”

“Yes, Azriel.”

He let himself grind up against you. “Anything I want?”

“Anything,” you breathed. He could hear the smile on your lips. When you made him groan again, you giggled, a wicked sound. You kissed your way to his mouth, but before reaching his lips, you lifted off his chest, returning to your previous straddle. You smiled down at the panting mess you’d made of him. “I wanted to tell you something,” you murmured airily.

Right.

“Tell me, pretty girl,” he rasped, stroking up and down your thighs.

You leaned back down, and against his lips, you whispered. “Azriel.”

“Yes.”

“Azriel.”

“Yes.”

“I want you to make me your bride.”

Azriel wholly stilled.

You only grazed your lips against his. “Make me your bride.”

He couldn’t breathe.

“Azriel.”

Azriel.

“Azriel?”

He blinked.

You’d moved off his lap, still hovering over him, a hand on his chest. The air was suddenly colder, seemingly darker than a moment ago.

How did you get off him so fast?

Too far away.

He was still panting, but you were taking him in with a calmer reception. Azriel sat up to meet you where you were, hands immediately going to your waist, tugging you firmly to his chest. You gasped, bracing your hands against his shoulders.

He kissed the smooth warmth of your neck, felt your pulse quicken beneath his lips.

“Azriel,” you breathed. He only grunted in response. You wanted him, and that was all he wanted. He thoroughly enjoyed the high-pitched tone he put in your voice. “Azzy.”

“Yes.” He kept kissing your neck, making his way to your shoulders, your collarbones.

“Did—did you have another nightmare?”

“No, baby, I didn’t,” he spoke against your skin. Even softer than it was a moment ago. Warmer, somehow. He continued his path, memorizing the hitch in your breath.

“Azzy,” you spoke again, stroking gently down his arms. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you what you asked for.”

You said nothing but didn’t stop your gentle caress down his arms.

“You said I can take what I want,” he ground out.

“Yes, honey, but—”

“I want to give you what you asked for,” he said.

“And what’s that?”

Azriel lifted onto his knees, caging your body. He turned you, guiding you to lay beneath him. You looked so beautiful, hair fanned out on the pillow, staring up at him. “To make you my bride,” he said, voice guttural. He braced his hands on either side of your head, and you widened your legs for him to cushion himself against you.

Again, you said nothing, so he leaned forward.

You quickly rested your hands tenderly against his face, stroking his cheekbones. But when he leaned down to kiss you, you turned your head to the side. He kissed your cheeks, trailing closer to your mouth. “You want to be my bride, pretty girl?”

When he raised his head to look at you, your eyes had fallen shut, brows pinching. Your lips parted as you breathed harder. You were being oddly quiet.

Azriel waited a beat. “Say you want me.”

Your eyes shot open, meeting his gaze again.

“You want to be my bride,” he breathed.

You slowly retracted your hands from his face. He watched your throat work a delicate swallow, your eyes searching his as he waited. “Is that—what I wanted to tell you?” you spoke gently. Not that wicked reverberation.

Azriel stilled.

Oh.

There was—no, there was no way. It’d been so clear.

He’d felt you. Felt how much you wanted him.

God, he was going crazy.

“…yes,” he whispered. It was what you wanted, what he wanted, you’d said it so clearly, he’d been awake, he was sure—

“Azzy,” you spoke again with that devastating gentleness.

“Y/N,” he rasped. He didn’t like the desperate edge in his voice.

“Baby,” you said, that enduring softness both soothing and hurting. He let himself stay where he was, resting on your frame, basking in your softness, knowing it would soon end. You searched his eyes, the restless pleading in them broke your heart.

He closed his eyes, bracing himself. Shit. He’d put his hands on your body, lay between your parted legs. Tried to kiss you.

Asked you to be his bride.

“I’m sorry.” He began moving off you, even as you rose with him. “I didn’t—I just thought—”

“Azzy, it’s okay,” you soothed. He sat on the edge of the bed, and you followed as he exhaled deeply. “Your dreams—it’s not your fault. I was just caught off guard, that’s all.”

Azriel shook his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t tell what’s real anymore.”

You cooed, wrapping your arms around his bicep. “It’s okay, honey. We’ll figure it out. I think you just need to rest.” You tugged, trying to pull him back to the pillows.

Azriel met your gaze again. “You still want me here?”

You frowned. “Of course I do.”

He searched your eyes for hesitation. Surely, he should leave, should keep himself from you. But you looked so lovely, beckoning him to sleep. No echoes, no siren mirth. Just honest eyes.

If he were better, if he were saner, he’d get up and leave. Would never risk your comfort—your body—in the state he was in. He was shocked at his inclination to stay.

He rose, let you pull the sheets back for him, and lay beside you. He knew shame would meet him in the daylight. He didn’t even want to think about what he’d revealed to you. He closed his eyes, and when you curled your body against his arm, he let himself savour it with every selfish drop of blood in him.

Perhaps this would be the last night he got this gift. He was perfectly content with not sleeping, lest he miss the feeling of sharing your bed this final time. Lest he fall back into his mania.

Azriel decided he’d choose in the morning whether this could carry on. For now, he’d lay next to you. Restless and haunted.

Baiting love and baiting sanity.

~

“Azzy, c’mere,” you murmured. You stood with your back to him in an open field, staring at something on the ground. Azriel approached you, took your extended hand to stand beside you. 

Before the both of you lay a large square plot in the earth. 

A grave.

Azriel turned to face you. Your eyes were cloudy, but you smiled up at him. “Our marriage bed.”

~

Azriel shot awake.

He’d let his feelings turn into something decaying and poisonous. Still, he didn’t know if he could muster the strength to walk away from you.

He turned in the dimness of the morning to see you and halted.

You were gone.

Dread pooled in his stomach, ice tightened his shoulders.

You’d left.

He shouldn’t be surprised, yet he remained frozen, aching. He let his head fall into his hands.

He’d scared you away. Surely.

He’d…he’d make sure you were okay, and then… that would be it. He’d withdraw.

Azriel got ready haphazardly, scrubbing his face in the sink, throwing on yesterday’s clothing. He raced downstairs, running immediately into Cassian, making him stumble.

“Mother’s tits, Az. What’s the matter?”

“Y/N. Have you seen her?”

Cassian was immediately alert. “Why? Is she alright?”

“She’s fine,” Rhys cut in, emerging from the kitchen.

“Where is she?” Azriel demanded, taking a step towards the High Lord.

Rhys surveyed him, and Azriel didn’t like the placating look on his face. “She went to run an errand. Nothing to worry about.”

“What errand, Rhys?”

Rhys stepped closer and placed a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. Had you told Rhys what’d happened the night before? “Az, maybe you should… ease up.”

“Ease up?”

“Yeah. Take a breath. She’s okay. I’d never let anything happen to her.”

“You keep hogging her all to yourself, Az,” Cassian joked. “We had to send her away.”

Azriel ignored Cassian’s attempt at lightening the mood. “Why’s she away, Rhys?”

“She needed to do something.”

“And she… asked you for help?” That shouldn’t have stung as much as it did.

“I just happened to be awake,” Rhys said gently.

Azriel was stunned silent for a beat as his brothers took him in.

“C’mon Az. Let’s go work off the stress in the ring. It’s been a while,” Cassian offered. Azriel still held Rhys’s assessing gaze. Like he could see straight into Azriel’s weary soul. He broke his gaze to meet Cassian’s. His brothers must think he was truly losing it.

“Okay, Cass.”

Rhys nodded in approval, satisfied. “She’ll be back soon.”

~

“Azriel,” you called.

You shifted, bracing yourself on his frame where he lay, somewhere cold and final. Azriel immediately supported you as you put more of your weight on him. He didn’t dare move as you leaned down to kiss his cheeks.

It was dark—you must’ve come to bed. He gently grasped your forearms where they were braced on his chest, lest you slip away again. “Where’ve you been?”

“I left.”

“Why?” his voice faltered.

“You didn’t make me yours,” you murmured.

“But I want to,” he tried rising, but you pushed him back down into the cold beneath.

You met his hazy gaze. “If this is how it’ll be, you’ll only find me in our marriage bed.”

His heart dropped to his stomach. No.

“Yes.

In the companion plot you’d dug to rot in the ground together. “It’s not safe there.”

“Here,” you corrected, kissing his eyelids. Though your eyes were unkind, you only peppered kisses along his jaw. “You don’t listen, Azriel.”

He focused on receiving your affection, ignoring the sharp discomfort inching up his spine. Stone digging into his flesh.

“Azriel. Are you listening?” As you shifted, dirt collected on his legs.

“I am,” he closed his eyes, smelling the musk of the earth.

“Azriel.”

“Yes.”

Azriel.

“Azriel,” you spoke. Gently this time.

Kindly.

He opened his eyes.

You leaned over him not in a tomb but in his bed. It was indeed dark, but there was no finality to be found here. Not when he met your gaze, filled with concern and gentleness. No punishing scowls nor reprimand. No asphyxiation imposed on his ribcage.

“Y/N,” he rose immediately. He’d spent the day searching for you. After sparring, he’d taken off, searched the River House. The city. Asked around for you to no avail.

He’d returned to the House of Wind as the sun set, defeated. He didn’t think sleep would find him in your absence. “I’m sorry,” he began. “I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just—my dreams, they’ve been—” disturbing. Uncanny— “they—I don’t know when they start, or if I’m awake—”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off with the softness in your tone he ached for. You placed a soothing hand on his arm. “After—um, last night, I asked Rhys if I could talk to Madja.”

Oh.

“I know you spent a while having sleepless nights,” you continued. “I thought—maybe the unsettling dreams you’ve been having are a result. So I had Madja make a tonic to help.” You held up a vial full of sloshing liquid.

“A sleeping aid?”

“Not exactly,” you shook your head. “This is to give you dreamless sleep. So you can have an easier time differentiating.”

Azriel was speechless. “Thank you,” he managed.

You nodded, offering a soft smile.

Which meant— “You’re not angry with me?” he asked.

A frown pulled your brows together. “No, love, I’m not angry. I came back to the Town House after Madja finished, but you were gone.”

Oh.

“I—I didn’t know if you—I was looking for you,” he said.

“So was I,” you murmured. “When you didn’t come back to the Town House all day, I asked Mor to winnow me here.” The silence was heavy as you both sat with the clarity. There was much to address. You averted your gaze, crossing your arms.

“What is it?” Azriel asked softly.

You found his eyes with an openness that had him holding his breath. “Last night, you mentioned—you wanted me to, um—”

“It won’t happen again,” he cut in.

You shook your head. “It’s not that, I—Azriel,” you paused, voice softening even further. “You dream of marrying me?”

Azriel was rendered speechless again, but he could do nothing but nod truthfully.

You blushed but uncrossed your arms, peering shyly. “Well. I can’t say I’m entirely opposed to the notion.”

Azriel couldn’t help his smile. His relief. “Yeah?” he spoke softly, itching to reach for you.

You nodded. “I mean we should take it slow, but I’m glad—I’m glad you also—” you gestured back and forth between your bodies. “I—it’s good, Azriel,” you stammered.

He stared intently at you, searching your eyes for doubt. Finding none. He swallowed. “I can do slow.” He’d crawl on shattered glass should you ask, let alone take slow ungratefully.

Your smile deepened, and if it was possible, so did Azriel’s affection for you. You shifted closer to him, reaching for his hand, winding your fingers together. “It’s late, Azzy.”

He narrowed his eyes playfully, happy to let you take the lead.

“Wanna give that tonic a try?” you smiled sweetly.

Azriel chuckled. “Is that taking it slow?”

You laughed. “If you got other things in mind, I won’t object.”

He opened his arms to you, and you smiled, shifting forward, sitting before him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him sweetly. Azriel sank back into the headboard, urging you further forward. You broke away to crawl into his lap. Azriel pulled you firmly against him by your thighs, enjoying your gasp against his mouth.

Azriel tried not to let his urgency show, but it was difficult to hold back when you pressed your body so deliciously against him. He’d dreamt of your warmth against him so frequently that this felt familiar rather than uncharted. It felt correct.

So when his hardness pressed against you, he only broke off from your mouth to see what you wanted next with no apologies tumbling from his lips.

You gazed at him, wide-eyed and wanting, but didn’t remove yourself. He forced his hands to settle on your legs despite the need to pull you onto him. You bit your lip apprehensively; with your grip on his shoulders, you dragged your core against his. Azriel’s eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head, his head falling back against the headboard in relief.

You seized the opportunity, bending forward to kiss his jaw. He gripped your hips, guiding your movement against him, relishing the gasp you let out in your shared pleasure.

He began pulling at the laces of your gown, helping you out of it. You paused only to bare yourself, and he followed suit, tugging off his shirt.

He wanted to taste you, to mark you, to sink inside you and have his way with you. When you returned to his lap in only your skin, he didn’t know where to begin.

Azriel traced down your front, kneading your breasts, drawing more of your pretty moans, making him dizzy with need. He’d take his time another time, he decided, needing to be inside you. Needing you to be ready for that. His hands wandered down the softness of your torso, and you leaned back in his lap to watch as one of his hands braced itself on your thigh, holding it further open, the other touching you where you needed it.

You shuddered, thighs instinctively shifting to close, but he resisted. He stroked up and down your folds, spreading your slick. When he continued his teasing, you impatiently grasped his wrist, setting him where you wanted. He thumbed at your clit, massaging circles into it, causing your back to arch.

His touch was gentle but skilled, pulling an orgasm from you before you could truly sit with the pleasure. Your legs shook, chest heaving, but before you could worry about the haste of it, Azriel was unbuckling his pants, freeing himself.

Through the haze of your pleasure, your jaw fell slack at the size of him. You met his gaze, nervous suddenly. He only gauged you. “You can do it,” he rasped.

You swallowed, nodding. He seemed inclined to sit back and watch you take him, making no move to rise. Perhaps this was his way of making it less intimidating, you thought.

Azriel’s intentions were in fact less benevolent. With you finally at his mercy, falling apart in his lap and baring yourself to him after all his wanting and waiting, he was suddenly overcome with the need to feel the labour of this coupling. Not in the carnal sense—beyond the pleasure, he needed this to be stamped into your body.

He loved you, but right now he wanted you to work for your pleasure like you’d made him work for his devotion, his sanity. His patience and worry. That you asked Rhys for help this morning instead of him. That you made him lose his grip on his control so viscerally.

So he said, “Take what you want.”

You rose on shaky legs, hands braced sweetly on his shoulders as you guided yourself closer to him, legs spread on either side of his hips. You reached down, lining him up and began sinking.

At the immediate pinch between your brows, Azriel knew it hurt you, that the stretch was difficult. Yet you were trying to take it for him. You were so tight around him, so snug it had him heaving. “Good girl,” he muttered and felt you sink a little easier at that. You whimpered.

When you were halfway down on him, you paused, panting softly, meeting his gaze. The innocent pleading in them had Azriel nearly breaking his resolve. He thumbed at your clit again, moving his grip from your thighs to your hips to ease you down. When you finally sank all the way, you were shaking enough for Azriel to let up, to lean forward and kiss you. He was struggling to remain still in the wake of your vice grip, to keep himself from fucking you, but he knew you needed the reprieve.

He kissed you for as long as you needed, continued to massage pleasure back into you as you adjusted in his lap. When you finally relaxed against him, he sat back against the headboard to watch you move. With your hands still on his shoulders, you began hauling yourself up and down onto him, wincing each time he bottomed out. You felt so good around him that he could barely breathe.

You still struggled to ride him. The sheer size of him making it difficult to rise fully, and your legs were close to giving out. “Azzy,” you whimpered, pouting at him terribly.

Oh.

His sweet, lovely girl. “Aww,” he couldn’t help but coo. He frowned in disbelief at his own cruelty, making you take him all on your own like that. “I’m sorry, angel.” He gripped your thighs around your ass, taking over. You gasped as he began guiding your body up and down his length with an ease that stole your breath again. He hauled you up and let you sink down at a relaxed pace, seeing how closely you teetered on the edge of pain and pleasure. “So good for me, right baby?”

“Mhm,” your eyes were falling shut, the pleasure drawing your brows together in a concentrated pinch as you let him fuck you onto him. You relaxed further into his hold, winding your hips forward and back, and he began moving faster.

One of his hands shifted to your throat, gripping it gently but firmly, making your eyes flash to his. “Say you’re mine,” he spoke lowly.   

Your hand wrapped around his wrist lovingly. “I’m yours, Azzy.” He could tell you were close again from the breathy pitch.

“My bride,” he corrected.

You gasped, shifting forward as he hit a spot deep inside that had your rhythm stuttering. “Your bride,” you panted.

“That’s fucking right,” he said, shifting forward so you fell back into the bed. With your legs open, he returned his grip to your throat and plunged inside you again, making you moan. He fucked you more firmly despite the slide of your tight entrance making it nearly difficult. You gripped his wrist with both your hands now, and when your nails dug into his skin, he knew you’d fall apart.

You gasped, mouth agape and soundless as you shuddered through your climax, clamping your legs around his tightly until they fell open again as the pleasure coiled and released. He pulled out to give you a moment to catch your breath, knowing he was being rough.

Though every bone in his body ached to cover you like a shadow, to press his skin on yours and only let up when you needed to breathe, to kiss you and show you he loved you, he rose to witness the sight of you.

Bare and spread for him.

If not for the threat of potentially scaring you off, he’d have tied your wrists to each bedpost and kept you here. All his for all time. To claim and fuck as he pleased.

You were breathing hard, shifting restlessly on the bed, waiting for him to bury himself in you. It seemed you and Azriel kept returning to the act of burial, whether earthly or bodily.

“Azriel,” you breathed, grounding him. He grasped your knees where they lay on either side of him and gently plied them further apart, bending them up to allow him to look at your swollen sex. You blushed when you realized what he was doing, turning to bury your head in the pillow, but Azriel couldn’t tear his eyes away, admiring the gleam. What he did to your body. Your slick was spilling out of you. He ran his fingers through it. You flinched, still sensitive from release, but he didn’t let up, pushing his fingers into you—just needing to feel you. Your thighs shook as he did.

Azriel was harder than marble and needed to be inside you again.

He lined himself up, and before you had the chance to truly catch your breath, he was plunging again. You gasped, hands finding his chest. Azriel pushed inside, relishing the tight fit. He leaned over you, snaking his arms beneath your back. He rested his weight on his forearms where they pressed between your body and the mattress. His hands found their place on your shoulders, gripping them tightly from beneath. The position allowed him to use your frame to haul you onto his length as he pleased.

He fucked you harder than before, and there was nothing you could do but take it, mouth gaping and brows pinching at the overwhelming control he held. At the ecstasy he thrust into your body that made your head spin. At the utter power contained in his body, the ease with which he moved over you and inside you. You were encompassed by the mass of him, all corded muscles pressing into your torso and thick arms beneath you. You gripped his neck, scratching his skin, listening to the sharp slap of his hips against yours.

He was in your womb, so deep that there was a bite of pain with each thrust, but it was him and you wanted every part of him. The pleasure was so overwhelming that you stopped breathing, body tense as you tried to acclimate to it once again. Azriel rested his forehead on yours, lips brushing against yours. Not kissing you, just breathing against your mouth. You let out a choked whimper. “That’s it,” he growled. “Good girl. You can take it.” You heaved air into your lungs again, surrendering to the hold he had on you, physically and whatever tugged you to him beyond. Surrendered to the pleasure, no longer resisting it even as it stunned every nerve ending.

You relaxed, rode the waves, drowned in them. “Good fucking girl,” he breathed again, feeling the shift to pliability in your body. On a baser level, he understood that you were yielding to him. You were safe with him, and you were his. The urgency in his thrusts calmed, but he shifted his hold, and wrapped his arms around your waist, slotting himself against you. He buried his face in your neck, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

Still soft in his arms, still taking him.

He felt his release cresting but didn’t want to stop. Didn’t want this to end. Your thighs were shaking around his waist. “I’m coming inside you,” he breathed into your hair, making you whimper again.

“Please, please,” you panted. He knew you were nearing your release as well, knew you likely couldn’t take more given how thorough he’d been with you. Azriel reverted to hurried movements, memorizing how he dragged against your walls. How warm and tight you were, still clamping down on him like iron, impossibly tighter as he dragged you closer. Your breathing halted again as release tore through you. You cried out, writhing against him.

The pulsating suction of your climax massaged him inside you, making him shudder. He plunged himself into you, putting all his weight into it, fucking you so deep into the mattress as your tightness crested his pleasure.

He finally stopped moving, releasing his seed deep inside you. It was the longest and hardest he’d ever come, leaving him shaking above you, panting.

You soothed shaky hands down his back, and Azriel finally eased his weight off you. Remaining buried inside you, he shifted his arms to bracket your frame, raising to look at you.

Beneath him, your eyes were droopy but bright as you watched him back. That he found sincere trust in them, that there was softness after all he’d done to you only made his chest ache. You truly did give yourself to him. “I—I don’t want to pull out,” he admitted lowly, voice hoarse.

You stroked his cheeks, hands still unsteady. “Then don’t,” you whispered. Azriel snuck an arm beneath your waist again, this time guiding you to lay on top of him as he turned to rest on his back, careful to keep himself tucked inside you. You gasped, sensitive and overstimulated, but took it patiently as he settled himself into the bed, settlling yourself against his chest. He stroked down your form against him, soothed the tremors in your arms and legs.

Whatever part of him existed before that could bear to be without you was dead. Perhaps this is the burial he’d been haunted by night after night. His immortality rebirthed with his consummated bride. He pulled the sheets over your bodies, kissing the crown of your head.

He’d learn to be with you less intensely, to want you more sanely. But not tonight—tonight, he was finally going to rest in peace, buried with you, buried inside you.

His bride in your marriage bed.

~

taglist: @iimisty-a @feyretopia @aroseinvelaris @cullenswife @reiincarnatiion @sfhsgrad-blog @answer-the-sirens @mrstangerinejohnson @marigold-morelli @courtofjurdan @azriels-mate123 @emotionless-lover @marina468 @slvtherinseeker @owllover123 @banasheefan56 @nyotamalfoy

[scuderiahalf]

brother's prejudice — max fewtrell

pairings. max fewtrell x norris!fem!reader, lando norris x twin!fem!reader

summary. you have always been happy to support lando in any way you can but when he can't give that same support back when your relationship with his best friend is revealed, you're left wondering if your relationship with your twin brother will ever be the same. 4.2k, 18+

playlist. "idfc" by blackbear, "the heart wants what it wants" by selena gomez, "our song" by taylor swift, "it will come back" by hozier, "make me like you" by gwen stefani

warnings. lando's a bit of a dick but he makes up for it, censored oral (male receiving)

. . .

"Do you want me to suck your dick or do you want to watch Markiplier?"

"Do you want an honest answer?"

You huffed, and started to get out of bed. "I'm going to take a shower."

"No, baby, I'm just kidding."

Max grabbed hold of your hand before you even fully got to your feet. He tugged you back onto the mattress, pushed you down and hovered over you.

"You're too late. The moment is gone," you said.

"I'm sorry."

He tried to kiss you but only got your cheek when you turned your head to the side.

"Baby, don't be like that. C'mon."

He kissed your neck and your breath caught in your throat because you were just a girl. You were just a weak girl when it came to Max.

"I love you," he said into the skin of your neck.

"Hm," you pretended to consider it, "Apology accepted. Lay down, drama queen."

You pushed at Max's shoulder and he let you get on top of him. You grabbed a hair tie from the nightstand to pull your hair back with.

Max let his hands slide under your shirt—which was actually his shirt, which was why he was only in his sleep shorts at the moment. He freely let himself feel you up as you tied your hair up, squeezing your thighs and hips, your ass and up to your boobs.

"You've got to stop groping me if you want me to give you a blowjob."

"But you know how much I love groping you."

You laughed and pulled his hands out of your shirt. You intertwined your fingers with his, leaned down to kiss his nose.

"You're really making it seem like you don't want me to suck you off."

"I never said that."

You kissed the knuckles on each of Max's hands before shimmying further down the bed, pulling the blankets with you. Soon, the only sounds in the room were Max's sighs of pleasure and the lewd, wet noises coming from your mouth.

Then, someone with the spare keycard to Max's hotel room unlocked the door and entered without knocking.

"Max, mate, the plane's leaving at ten, not eleven, apparently. I tried texting you in the group chat but—what. The. Fuck."

Thank god Lando was a naturally loud individual, giving just enough time for you to sit up and wipe your mouth, for Max to pull his shorts back up. You both faced Lando with similar caught expressions, still tangled up in bed together but thankfully without your lips currently around Max’s dick.

"Are you actually kidding me? My sister? What the fuck, mate?"

You jumped in to try and defuse the situation before it escalated. "Lando, just wait a second. Let me explain—"

Lando cut you a harsh glare. "I'm not fucking talking to you. We can talk about you acting like a slag later."

You drew back, more than a little hurt at your twin's words and the tone in which he said them.

"Don't talk to her like that," Max stood up for you.

"That's really what you're worried about right now?"

"That you're calling your sister a slag? Yeah, it is."

"What the fuck is going on? You get busy with the one girl that has always been off limits and you think you're some sort of knight in shining armor?"

"Let's just all wait a second. Yeah? Let's just take a breath."

“Shut up, Y/N.”

“Lando, if you think—“

“Please don’t argue, Max—“

“He’s being a fucking dick to you, Y/N—“

“I’m being the dick? You’re shagging my sister—“

“That’s no excuse to talk to her like that—“

“It’s not like that—“

“How long has this been going on?”

“Lando, just listen—“

“Ten months.”

You close your eyes.

“TEN MONTHS!”

The flight back home was going to be a long one.

.

“You really don’t have to come.”

“Do you not want me to?”

“No, I do but… Lando is going to be there.”

“And you don’t trust him not to cause a scene?”

“I don’t know if I trust either of you not to get into a shouting match in front of our parents.”

You were already dressed and ready to go to your parents for dinner. You sat on the bathroom counter as Max finished getting ready. He was fixing his hair, the last step before he would be done, also.

You watched as the gentle, concentrated furrow in his brow deepened to one of anger. “He called you a slag, Y/N. I don’t care if he’s your brother; that’s not okay.”

“He said I was acting like a slag—“

“Same difference.”

“—and he didn’t mean it. He was just caught off guard. I did go behind his back…”

“Don’t paint him as the victim. Admittedly, we probably should have told him sooner but that doesn’t mean he gets it be a dick about it.”

Max momentarily abandoned his hair to squeeze your knee.

“You have to stop making excuses for him.”

“He’s my brother.”

“And he has always walked all over you. When was the last time he properly apologized to you for anything?"

“Max…”

This wasn’t the first time Max had brought this up and every time, you deflected or excused everything Max tried to shine a light on. Lando was Max’s best friend but he was your brother, your twin brother. You had never not known him.

Lando was integral in who you were as a person. You were made as a pair. You grew up as a pair. You had always had each other. He was your built in best friend. You always had his back, no matter what.

If you were a pushover, if you let Lando tease you and speak to you in ways you’d never let anyone else, if you tolerated things from him you that you shouldn’t, then that was your decision.

Max didn’t understand that. He didn’t seem capable of understanding the complex workings of your relationship with your twin. You would do anything for Lando, regardless of what it would mean for you, and you were fine with that.

That was how it had always been: Lando, the showman, and you, the supportive sister. Even back when you were karting together, Lando was out front and you were playing defense to protect his position.

You celebrated his victories more than you ever celebrated your own but that was fine. He was your brother and you loved him.

“Okay, fine. Whatever,” Max relented on that front. “But this is a step too far. He doesn’t get to act like a petulant little kid because I’m dating you. Calling you names and running away to Monaco when he’s meant to be filming with Quadrant. He’s being ridiculous.”

Some part of you knew the punishment of Lando ignoring you for the past month didn’t fit the crime of not telling him you were dating Max. The bigger, more conscious part of you felt like carving “traitor” into your forearm with a steak knife and hoping the pain would make your brother forgive you.

Your messages to Lando had become a wall of blue, full of apologies, begging to let you explain, attempts at striking up a conversation like normal, asking if he had meant to cancel your plane ticket to the Azerbaijan Grand Prix followed by even more apologies and then congratulations on a race well done.

You played with your fingers the whole car ride. Max reached over at one point after you had started picking at your cuticles to kiss the back of your hand and hold it the rest of the way, making idle talk that did nothing to distract you from what you were headed towards.

After Lando found you two in Max’s hotel room and the ensuing argument got heated on both of the boys’ sides, Max stayed with you for a few days. When he finally went back to his and Lando’s London flat hoping to talk things out before filming for Quadrant, Lando had cleared out.

He posted a rather passive aggressive Instagram story a few days later about “real friends” featuring some other F1 drivers all holding padel rackets. Max had not been happy when he found you torn up over it, shedding tears over the fear that you had lost your brother.

You had always been sensitive. Quick to cry, quick to care, quick to get attached, quick to get hurt. Lando poked fun at you for it your entire lives but he was also the first to jump in and defend you whenever anyone else said anything to you.

Lando’s distance over the last few weeks hurt. Like, physically hurt. You would see something that you thought he would find funny and go to text him about it just to remember he was giving you the silent treatment and your chest would hurt for the next several hours as you waited on a reply that never came.

Despite it all, when you saw Lando stood in the kitchen with your mom, the first time you had seen him in over three weeks, you couldn't help but smile.

He was halfway to returning it, as if on instinct alone. Then, he noticed Max at your back and his face fell devoid of any sort of pleased emotion. Your own smile fell, chest starting to ache again.

“Y/N darling, there you are.” Your mom came over to hug you and kiss your cheek, then did the same to Max. “And Max! Your best be treating my girl right.”

"Of course, Mrs Norris."

"Stop it with that; I've told you to call me Cisca."

"Mum knows?" Lando said. "You already told mum? Did she know before I did?"

You drew a sharp breath. It was difficult to talk to Lando when his tone was both wounded and accusatory.

"She called me not long after you boys had your spat," your mom explained, "Told me all about her and Max and I couldn't be more pleased. I always knew you fancied him, Y/N, even back in your karting days."

"Muuuum," you groaned, embarrassed even if Max already knew how long you had been crushing on him.

Max laughed and kissed your cheek. "The Shield fancied me."

"Shut up."

“The Shield” was the cringe-worthy nickname that karting media outlets had given you back in the day on account of how difficult it was to overtake you. So much of your karting career had been defense for Lando but you always felt a little victorious whenever you made a boy mad about getting beat by you simply because he couldn't get around you.

You could have gone far in racing if you hadn't quit after a single season of F4.

Lando gagged at Max's display of affection.

Max zeroed in on him, eyes sharp and mouth opening to call him out. You caught his shirt between your fingers, silently reminding him that he had promised not to start a fight. He looked mighty unhappy about it, but Max let his chest deflate and followed you into the dining room to help your other siblings set the table.

Ten minutes later, you all sat down to eat.

This was not the first time Max had dinner with your family. It had become such a common occurrence that it didn't cross any of your minds that your typical seating arrangement had your dad at one head of the table, your mom at the other, your older brother and sisters on one side, and you, Lando, and Max on the other, in that order, always with Lando between you.

Even dating Max, you didn’t think to sit next to him because that was Lando’s seat. It didn’t even cross your mind that it might not have been the best decision to sit your twin next to his best friend who had gone behind his back to date you for months without telling him but it was too late for that.

Lando was the last to sit down after going to retrieve the forgotten napkins. You considered swapping seats last minute as he hesitated over the dining room threshold, then thought better of making a scene and resigned yourself to a torturous dinner without being able to hold Max's hand through it all.

After getting caught by Lando, you had told your mom about you and Max. She had obviously clued your father in but you weren't sure which of your siblings knew the full extent of what went down when Lando found out.

Oliver and Cisca seemed oblivious enough, even if they were casting confused glances at you, Lando and, Max, trying to figure out why the three of you weren't speaking to each other. However, Flo was keeping an awfully watchful eye on your twin and boyfriend, as though waiting for the show to begin.

Table talk was casual and nearly pleasant. With Lando uncharacteristically silent beside you, and Max refusing to so much as look at his best friend, you couldn't fully enjoy spending time with your family while they were all together.

Max caught your eye behind Lando. He gave you a smile, one you couldn't quite return. Lando leaned back and got in the way of your eyeline to Max. You turned back to your food, continuing to pick at the delicious pork your mom had cooked but not able to enjoy it.

"Max, what of you?"

"Sorry?" Max was about as clueless to the conversation at hand as you were.

"Do you have plans to visit Monaco any more this year?"

They must have been talking about the trip your parents and youngest sister would be taking to Monaco during Cisca's summer break. You had planned on taking time off work to go with them, as well as with Max later in the year, closer to the end of the F1 season to attend a few races and help film some Quadrant content.

"Are you and Y/N going sometime together, possibly?"

It was a harmless enough suggestion from your mother. She probably only wanted to try and get Lando and Max to say a word to each other.

Then, despite having already agreed to house both of you later in the year, Lando said, "They haven't mentioned anything."

You really were not enjoying this dinner.

It was getting harder and harder to have all your siblings in the same place as you all got older. Only Cisca lived at home now and she was going off to uni in Manchester next year.

You missed when being with your family was easy, when you didn't even have to think about it. You missed your childhood bedroom that was now the second guest bedroom, your and Lando's bunk beds long gone.

You missed your brother terribly, even if it had only been about three and a half weeks since contact was cut. You didn't want to lose him to something like this but at the same time, you couldn't imagine letting Max go.

Max made you so happy. Couldn't Lando see that? Couldn't he see how in love you were? Couldn't he accept your and Max's relationship for the sake of not wanting to lose his twin sister and best friend?

You would do anything for Lando. You had given up so much for him. You supported him at every twist and turn of your lives. You just wanted things to be okay again.

"Y/N darling, what’s wrong?"

Your mom’s question was quiet, meant to not attract anyone’s attention. But Lando and Max were both quiet, too, in unsettling amounts from the two of them. They both looked at you just in time to see you wiping at your cheek.

"I'm fine."

Except you weren't fine. You were sad and nostalgic and sick of feeling that way and now you were all teary. You just wanted a nice dinner with your family where the two men you loved most in the world acted normal and you didn't start randomly crying at the dining table.

Lando put his hand on your arm. "Y/N/N, are you alright?"

Like his touch finally shook loose something inside you that you had been holding back since the hotel argument or maybe even longer, you rounded on your twin brother.

"No, I'm not alright! How could I be alright when you're acting like this?"

Lando immediately threw his walls back up, going on defense. "You and Max went behind my back."

"And that means you get to throw a month long hissy fit over it?"

"You've been dating for ten months!"

"It's actually eleven, now, mate."

Lando turned to shoot a glare at your boyfriend. "Shut up, Max."

"Stop being a dick, Lando! Just stop! Yes, we should have told you sooner. Yes, I'm sorry you found out like you did. But that doesn't mean you get to treat me, treat us like this."

"How am I supposed to react?"

"You're supposed to get over the initial shock and be happy that two of the people you care about are happy together."

(On the other side of the table, Cisca leaned closer to Oliver. "When did Y/N and Max start dating?"

"I think he said eleven months ago."

"That long and they haven't told us?"

Flo shushed them both. "Shut up; I'm trying to watch.")

"How am I meant to be happy about you two lying to me for the last year?" Lando demanded.

"I have been trying to apologize and talk to you about that for the last month and you haven't let me! You ran off to Monaco, ditched your Quadrant responsibilities, and left me thinking that I'd ruined things forever. That's such a dick move, Lando! Fuck—"

You were crying again. You wiped angrily at your cheeks, wanting to be taken seriously and get your point across but it was difficult when you had tears running down your face.

"You can't just ditch me like that when things get rough. It's not fair when I've been there with you through everything. I have never not supported you. I have always been there for you. I quit racing so that you wouldn't get passed over. But the second I do something you don't like, you can't give me even an ounce of support in return."

"What do you mean you quit racing so I wouldn't get passed over?"

Your chest went still, blood running cold. Shit. Shit shit shit, Lando was never meant to know about that. You had never planned on telling him. Never ever. Not even when you were old and saggy and there would be no consequences. You were meant to take that secret to the grave.

"That's not what's important. I don't understand—"

"What did you mean, Y/N?"

You gulped. "It's nothing. It was a long time ago, anyway. It doesn't matter."

"Y/N."

.

"Me? You want to sign me?"

The Josef Kaufmann Racing representative grinned at your bewilderment. "Yes, you."

"No way. Are you serious?"

"Completely. It obviously won't be set in stone today and we'll need to speak with your parent or guardian but Carlin would be lucky to have you on our roster next season."

"Oh my god. No way!"

You had been worried about next season as all the 2015 series were nearing their ends and you had yet to have been scouted by any teams. Your contract with Mücke Motorsport was coming to an end after this season but now you had been offered a seat in the next level of racing, at the same team your brother was in talks with, no less.

"Oh, this is great! Lando and I will still be on the same team. You know, my brother and I have always walked about being on the same F1 team. That would be crazy, obviously, but this is just like that but on a smaller scale."

"We'd not be giving your brother a seat."

Your excitement was gone in an instant. "Sorry?"

"Lando wouldn't have the seat in Formula Renault. It would be yours, instead."

"You're offering me... my brother's seat."

"That is correct."

Just like that, you let your career die. "I don't want it, then."

The rep blinked at you. "What?"

"Give the seat to Lando. He's who you want. He's the better driver. He has always finished before me."

"He would not have if you were not defending his position. Josef Kaufmann would rather have you driving for them next year."

"I don't want the seat. Give it to Lando. I was planning on quitting racing, anyway. Sign Lando for next year. He'll do well for you."

.

"Y/N, what the actual fuck?"

You ducked your head. "Don't blow it out of proportion."

"You gave away you entire racing career at the drop of a hat because you didn't want to take a seat that I hadn't even been signed for yet? You— Why would you do that?"

"Because you're my brother."

Behind Lando, Max was staring at you, wide-eyed. All around the table, your family openly stared at you in shock, not quite able to believe the real reason you had suddenly dropped out of racing.

The reason you had given was that you had gotten bored of it. That you had only ever gotten into it because of Lando. That you didn’t want to constantly be in competition with your brother. That when Lando got famous, you didn’t want to be his lesser racing counterpart.

There may have been some truth in those excuses but the whole truth was this: you had been offered the seat Lando was negotiating for and you would not take it from him. You loved racing; you did not love it more than you loved your brother.

“Y/N, I… I honestly don’t even know what to say.”

“You could start with an apology,” Max offered.

“To both of us,” you added.

Max leaned back in his chair. “I’m good back here. Worry about me later.”

“No, she’s right,” Lando said. “I’ve been a real dick to both of you over the last few weeks. You guys didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve always had Max as my chosen best friend and you, Y/N, as my built in best friend but then you guys started getting closer. Then, I found out you’re together and it’s like, what do you need me for if you have each other?”

Any anger you may have been holding onto melted into sympathy. “Aw, Lando—“

“You are so fucking thick, mate,” Max cut in. “You think I’m going to treat my girlfriend the same way I treat your dumbass? I need a platonic best friend just as much as I need a romantic one.”

You laughed at the face Lando pulled.

“If you start referring to us as your platonic and romantic best friends, I’m fleeing to Monaco again.”

“It’s too late. It’s already started, platonic best friend.”

“Eugh, this is terrible. Go back to being awkward acquaintances, please.”

“I love her, mate. There’s no going back from that.”

You loved Max. Wholly and truly you did. How well he got along with Lando was just the icing on the cake, another thing to add onto the list of reasons you were stupidly in love with him.

Your lovesick expression must have been quite obvious because suddenly Lando was shoving your head to the side with a hand over your face.

“Oh my god, don’t look at him like that—I’m gonna barf.”

(Oliver had gone back to his food.

Cisca was still watching, confused. “Wait, so Y/N and Max have been dating for eleven months and not even Lando knew? Why?”

“Apparently, it was an oversight.”

Flo speared an asparagus. “This is better than any TV show I’ve watched all year.”

“You’re enjoying this too much,” Oliver said.

“I’m the only one enjoying this the correct amount. I’ve been waiting for Lando to stop cockblocking Y/N and Max since 2014. I am allowed to be entertained by their drama.”)

“Can we circle back to the whole quit racing because of Lando thing?” Max asked, “Because what the fuck, babe?”

“You quit racing, too!”

“Because I was burnt out, not because I would rather throw my entire career away than make my brother momentarily unhappy while other teams jumped at the opportunity to sign him up.”

“It’s fine! I mean, look at where Lando is now. Season number five of Formula One! It all worked out in the end.”

.

“Are you really okay with us being together?”

You stood outside with Lando and Max after dinner had finished up. Your parents were loading the dishwasher, Oliver was driving off down the street, and Flo was finishing up doing something with Cisca inside. The three of you were finally able to talk privately.

Lando was quiet for a while after your question. He still seemed a little hesitant but it wasn’t anywhere near how he had reacted in the hotel. He glanced down at where you were holding Max’s hand, then looked away, still thinking.

“You’re not allowed to have sex while I’m in the flat,” is what Lando eventually decided on saying.

Max, unimpressed, said, “It’s a bit late for that, mate.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, covering your face with your hands.

Lando yelled his displeasure quite loudly. Max just laughed at him, not at all apologetic.

Even if your face was burning, at least you knew things would be okay. You had your brother back. Max had his best friend back. And Lando had both of you back.

The three of you were messy and intertwined but you would be okay.

[iwaasfairy]

kenma IS a twink. but hes my twink <333

anywayss love the idea, fairyyyyy. i adore your juicy big brain

tw incest, voyeurism, dubcon, virg!kuroo can’t catch a fucking break I wanna keep writing this but it’ll have to be in a different ask

wc. 1.9k

kozume kenma x fem!reader x kuroo tetsuro

“It’s really not a big deal,” Kenma assures him again as he forces his normally blank face to show an ounce of understanding, something like a smile painted on his lips. “She won’t mind.” His long, slender fingers wrap around the door handle to push down without knocking — shoving the door to swing wide with a clean arc and reveal the slightly messy, but clean, fresh room. It isn’t obvious upon first glance that a girl lives here. At least not in the overtly girly way, a far cry from all the frilly, pink overly curated rooms he imagined being invited into when he was a teen boy in the midsts of high school.

This is the room of someone a little more grown, with books and candles and pillows with blankets stacked upon an overly thick mattress. A bed you’re sat on the edge of, scrolling through your song playlist when they barge in and your head snaps over your shoulder to make you put on a pout. “Niichan, don’t just come in! Knock first! I ask you a million times,” you snap, putting the phone down to let your gaze shift to the taller man by his side.

Kuroo’s eyes can’t help but slip down the thin camisole you’re wearing, plain undies and exposed legs as you uncross them. You’ve got the overly girly thing down in the way you lean onto one arm though, and the way your lips jutt out do something weird to the base of his skull. Tickle, send heat downward. “I could be naked, niisan.” You say it pointedly, stare at Kenma a bit longer than is necessary.

Something unspoken sits in his friend’s eyes.

After a moment, you push yourself up more to raise your eyebrows and turn your chest to face them both. And your big brother messily scratches under the tiny ponytail that’s tied in his hair, before going to sit on the other side of your bed. “Kuroo has something he wants to ask you.”

His tongue sits too fat in his own mouth. Your pretty eyes flick up to his where he still stands in the doorway, and instead of dismissing them both like he kind of expects you to, you turn around completely and put both feet out onto the bed so your toes basically brush Kenma’s thigh. Who absentmindedly strokes your shin as cat-like eyes point up. Kuroo’s always been pretty easy to get along with, talkative enough to do it for the both of them. A natural way with people, or something.

This is entirely different. Here, he’s made a spectacle, two matching gazes studying him as he tries to chuckle. He’s eyed down as he walks three big steps forward to reach the bed, and slowly lets himself sink into the plush covers too.

He wasn’t always crushing on you like he is now. You were a bit of a little tike when he was still in high school, ran too hot for proper girly clothes and liked sitting in your pjs on the couch as they gamed. It’s entirely different now that you’ve been away a few years from college and walk around the shared apartment in shirts that barely cover your ass when you make breakfast. Hickeys blooming all over your throat and collar and up your thighs that he always ends up catching a glimpse of when you bend at the waist and your skirts slide up enough to reveal the curve of your ass.

He was sure it wouldn’t bother him as much to live with a girl. It’s different for your brother. He doesn’t have to notice. To Kuroo, you’re not any girl, and the way your tits rise and fall in those stupid little things you wear is making it too hard. Him, too hard, too.

As he chews on his words trying to find the right ones, you lull your head to the side cutely.

“Come out with it already, you two perverts.” You don’t mean it judging by the mirth in your eyes, but it still makes him fluster. Can’t help himself, giving Kenma a desperate glance to please help him out. You click your tongue. “Seriously… I was just about to go to bed.”

Kenma’s thin brows furrow slightly. “You can rub your little pussy later, can’t you?”

He almost chokes on his spit. The heat burns up his neck as he watches how Kenma wraps a hand around your wrist to keep you in place, and your mouth drops open. That’s not— he wasn’t gonna— your reaction baffles him too. Instead of getting ashamed at having your sexual proclivities discussed by your brother, you only give him a little sneer, and grab his wrist back so you’re both clinging to each other. There’s a little glitter in your eyes when you pout, then get onto your knees to get a bit closer to your big brother.

Close enough to lift yourself over him and straddle his lap. “Don’t be a pervert in front of your friend, nii—chan.” You chastise, but in a soft admittance sort of way that doesn’t sound all that sorry, or apologetic. “Don’t talk about my pussy either.”

“It’s fine.” You get so close that Kenma has to let go of your arm to instead wrap both arms around the small of your waist as he gets nose to nose with you — and Kuroo admittedly struggles to process anything. Your ass is planted right on Kenma’s lap who’s only wearing some boxers, and if it was him… he can’t think too hard about if it was him because he can feel himself start to stir in his own sweats. Kenma basically brushes lips with yours, before he straightens up to pull you closer. “Why do you think I’m here?”

“You,” your breathing hitches, and now your cheeks start getting hot when Kenma moves below you, “you haven’t told me yet.” Moves- below you? Yeah, Kuroo’s sure he can see Kenma roll his hips against your barely clad body. What the fuck. “Stop doing that.” You’re whining, and looking away from them both, before Kenma casts a glance over your shoulder to watch his friend. First Kuroo, and then the way he’s very uncomfortably trying to hide his chubbing cock by planting his hand in front of it into the blankets.

“Aren’t you gonna ask her?” Kenma asks. Hands sliding lower to grip both sides of the meat of your ass, obviously squeezing his fingers into it.

“Yeah- I- I uhm,” you make an effort to look back at him, so sweet, polite, but his attention is dragged to the way your panties are pulling around the globes of your ass and he swears he can see a wet patch starting to stain your undies where they cling to your pussy. And he’s really trying so hard, “Kenma thought -Kenma thought that I should ask you if you want- or not want-” Sweat prickles at his collar, as he stares resolutely into your pretty eyes and nowhere else.

“What he meant to ask,” Kenma helps out, hiking you up a little higher to basically press his cheek to yours when he places his chin on your shoulder, “-and stop grinding for a second- he’s already noticed you’re a bit of a sex fiend. Keep having your brains fucked out and moan like a whore through the walls and it’s keeping him up.”

Your face scrunches like you’re being treated entirely unfairly, a look shooting to your brother out of the corner of your eyes— but he refuses to let you go. “What the hell, niichan… you’re such a- you’re so mean, you freak.” Your eyes go all big and teary and flustered when you catch Tetsuro’s, and the way you stare at him with a mix of embarrassment and guilt is hot too. He’s not sure what’s happening. These last five minutes have been a blur. Why are you in Kenma’s lap in the first place? “D’you just bring Kuroo here to embarrass me or what?” You ask, voice pinched.

“-That’s not it, I swear.” Kuroo quickly chants, reaches out to grab your balled hand to rub a comforting hand over it. He lets go quick enough not to be overstepping, he hopes. He wants you to like him, if anything. Wasn’t that why Kenma dragged him here? “Don’t cry, please. You know Kenma doesn’t mean it.”

Kenma looks barely bothered at your distress, but does place a quick kiss on your neck and your collarbone. “We can tell him the whole truth now, I think.”

Kuroo watches how you push yourself back against Kenma’s face with two hands and drop back into the bed, thighs spread and wet, sticky panties clinging to your folds exactly like he imagined, and it makes his cock twitch. Hard cock, annoyingly pressing against the fabric of his boxers and feeling so fucking obvious in his sweats. It doesn’t really register that well that you’re wet from rubbing yourself in your big brother’s lap, only that you look weirdly adorable sucking up your tears to grimace. “I’m not telling anyone anything.”

Kenma’s hard too. He only notices it because Kenma doesn’t make any attempt to hide the way he shifts himself up in his boxers and stares you down too, eyes lingering on the way your tits rise and fall as you breathe. “You’re cute,” he adds, before eyeing Kuroo. It’s about just as embarrassing to be caught staring by him, as how his cock twitches again at the way you mewl at the praise. What the fuck is happening? Kenma’s smile when he glances back down at you is so sickeningly sweet and genuine, trailing fingers over your panties and sliding the camisole up to reveal more marks. “Y’see, Kuroo, my little sister isn’t actually some slut. These are mine.”

The room feels much too tight for three people to fit.

“When she’s moaning like that, that’s because I’m fucking her good, like she wants. Begs for it.” You look away embarrassed, place both hands on your face as you place a foot on Kenma’s hip and push a little, and your big brother grabs your ankle to push your knee back to your chest. “Don’t get so shy. I’m right.”

“Tetsuro didn’t know that though,” he wants to melt at the way you say his name. “Don’t be so casual about it. Pervert.”

“He doesn’t care.” Kenma assures back, and Kuroo suddenly feels like he needs to prove different. He stands from the bed to stare at you both, but that’s about as far as he gets. He’s so hard, and gobsmacked, and he feels like he might pass out from the heat that’s running through him. “He came in here to ask you to fuck him too, you know. That’s why he’s hard. Got hard thinking of your little, sweet, brotherfucking pussy.” Kenma’s only adding oil to the fire when he rubs his fingers through the mess hidden by your slicked undies, and making you shudder.

Your eyes find his again, now upside down from the way you’re leaned back in bed. “You’re quiet, Tetsuro.” You’re not nearly as shocked by Kenma’s statements as he expects you to be, so it must not be new. Fuck, how long have you two been doing this? Every time he heard you mewling whispers through the wall, moaning and the bed creak, stroking his cock in a cold sweat… wishing it was him. He barely mustered up the courage to ask, when Kenma cornered him about his crush.

Your mouth’s so pretty when you form the sounds of his name. “What do you want to do, Tetsuro?”

[midnightorchids]

I love you and your writing. It makes me so happy to read your works!

Imagine Jason having his s/o move in with him. Imagine all the possibilities.

Like arranging the furniture together, showering together, taking turns cooking.

Or taking power naps together. I love me some soft Jason.

Omg stop!!! You’re literally so kind! Thank you for sending all these little scenarios, I always have so much fun writing them. Also, my apologies for getting back to you so late, I hope this little blurb makes up for it, enjoy reading!

Jason stares at the small key in his large calloused hands and then at charcoal door in front of him. This is it, he thinks to himself. He runs his hands through his hair and then shifts his gaze to your face, it’s beaming with excitement. Jason tries to hold back his smile, but finds himself unable to do so. He reaches over to your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.

He’s waited for this moment for a long time. He’s dreamt of owning a place with you, of days where the both of you will go to sleep together and you’ll still be there in the morning. He’s dreamt of making you breakfast and kissing your forehead before you go to work or school and then have you come right back home… to him.

Jason’s emotional honestly, there’s something so tender and domestic about the idea of building a life together in this apartment.

The apartment, it’s not very big and the walls are an awful shade of grey. The paint is chipping in some places and there’s some obvious water damage. But none of that matters because it’s yours. It’s your home and that thought alone is enough for you and Jason to be happy.

You’re both sitting in the empty kitchen, unpacking your boxes and Jason can imagine spending the rest of his life here with you.

He takes a mental picture of the moment, tucking it deep in his mind and engraving it in his heart. He hasn’t been able to stop smiling since he walked in through the door, he feels content, at peace.

You and Jason spent weeks scavenging through different vintage shops to find the perfect decor and furniture. There were countless trips to Ikea and multiple trips to the mall.

All of it was coming together now.

The thought of saying “our home” instead of “my house” made Jason feel giddy. He finally had a place to call his own with a person who felt like serenity.

Hours go by and you’re still working on getting your new place sorted.

You’re both sprawled out on the living room floor, putting together your new coffee table. There’s screws scattered across the floor and bubble wrap on the couch. There’s music playing on one of your phones as the speaker is still packed away in one of the boxes.

“This is so much fun! It’s like building life size legos,” Jason suddenly exclaims and you stare at him unamused, the hours of working finally catching up to you.

“Shut up Jay! You’re talking too much, I lost my page again,” you reply looking back at the paper manual in your hands, trying to find your page again. Jason looks up at you with a small pout.

“Don’t be mean, you know I’m sensitive,” he tries to say seriously, but the little smile on his face says otherwise. you shuffle over to his side on the floor and ruffle his hair.

“Aw I’m sorry baby, I’ll be nicer,” you say, realizing it might be time to take a break. “Should we postpone building furniture for a bit, I’m starving.” His face lights up and before you know it, he’s already in the kitchen gathering ingredients to make you soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. There’s not much in the fridge, but he’ll make do with what’s there.

You stare at him from across the room and this time, it’s your turn to click a mental photograph of the moment. He looks beautiful in your new kitchen, his hair’s messy, it’s in his eyes and he takes a second to push away the bangs. Then, he continues working away near the stove, humming along to the song playing on your phone. You can’t help, but admire him. You look forward to seeing him like this forever.

You make your way over to the kitchen and take a seat on the island counter, opposite to the stove. Jason tosses the final bit of ingredients in the pot and lets everything simmer. He looks over at you, leaning against the counter. He crosses his large arms against his body, his face soft and relaxed.

“I’m really happy, you know,” he says, grinning, and you scrunch your face into a big smile.

“I know Jay, I’m so happy too.”

[nilpill]

Sort of Mine

dad!leon x daughter!reader

!!! - 18+, age gap, dead dove do not eat, incest, p in v, daughter is a bit of a cunt, guilty dad leon, panties in mouth, idk blah blah blah

WC - 4.3k

note - title is from the song sort of mine by heavenly! this is my first fic so there is progress to be made. as mentioned, there is incest in this fic so if that is not your thing, please continue on with your day or just block. also thank u sm to d beloved wife @ivmp for reading this for me on multiple occasions bcs i didn't know wtf i was reading myself LMAO. also if it feels rushed... that's bcs it was... i swear i will do better next time LOLOL

The clock strikes 1:30 AM, and you're startled awake by the sound of keys jingling and the door opening and closing. Dad was out late again, probably trying to get in another woman's pants back at the bar. He’s so desperate it makes you feel bad for the guy, really, but at the same time, it irritates you. Dad’s the only man you’d ever need in your life, so shouldn’t his sweet daughter be more than enough for him? Obviously not if he’s too busy chasing girls in an attempt to move on from your whore of a mother

But poor daddy, no one wants a single dad who looks like he’s gone through hell and back. It’s a shame, though, because dad is really handsome and has the sweetest personality ever. Oh, and that body of his is to die for. You would do anything to die under him while he was– You shake your head to get rid of the thought, climbing out of bed and softly padding down the stairs and towards the entrance of your home, greeting him with a small smile as you go up to hug him.

“Hey, kiddo,” he softly speaks, his arms lazily wrapping you as you cling to him. “What’re you doing awake? It's late.”

“I just woke up; you’re not exactly quiet when you come home,” you murmured, pulling away to look up at him.

“Well, maybe you’re a little too light of a sleeper,” He jokes, pinching your cheek affectionately. Dad lets out a long, tired sigh, shrugging off his suit jacket and tossing it on the coat hook.

It was clear this day took a toll on him because he of messy hair, and his eyes looked darker than usual. It was an appearance you were all too familiar with seeing from him by this point.

Dad steps out of his shoes before walking further into the house and over towards the living room couch, flopping down onto it and letting out a deep, weary sigh. You sit down beside him, studying the exhausted look on his face as he turns his head to regard you in a silent manner.

“You look like shit, dad… you should go to bed.”

“Thanks for the observation,” He replies, letting the hint of sarcasm lace his tone. “I’ve already had a stressful day at work; the last thing I need right now is a smart-ass kid,” He grumbles, draping an arm around your shoulders to pull you close to his side.

Leon leans his head down and rests it against the top of yours, his thumb subtly rubbing against your shoulder in slow, gentle drags.

Your nose picks up a faint, feminine scent of perfume mixed in with your dad's natural musk and the faint hint of alcohol when you move closer to adjust your seating next to him. It was a familiar scent that you recognized as your perfume. The more it registers in your head, the more you connect the dots in your head that dad must’ve tried to get with another woman.

That knowledge has you quietly fuming on the inside, and that feeling of possessiveness has you shifting your body to press against him even more. He glances over at you and sees that you have a slightly disapproving look on your face, causing him to let out a quiet huff.

You didn't know that he only went for her due to the scent reminding him of you, silly girl.

“What’s wrong, princess?” He probes, rubbing your shoulder even more. “You’re makin’ a face,” he mumbles to you lowly, his large hands reaching up to gently cup your face.

"Nothin'," you grumbled under your breath with a slight eye roll.

Leon’s lips quirk into a slight frown as he listens to your answer. It was clear to him that you were lying through your teeth now, and he gently rubbed his thumbs in small, soft circles on your cheeks, silently pleading with you to be honest with him.

“You’re a terrible liar, know that?” he murmurs disapprovingly, his thumbs gently pulling your cheeks down to make you pout.

“Dad, knock it off; you know I hate it when you do that… makes me feel like a kid.”

“Well, you are a kid. My little girl,” he replies, tugging on your pouting cheeks once more before letting out a heavy sigh, giving up now. He pulls his hands off your face to instead wrap them around your torso, pulling you more against his side.

“Now tell me, what’s buggin’ you?”

"Dad, I can't, like- ugh, seriously, I shouldn't."

“Shouldn’t what?” He questions, pulling his head away to look at you with confusion. “You can tell me anything, baby. You know that.” He softly reminds you, his gaze roaming over your face with concern.

You sighed heavily as you gathered the courage to tell him the truth before finally speaking up. "I just don't like how you go and meet with other girls, dad. I mean, I'm here, aren't I? You don't need them..." you managed to say, your gaze avoiding his.

His hold on you loosens for a moment, his body shifting so that he’s facing you fully now. He doesn’t say anything momentarily, quietly taking your words with surprise. He looks a little speechless, which is ironic as he’s usually the one running his mouth.

“Kid,” he softly begins, gently grabbing your chin to make you look at him. He notices you glance away as you speak, and his brows furrow as he studies your face.

“You-” Leon stops himself for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts before continuing. “That’s not how it works, sweetheart. I’m a man, and I have needs.”

“I know, and I can help-”

You manage to say those words before his eyes widen, and he quickly clamps his hand over your mouth, cutting off the rest of your statement. You can see the shock on his face now as he stares at you.

“Jesus Christ, kid, you can’t just say stuff like that.” He tells you with a firm tone, his face a mix of surprise and a bit of horror now.

You frown as you pull back the hand on your mouth by his wrist, eagerly leaning forward as you are about to climb onto his lap. “Dad, come on, please…?”

He leans back on the couch, his eyes wide as you push toward his lap and begin to climb onto him. “H-Hey, what are you-“ He stutters, trying to keep his body from reacting as you begin to straddle his thighs.

"I'm a good daughter, aren’t I? I just wanna help you with your needs, daddy... I wanna make you happy, and I will, I promise. You just have to let me."

Your words manage to render him utterly speechless as you look up at him with big, pleading eyes. He stares at you with wide, shocked eyes, trying to process what you are saying to him.

“Kid-“ he tries to speak, his brain trying to find words, but they all stay stuck in his throat. “You can’t- I mean, you’re my little girl,” he manages to speak. “And you know you’re my little girl… this- this isn’t right,” He murmurs, his voice growing weary with each word.

Of course, he’s rejecting you. Dad has some morals, and it makes you question what the hell happened to yours. But hearing him protest against you causes you to roll your eyes, making you grow more irritated than you already were. "Oh, please..." You scoff, "Who else is going to give you attention? Not those women at the bar, that’s for sure.”

It was clear that your words were starting to affect him. The way you roll your eyes and your scoff is enough to make his eyes narrow down on you. Dad’s nostrils flare slightly while you speak, and his jaw is set tight as he responds.

“Damn it, kid, what’s gotten into you?” He snaps back, his hands gripping your hips to try to keep you at bay, but you’re starting to frustrate him with the way you were refusing to back down. “Jesus, princess, I can get attention from whoever the hell I want-“

“Except they don’t want you,” you bite back, your hands grabbing his shirt and balling them into fists. “They don’t want you like I do-” you continue, sitting on his lap fully now, your legs straddling his own. You can feel the way his body tenses underneath yours as you try to persuade him, and you let out a huff as he continues to reject you.

“Please, daddy,” you pout up at him, looking at him with pleading eyes. “I can make you feel so good if you just-“

“Dammit, kid…” He swears under his breath, trying to keep his eyes off you and at a respectable area. “You’re my baby girl…”

Your persistence is starting to be difficult to fight against, and it’s starting to piss him off how you’re so determined. You’re like a leech that stuck itself on him, and you refuse to let go. You’re starting to drive him crazy.

“I know I am, daddy, but I’m an adult too,” you reply, moving your hands from where they were on his chest and up towards his hair, letting your fingers run through the messy locks. You look up at him with pleading eyes, leaning closer and pressing against his chest more. “Can’t I take care of you like the big girl I am?”

His breath hitches at your touch, and it’s taking all the control in the world to keep his hands on your hips instead of letting them wander. Dammit, why does this feel so good? But he can’t let it go further. You’re his little girl; you’ve been his little girl since the day you were born. It doesn’t matter if you’re technically an adult now; you’ll always be his princess.

He tries to pull his head away from your hand, which is messing with his hair, but he’s unable to do so with his back pushed up against the couch. “This is so wrong… it’s-” he stutters out, his eyes drifting down to your figure on his lap, taking in the way your body looks pressed against his. “It’s so wrong, princess,” he mutters again, his hands on your hips subconsciously starting to grip tighter.

“How can it be wrong if I’m doing it?” You whisper to him, your hands trailing from his messy hair to his face, cupping his cheeks as you keep him in place. “I want to do this for you, daddy. Please, just let me make you feel good for once… you always do everything for me.”

He can feel his mind becoming fuzzy now, a small part weakening at your pleading looks and words. He was only a man, after all.

His hands on your hips start to dig into your flesh with bruising strength, but you don’t mind. Your eyes were too busy locked onto his and watching how his expression was slowly starting to change.

“Please, daddy, you don’t need other women,” you whine softly, your hands running down from his face to his muscular chest. You start unbuttoning his shirt slowly, your gaze looking down to watch as you unbutton each small button.

“You’ve got me right here. I’m better than all of them. I just want to make you happy,” you murmur, looking back up at him as you finish unbuttoning his shirt.

“Princess,” He mutters quietly, his hands finally starting to wander from your hips, slowly moving up your sides and towards the front of your body.

You were always such a good girl for your dad - the thought alone made him grin. He couldn't imagine himself as a perfect father in the past, but the gods had indeed blessed him with an absolute jewel of a daughter. Leon would often do whatever he could for you as long as it kept you happy.

One of your hands moves downwards from his chest to the front of his slacks, and with a quiet noise of surprise, his hand clamps on your wrist to stop it from reaching for his growing bulge, and his grip on your hip tightens as a warning.

You can see how he’s trying to hide his desire for you, his hand keeping a death grip on your wrist as you keep your palm flattened against the front of his slacks. You’re starting to drive him crazy with the way your body is pressing against him, and in response, you slowly grind down on him again, a low groan instantly leaving his lips as he squeezes your hips harder.

“Jesus, kid, you have to stop for a second-,” He grits out to you, his hands trying to still your hips again, but you feel his body start to lose focus. He’s starting to get too lost in the moment now. “-I can’t think when you-” He stops and lets out a sharp gasp as you rock your hips against him again, his grip loosening on your hips for a split second.

There was no way he was able to hide the way his breath stuttered when you started undoing his pants, and his hands that had been holding you still started roaming over your body more now. Both of his hands start roaming upwards, grabbing and fondling with your breasts under the thin material of your shirt. “Fuck…” He groans out, his hips subconsciously starting to roll up against you.

“This is-“ He stops for a moment and lets out a strained pant, “This is so wrong…we shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmurs, his hips continuing to roll up against you lazily.

His words contradict his actions, but you know that this moment was what the both of you secretly wanted. You bite your lip as you look at him, seeing the warring expressions all over his face as he tries to fight against your touch.

“Shhh, daddy,” you murmur, palming him through his boxers. He lets out a loud, shameless moan at your touch, his head falling back with his eyes shut. "You’re so touch-starved, aren't you? Just need your little girl to help you out, hm?"

The feeling of your hand palming him was driving him insane, and his body reacted accordingly to your touch, letting out quiet grunts and moans. He’d never admit it out loud, but you were right; he was touch starved. It had been a long time since he got to feel the touch of another woman… but never his sweet, innocent little girl.

A quiet hum left his lips as you moved your hand again, his eyes opening as he looked up at you. “This is bad, we can’t-”

“Oh my goddd,” you groan as you roll your eyes for the hundredth time that night, pushing off of him so you can pull your panties off and shove them into his mouth before settling back down onto his lap.

His brain takes a second to process the action, but when he realizes what you just did, he is at a complete loss for words. His eyes were wide as saucers, his mouth hung open wide, and his face was bright red as he stared at you in shock.

You were sure he would protest and pull the dampening material out from his mouth, but he didn’t. He was sitting there quietly, his chest rising and falling quickly as you sat back down on his lap, your body pressing up against his again.

His hands slowly grabbed your hips as you looked at him, your face leaning closer to his. He made a soft noise, his head tilting to the side as his eyes closed and a small puff of air left through his nose.

“You know I’d never hurt you… and you know I’d take such good care of you.” You coo softly to him, your hands trailing across his chest. “I know what you need, and I’ll give it to you…”

He was unable to speak with your panties shoved in his mouth, but all he could do was listen to you and nod. His eyebrows were furrowed as he looked at you through half-lidded eyes, panting and letting out small moans as he took his turn to grind up against you softly. He looked so helpless and so pent up. You’d always seen him tall and strong, someone unwavering and in charge. But god, seeing him like this was driving you wild… seeing him like this because of you was even better.

Your hands reach down to tug at his boxers, trying to move them down just enough to let him free. He lets out a frustrated-sounding noise, but once he feels you start to tug again in a more insistent way, his hands slowly pull your hips off of him. He leans forward to help you push his boxers, along with his pants, down to his thighs as he stares up at you with wide, pleading eyes.

He looked so desperate, his gaze boring into yours as he tried to convey just how helpless he felt. His head was falling forward to rest on your chest, and he made a noise against you, begging you to stop with the pathetic look on his face.

You knew he didn’t actually want you to stop; he was just whining to make himself feel less bad about this whole situation, but as long as he kept being good, you’d make sure to leave him feeling satisfied.

“You need this, don’t you? After all this time of not having someone?” You gently pull his head back by his hair so he’s looking at you.

He lets out a sound of agreement against the material in his mouth, his head nodding pathetically. His body started to move forward, his hands reaching to grab at you once more, trying to pull you closer to him. He was getting more desperate by the second, and he wanted to be as close to you as he possibly could.

You let out a soft chuckle as he tries to pull you back on top of him again. “Oh, so greedy now,” you tease him, grabbing his wrists to still his movements, but all he does in response is let out another pathetic noise, trying to squirm against your grip as his eyes pleading you to give in to his nonverbal requests.

You position his dick between your folds and slowly start to grind down against the length of him, letting your wetness coat his shaft, allowing his tip to repeatedly bump against your clit, and his body immediately responds as he lets out a muffled moan. He’s looking up at you with wide, pleading eyes. His eyes looked so cute like this; they were filled with a desperate, begging look as his mouth opened wide to let the panties fall from his mouth.

“Don’t worry, dad… I won't slip it in.” you softly assure him as you delicately caress his cheek, keeping the pace of your hips at a slow pace.

However, something snapped in him the moment you told him you wouldn’t slip it in, and his hands roughly grabbed your hips to force himself into you, causing you to cry out due to the sudden stretch that caused you pain.

“Fuck— princess, you can’t just tell me that after saying you’ll take care of me.” he groans, keeping a tight grip on your hips to hold you still as he thrusts up into you, not giving you a chance to adjust.

You sob out a moan as he roughly fucks himself into you, your nails raking down his chest in an attempt to ground yourself to gain control again, but you can’t.

He drops a hand down to harshly rub at your clit, earning another startled moan from you as he feels your body tremble in his grasp.

“Daddy loves you, princess," he murmurs, lips brushing against your skin as he presses a loving kiss to your temple. It was something he told you daily. But you had a feeling he meant it in a not-so-fatherly way.

You let out a whine as he suddenly pulls his thumb away. God, that whine. You're not making this easy for your poor dad, are you? The feeling of your wetness on his thumb makes him huff, a rumble coming from his chest as he presses his forehead against yours, bringing the digit to press into your mouth to let you suck on it.

He’s feeling possessive, just as you did, feeling like he wants to bite and mark you as all his - but with you this close, this sweet and wet, how can he just focus on that?

Well, actually, he could hardly focus. That same damn perfume on your skin has him feeling dizzy. The soft, sweet scent had reeled him in and left him feeling more intoxicated than the whiskey that was in his system earlier.

“My baby, my sweet darling girl, do you like being fucked by the same dick that made you?” he quietly whispers to you as he pulls his thumb away, watching the string of saliva snap.

You couldn’t let a single word slip past your lips, dumbly nodding as nothing but moans came from you as you turned into putty.

It’s kind of embarrassing how easily you melted in his hands, letting him mold you however he wants until he’s satisfied with the outcome.

Fuck, what was he supposed to do once this was over and came to terms with what he did?

He’s not too worried about that at the moment, though; his eyes are so trained on your expressions, and his head is only filled with the sounds of your moans. He’s so fixated on you that he doesn’t even notice the way you’re squeezing him so tight as you reach your orgasm.

The only thing that broke him from his trance is when he sees your tears gliding down your cheeks, realizing he drove you to overstimulation. The realization alone has his thrusts growing sloppy as he nears his own release, grunting and shaking as he cums hard inside of you, not even sparing a single thought to realize what he had just done.

He’s careful as he lifts you by your hips to pull himself out, watching the way his cum drips out of you with a low groan.

“Dad…” you whimpered, your body going lax against his chest as you struggled to come down from your orgasm.

He hums softly, his touch gentle and soothing as he runs his hand through your hair to help bring you back down to earth. “Dad’s here, kiddo… I got you.”

You both lay there in the afterglow, sweaty and spent as you lay on top of him. Both of his arms are wrapped around your midsection, holding you tightly against his chest, almost as if he never wanted to let you go again. Your head was tucked snugly into the crook of his neck as he gently moved to pull the blanket on the couch onto your bodies, his grip not loosening.

The house was silent, except for the sound of the both of you trying to catch your breaths and calm your racing hearts. Both of you stayed sitting there on the couch in a daze, not wanting to say anything and let reality sink in. All while your father softly placed sweet kisses on your forehead.

“Daddy?” you murmur against his skin, a small hand rubbing gently over his skin soothingly. “You ok?”

He lets out a shaky breath before answering you. “Yeah… yeah, I’m alright,” he whispers, placing another kiss on the top of your head. Leon’s arms wrap tightly around you as if trying to savor the moment a little longer.

The silence between the two of you was starting to feel awkward now, and the realization of what you both just did was finally setting in.

He lets out a deep breath, one of his hands rubbing slowly up and down your side as he tries to calm his breathing down even further. “I’m... I’m so sorry, kid,” he says, his voice a little broken. “I’m so sorry. I just- I don’t know what came over me, I just-”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok… it wasn’t your fault; I was the one who started it,” you murmur to him, gently silencing him before he can continue, a small hand moving to rub gently over his chest to soothe his racing anxiety. “We both wanted it… I knew you needed it, and I was more than willing to give it to you,” you reassure him, gently tracing over his muscles.

He takes a deep breath, his body slowly relaxing under your touch. “I’m sorry I was so rough at the end. I just… I lost my head for a moment, I was so caught up in that I didn’t even think-” He paused for a moment, pausing to take another deep breath before continuing. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

You shook your head, looking up at him with a sheepish smile. "It's ok, dad... I’m fine." you softly assured him, leaning forward to press a delicate kiss against his lips. "I love you.."

He sighs against your lips, his grip on you tightening again at your words. “I love you too, sweetheart… I love you so much.” He responds, pressing another kiss against your lips in return. He had a hard time believing that any of that had just happened, but there was no denying that it all felt too good to be a dream.

UM… I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE ORIGINAL POST LMFAOKAOAKWOW sorry guys 🙏 evil pill took over i fear