#the younger one bit me one time!! I don’t hold it against her at all; it was my fault

[my-chemical-rot]

Guys look at these babies

[pucksandpower]

Meant to Be

Charles Leclerc x Arthur’s girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Charles knows it’s wrong to fantasize about his younger brother’s childhood sweetheart … but he also knows that when the opportunity presents itself, he’ll do absolutely anything to make you his and his alone

Warnings: 18+ content, manipulation, somnophilia, and baby trapping

Arthur’s sprawled out on Charles’ couch, his legs kicked up over the armrest, a half-empty beer bottle dangling dangerously from his fingers. His cheeks are flushed, a sure sign that he’s had too much, and he’s in one of those moods — reckless, unguarded, talking too much.

Charles stands by the window, fingers tapping against the neck of his own beer. He’s watching Arthur with the kind of stillness that should set alarms off, except Arthur’s too drunk to notice.

“Six years.” Arthur’s voice breaks the silence, words slurring together. He lifts his head, eyes bleary and unfocused. “Six fucking years, and she still won’t let me touch her.”

Something sharp and ugly flares up in Charles’ chest. It’s quick, like a blade slicing through air — painful but over in an instant, leaving behind only a low, simmering anger. He takes a slow sip of his drink, savoring the way the cold beer burns down his throat, grounding him.

“You’re talking nonsense,” Charles says, tone deceptively calm. “Stop being dramatic.”

Arthur scoffs, shaking his head. He looks ridiculous — lips pulled down in a childish pout, eyes narrowing like he’s being unfairly judged. “You think I’m lying? I’m telling you the truth.” He sits up abruptly, the motion causing a bit of beer to splash onto the couch. He doesn’t notice. “She’s still … I don’t know, holding out or something. Makes me feel like I’m not good enough.”

Charles’ grip tightens around the bottle. “So what? You think she owes you something just because you’ve been together for a long time?”

“No, no, it’s not like that.” Arthur’s defensive, hands up in mock surrender. He’s shaking his head, but Charles sees right through it. “It’s just — what kind of relationship is this? I mean, I love her, but it’s like she’s keeping part of herself locked away from me. You wouldn’t get it.”

Oh, but Charles gets it. He gets it too well. That same fury, that same sense of being kept at arm’s length — he’s felt it for years. Watched you grow up beside Arthur, become this beautiful, untouchable thing that only Arthur could claim. Always the best friend, the girlfriend, the almost-but-not-quite.

“Maybe she’s just not ready,” Charles says softly. His voice is low, dangerous. He turns his back to the window, narrowing his eyes on Arthur. “Maybe you’re pushing too hard.”

Arthur laughs, the sound bitter and hollow. “You know me. I’m not pushing her at all. I’m just — fuck, I’m frustrated, okay? We’re supposed to be moving forward, but it’s like she’s … stuck.” He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I don’t want to wait around forever. What’s the point?”

Charles is moving before he realizes it, crossing the room in a few long strides until he’s standing right in front of Arthur. His shadow falls over his younger brother, the tension in the air crackling like static.

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Charles murmurs, voice tight. “She’s not some … milestone you have to hit. Maybe she doesn’t want to-”

“With me, you mean.” Arthur’s eyes meet Charles’, defiance simmering just beneath the surface. “Maybe she doesn’t want to sleep with me. Right? Maybe that’s what you’re thinking. That I’m not enough for her.”

Charles holds his gaze, unflinching. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

There’s a pause, charged and suffocating. Charles can feel the blood pounding in his ears, a dangerous thrill threading through his veins. He should shut this down, diffuse the situation before it escalates, but some twisted part of him wants Arthur to keep going. He wants to hear it. Every insecurity, every frustration, every ugly piece of truth.

“Why are you telling me this?” Charles asks finally, his voice deceptively calm. “What do you expect me to say?”

“I don’t know.” Arthur slumps back against the couch, looking defeated. “Maybe I just needed to get it off my chest. It’s like … I feel like I’m going crazy. Everyone else is moving forward, and I’m just stuck here, waiting for her to catch up.”

Charles takes a deep breath, forcing himself to stay composed. He shouldn’t feel this satisfaction, this possessive pleasure at hearing Arthur’s struggle. It’s wrong. It’s twisted. But it’s there, coiling tight in his chest.

“And if she never catches up?” Charles asks quietly. “What then?”

Arthur shrugs, looking away. “I don’t know. Maybe we’re just not meant to be, you know?”

The words hang heavy in the air, and Charles feels something dark and vicious settle inside him. He’s been waiting for this — years of watching from the sidelines, of biting back his own desires because you were always with Arthur. Always just out of reach.

But if Arthur’s doubting — if Arthur’s thinking of letting go …

Charles clenches his jaw, forcing himself to speak evenly. “You’re drunk. You shouldn’t be talking about this right now.”

Arthur snorts. “Maybe. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” He pauses, glancing up at Charles with a look that’s almost pleading. “What would you do? If you were me, what would you do?”

The question catches Charles off-guard, a cold laugh escaping his lips before he can stop it. “If I were you?” He leans down slightly, voice dropping to a low murmur. “I wouldn’t be here, complaining to my brother like a pathetic idiot. I’d be with her, figuring it out. Doing whatever it takes to make her happy.”

“Yeah?” Arthur mutters, his voice cracking slightly. “Even if it means waiting forever?”

Charles straightens, something resolute and steely hardening in his chest. He looks down at Arthur, gaze cold and unyielding. “If you love her, you wait.”

Arthur looks away, shoulders slumping. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I just — forget it. I’m talking bullshit.”

But Charles doesn’t forget. He stands there, watching Arthur fall silent, mind spinning with a thousand possibilities. He can’t let anyone else have you, not even Arthur. Especially not Arthur. He knows it’s wrong, knows it’s sick, but he can’t shake the image of you — untouched, unspoiled, something pure and perfect that only he deserves to claim.

Charles forces a smile, dropping a hand onto Arthur’s shoulder. “Go to bed. Sleep it off.”

Arthur nods, muttering something unintelligible as he pushes himself up and stumbles towards the guest room. Charles waits until the door closes behind him before letting out a long, shuddering breath.

He should feel guilty. But all he feels is a fierce, possessive resolve. Arthur’s doubt is his opportunity. His chance to take what’s always been denied to him.

His gaze drifts to his phone on the coffee table. A single message — an excuse, really — and you’d be here, sitting on his couch, looking at him with that soft, trusting smile. Like he’s someone you can rely on. Like he’s someone safe.

Safe. Charles laughs quietly, the sound bitter and mocking. Safe is the last thing he is right now.

He picks up the phone, thumb hovering over your contact name, and hesitates. Not yet. He needs a plan. Needs to be smart about this.

But one way or another, he’s going to be your first. Your only. Arthur’s hesitation has given him the opening he’s been waiting for.

All he has to do now is make his move.

***

Charles parks the car a little down the street from your apartment, his hands gripping the steering wheel tight as he stares at the dashboard. The engine is off, the keys dangling in the ignition, but he hasn’t moved. Not yet.

He’s thinking.

He’s been thinking all night, really — ever since Arthur stumbled off to bed, leaving Charles alone with his thoughts. Thoughts that spiraled, dark and hungry, circling the idea that’s been gnawing at him for years. How close he is now. How one small push could tip the balance in his favor.

And today, he’s ready to push.

In the passenger seat sits a box of pizza from that place you love, the one he knows you always order from on Fridays after a long week. There’s a bottle of wine in the backseat too, the kind you once told him was your favorite, when you were still just Arthur’s girlfriend, still so impossibly out of reach.

Charles grabs the pizza, slides out of the car, and walks to your building with measured steps. Each one feels deliberate, calculated, as if he’s forcing himself to maintain control. But inside, his thoughts are a frenzy.

It’s easy enough to get inside the building. You gave him the door code months ago, back when things were still … uncomplicated. Before his obsession became something he couldn’t contain.

As he rides the elevator up, Charles lets out a slow, steadying breath. He can do this. He will do this.

When you open the door, the surprise on your face is immediate but quickly melts into warmth. Your eyes light up, and you smile — God, you smile at him like he’s your favorite person in the world. Like you trust him.

“Charles!” You exclaim, stepping forward and pulling him into a hug before he can say a word. You wrap your arms around his neck, and he feels that familiar jolt, the one that always comes when you’re this close. “What are you doing here? This is a surprise.”

He hugs you back, holding you a second too long before he pulls away. He lifts the pizza box with a sheepish grin, the one he knows you always fall for. “Thought you might be hungry. Brought your favorite.”

Your eyes widen slightly, and you laugh, that soft sound that always makes him feel like you’re letting him in on a secret. “You didn’t have to do that, but I’m not complaining.” You step aside, gesturing for him to come in. “Come on, I was just thinking about ordering food.”

He follows you into the apartment, closing the door behind him. It’s small, cozy — the kind of place that feels lived in, full of your personality. He’s been here before, but tonight it feels different. Tonight, he’s here for a reason.

You grab plates while Charles sets the pizza on the table, and then you settle in. Conversation is easy, natural. You ask him about his week, tell him about yours, and the rhythm of it all is so familiar that for a second, Charles almost forgets why he’s really here.

But then he watches you take another sip of wine, and something inside him snaps back into focus. You’ve had just enough to soften the edges, to make you more open, more vulnerable.

Now’s the time.

“I’ve got something I need to talk to you about,” Charles says, leaning back in his chair. His voice is low, careful. He watches your expression shift, the way your brow furrows slightly as you put your glass down.

“Something serious?” You ask, your tone shifting from playful to curious, maybe even a little concerned.

Charles nods, the weight of his next words pressing down on him. He almost hates what he’s about to say. Almost. But the thought of losing you to Arthur — again, after all these years — drives him forward.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he starts, choosing his words deliberately. “You know I care about you. A lot.”

Your frown deepens, and you sit up straighter. “Charles, what is it? You’re scaring me.”

He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. “It’s Arthur.”

You blink, confusion flashing across your face. “Arthur? What about him?”

There’s a beat of silence, and Charles watches your face carefully, gauging every reaction. He needs to be precise here, needs to strike the right balance between concern and truth.

“I wish I didn’t have to be the one to tell you this,” he says quietly, voice soft but steady. “But you deserve to know.”

“Know what?” Your voice is more tense now, on edge. You’re bracing yourself.

Charles looks down at the table for a moment, pretending to struggle with his words, to hesitate. Then, with a carefully measured sigh, he meets your gaze.

“Arthur’s cheating on you.”

Your reaction is instant — disbelief, followed by a laugh that’s more of a reflex than anything. You shake your head, the idea not even sinking in before you’re dismissing it outright. “Charles, come on. That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking.”

You freeze, staring at him like he’s said something that doesn’t compute. “What are you talking about? Arthur would never — he’s not that kind of guy. He — he loves me.”

Charles leans forward, his eyes locking onto yours, unflinching. “I know you don’t want to believe it. Trust me, I hate having to tell you this. But I’ve seen it. He’s been … seeing someone else.”

You blink rapidly, shaking your head again, more violently this time. “No. No, that doesn’t make any sense. Why would he do that? We’ve been together for six years, Charles. We’re-”

“I know,” Charles cuts in, voice low and firm. “But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s happening.”

You stare at him, searching his face for any sign that this is some kind of twisted joke. But all you find is a steady, unwavering resolve. And it hits you, hard — he’s serious.

The first tear spills over before you can stop it. You swipe at it quickly, shaking your head, still trying to deny it. “No. You’re wrong. He wouldn’t … he wouldn’t do that to me.”

Charles watches you, his heart pounding in his chest, but he stays calm. He has to see this through. “I wish I were wrong. I really do. But I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this.”

You press your palms to your temples, shaking your head again and again, like you can somehow shake off the weight of his words. “Why? Why would he …”

“He’s an idiot,” Charles says quietly, his voice softening just enough. He reaches across the table, placing a hand over yours. “He doesn’t see what he has with you. He doesn’t appreciate you the way he should.”

You pull your hand away, standing abruptly from the table and pacing the small space of your living room. “This doesn’t make any sense. He’s been … he’s been distant lately, but I just thought it was work or something. He wouldn’t-”

Charles stands too, his movements slow and deliberate. “I wish I could tell you there’s some explanation, but … sometimes people just make stupid choices. It doesn’t make it your fault.”

The tears are falling freely now, and you wipe at them furiously, like you’re angry at yourself for crying. “I don’t believe you. I can’t believe you. Arthur wouldn’t do that to me.”

Charles steps closer, his chest tightening at the sight of your tears. He hates seeing you hurt, but some part of him — some twisted, possessive part — revels in this. In being the one you turn to, the one you fall apart in front of. Because this is his chance. His moment.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, reaching out to pull you into his arms.

You don’t resist. You’re too overwhelmed, too broken by the weight of what he’s telling you. You collapse against him, your face buried in his chest as the sobs start to shake your frame.

Charles wraps his arms around you, holding you tight, his hand moving slowly up and down your back. “Shh, it’s okay,” he whispers into your hair, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Your sobs only deepen, and Charles feels his pulse quicken. There’s something intoxicating about the way you cling to him, like he’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely.

“I didn’t want to tell you,” he says, voice low and soothing, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along your spine. “But you deserve to know the truth. You deserve better than him.”

You don’t respond, just keep crying into his chest, and Charles holds you tighter, his grip firm and possessive. He’s in control now. He’s the one you trust, the one you’re turning to.

And he’s not going to let you go.

“Shh,” he murmurs again, his voice a soft coo as he continues to run his hand down your back. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”

He presses his lips to your hair again, his chest swelling with a dark, possessive satisfaction.

This is where you belong.

With him.

***

Charles tightens his hold on you as your sobs weaken, though they still come in shaky, uneven breaths. He keeps his chin resting gently on top of your head, his fingers stroking slow circles along your back, coaxing you into some semblance of calm. Each wet gasp, each tremble from you presses deeper into him, a reminder of just how fragile you are right now — how close you are to breaking.

And you are his to fix.

“I can’t believe …” you start, your voice muffled against his chest, thick with tears. You take a shuddering breath and pull back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes, though your gaze is glazed and unfocused. “I can’t believe I was … I was going to let him …” Another sob catches in your throat, and you lower your head again, pressing your palms against your eyes as if to block out the thought.

Charles feels something stir in him, deep and raw. His breath catches. He knows what you’re about to say. He’s waited for this moment for so long.

“I thought I was ready,” you whisper between tears, each word slipping out in a jagged edge. “I really thought I was ready. I was going to … I was finally going to give him everything. And he — he doesn’t even care. I was going to let him take everything from me.”

Charles’ jaw tightens. His arms encircle you even more, as if he can shield you from the pain and the reality of it all. But behind that protective front, something inside him twists darkly. Arthur was going to be the one. The one to touch you first, to take what should never have belonged to anyone else.

The thought alone makes his stomach churn, but he forces his voice to remain steady, soft, as he leans in closer, his lips brushing the top of your head. “You don’t need to think about that now,” he murmurs, gently rocking you as your body shakes against him. “Arthur didn’t deserve you. He never did.”

You sniffle, lifting your head again, your eyes glassy and red. “But I thought … I thought we were going to-” You break off, biting your lip hard enough that it must hurt, your hands twisting in his shirt. “I thought I was finally ready to-” Another sob wracks through you, and you look down, as if ashamed of the words you can’t quite bring yourself to say aloud.

Charles feels a rush of anger — not at you, but at the mere suggestion that Arthur was close to having what only he should be worthy of. The idea that his brother, clueless and careless, almost had you, had almost been the first to touch you like that, makes something primal flare up inside him.

But he doesn’t let it show. Not yet.

Instead, he tilts your chin up gently, guiding your eyes back to his. His expression is soft, understanding, but underneath it, there’s that edge. The simmering need for control, for possession, for you.

“Listen to me,” he says, his voice low but firm. “Arthur would not have deserved something like that from you. He doesn’t appreciate you — he doesn’t even know how to treat you right.”

You open your mouth to argue, but all that comes out is a half-choked sound, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “I was going to give him … everything. And now-” You shake your head, your eyes welling up again, new tears slipping down your cheeks. “Now I’m just … I’m going to be a virgin forever, aren’t I?”

Your voice cracks on the last word, and the raw vulnerability of it strikes Charles harder than anything else you’ve said. You sound so broken, so small, like you’ve given up on the idea that you’ll ever be loved the way you deserve.

But Charles knows better. He knows exactly what you deserve. And more importantly, he knows exactly who should be the one to give it to you.

His heart pounds in his chest, each beat louder than the last as he watches you crumble before him. He pulls you in again, holding you close, his chin resting on top of your head once more. “You’re not going to be a virgin forever,” he whispers, his voice as soothing as it is purposeful. “Don’t say that.”

Your breath hitches against his shirt. “But who else is there? I can’t — I don’t want to be with anyone else after this. Not after Arthur …”

Charles feels you tremble, your body fragile against his, and something in him snaps. It takes every ounce of restraint he has not to push forward, not to take what he’s wanted for so long right here and now.

But he knows better than that. He knows how to play this. He knows you, knows what you need to hear in this moment.

“Arthur isn’t the only one who’s ever going to want you,” Charles murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as his fingers trace along the curve of your spine. “You’re worth so much more than you realize.”

You shake your head into his chest. “I just … I don’t know anymore.”

The words tear at him, but they also give him an opening. He can feel it — the way you’re unraveling, the way you’re grasping for something to hold onto. Something steady. Someone who understands you in a way Arthur never could.

And he’s more than willing to be that person.

Charles hesitates — just enough to make it seem genuine, just enough to plant the seed of doubt in your mind about what he’s about to say next. He exhales slowly, like he’s weighing his words carefully, like they’re difficult for him to get out.

“There’s … another option,” he says, his voice hesitant, as if he’s afraid to even suggest it. He feels your body tense slightly in his arms, and he knows you’re listening, knows he has your full attention.

You pull back just enough to look at him, your brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

He meets your gaze, his eyes soft but unwavering. He can see the vulnerability in your expression, the way you’re looking at him like you’re trying to make sense of what he’s saying.

Charles takes a breath, keeping his voice as even as he can, though his pulse is racing. “I don’t want you to feel like you’ll never be able to … move on from this. From Arthur. You deserve better than that.”

You blink at him, still confused. “I don’t understand.”

He lowers his eyes for a moment, as if he’s struggling with the thought, and then looks back up at you, his expression serious. “I’m saying … if you wanted to … if you wanted someone who actually cares about you, who respects you, to be your first … I could be that person.”

Your eyes widen, and you freeze in his arms, staring at him like you can’t believe what you just heard. For a second, Charles wonders if he pushed too far, if he misread the moment. But then he sees the flicker of doubt in your eyes, the way your lips part slightly like you’re considering it, like you’re not entirely sure what to say.

“You?” You whisper, your voice barely audible.

Charles nods slowly, his heart pounding in his chest, but he keeps his expression calm, controlled. He lets out a soft breath, as if he’s reluctant to admit it but knows it’s the right thing to offer. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, or like you have to make a decision right now. But … I care about you. I always have. And I would never hurt you the way Arthur did.”

Your gaze drops to the floor, and Charles watches as you process his words, as the weight of what he’s offering settles over you. He can see the conflict in your expression, the way you’re torn between your pain and the possibility of comfort, of feeling wanted again.

And that’s exactly where he wants you.

“I just don’t know if I can trust anyone right now,” you whisper, your voice shaky, your hands trembling slightly as they clutch the fabric of his shirt.

Charles reaches up, gently cupping your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the remnants of your tears. He tilts your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You can trust me,” he says softly, his voice steady and sure. “I would never hurt you, never betray you like he did.”

You look at him, your eyes wide and searching, and Charles can feel the shift in the air between you. The way you’re leaning into him, the way your breathing has slowed, your sobs replaced by something quieter, something more uncertain.

And that’s when he knows. He’s won.

“I don’t know,” you murmur again, but your voice is softer now, less sure, and Charles can feel the cracks forming, can see the way you’re wavering.

He leans in slightly, just enough that his forehead brushes against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m here for you,” he whispers, his voice a gentle coo as he strokes your cheek. “Whatever you need. I’ll take care of you.”

You don’t pull away.

Charles shifts his grip, his fingers slipping into your hair as he tilts your head back, giving himself access to the soft, untouched skin of your throat. He pauses for just a moment, taking in the sight of you: lips parted, eyes glazed and half-closed, a hint of vulnerability still lingering behind the tentative acceptance. His pulse thrums with a steady, insistent beat, desire coiling tighter with every ragged breath you take.

“Just relax,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough against your skin. “Let me take care of you.”

Your breath hitches, and Charles feels the way your body reacts, how you arch slightly into him, seeking more of his touch. His heart pounds harder, his gaze darkening as he dips his head and presses his mouth against the side of your neck.

It starts slow. A soft kiss, just below your jaw, the barest brush of his lips. Then another, lower this time, lingering on the spot where your pulse flutters erratically. He kisses you again, harder now, teeth grazing over your skin. He feels the way you shudder beneath him, hears the sharp intake of breath that escapes your lips, and it fuels something possessive inside him. He lets his mouth linger, sucking at your skin until a faint red mark blooms beneath his lips.

Good. It’s not enough, but it’s a start.

Charles keeps going, kissing and biting his way down your throat, alternating between gentle nips and soothing licks. He can feel the way your body responds to each touch, the soft little noises you make that only seem to spur him on. Every mark he leaves behind feels like a victory, like he’s claiming you inch by inch, branding you as his.

And you’re letting him.

His hand slides down your side, fingers skimming along the curve of your waist before they hook under the hem of your sweater. He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his breathing ragged. There’s a question in his eyes, and he sees the way you hesitate, your lips parting as if to say something — before you slowly nod.

The look in your eyes is hesitant but trusting, and it sends a surge of possessiveness straight through him. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he tugs the fabric up, slowly, deliberately, giving you every chance to stop him. But you don’t. Instead, you lift your arms, letting him pull the sweater over your head and toss it carelessly over the back of the couch.

Charles’ gaze drops, his eyes tracing the shape of your collarbones, the gentle curve of your breasts. There’s a flush spreading across your chest, and he can’t help but smirk, the sight of you like this making his blood heat. You’re so exposed, so vulnerable beneath him, and the trust in your eyes — the way you’re giving yourself to him, piece by piece — is intoxicating.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl as he leans in again, his mouth hovering just above the swell of your chest. “Do you know that? How perfect you are?”

Your cheeks flush a deeper shade, and you glance away, your fingers twisting nervously in your lap. Charles doesn’t give you time to respond. Instead, he presses his lips against the curve of your shoulder, his mouth moving slowly, deliberately, as he makes his way across your chest.

Each kiss is a claim, each touch a reminder of who you belong to. He can feel the way your breathing changes, the way your fingers twitch and flex as if you don’t know what to do with yourself. He’s relentless, sucking and nipping at your skin until more red marks bloom beneath his mouth, each one a testament to his need to mark you, to make sure no one else will ever look at you without seeing his touch.

“Charles …” You whisper his name, your voice barely audible, a hint of something like disbelief in your tone.

He pauses, lifting his head just enough to meet your gaze again. “What is it?” He asks softly, his fingers brushing along the underside of your breast, tracing lazy circles against your skin. “Tell me.”

You swallow hard, your eyes darting away for a moment before they find his again. “I … I just can’t believe this is happening.”

Charles smiles, something dark and possessive flickering in his gaze as he shifts his weight, leaning closer until his body is pressed against yours. He can feel the heat radiating off you, the way your chest rises and falls with every shaky breath you take. “Believe it,” he murmurs, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “I’m here. This is real.”

And it is real. He can feel it — the way you tremble beneath his touch, the way your body yields to him without resistance. He’s waited for this moment for so long, dreamed of it in vivid, desperate detail. Now that he has you, he’s not going to let go. Not ever.

He lowers his head again, his mouth finding the skin between your breasts, and he kisses his way down, down, each press of his lips more insistent than the last. His hands are on your waist now, fingers digging into your hips as he holds you still, his breath hot against your skin. He pauses when he reaches the edge of your bra, his tongue flicking out to trace along the fabric.

“May I?” He murmurs, his voice rough with restraint. He glances up at you through his lashes, waiting for your response.

You hesitate for just a moment before nodding, a small, uncertain movement. But it’s enough for him. Charles’ fingers move with practiced ease, unclasping the bra and sliding it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

His breath catches at the sight of you — bare, vulnerable, all his. He doesn’t waste any time, lowering his head to your chest and pressing his mouth against your skin, his tongue flicking out to taste you. He hears the way you gasp, feels the way your back arches beneath him, and it’s everything he’s ever wanted.

Charles takes his time, kissing and licking his way down your body, leaving more marks in his wake. He can feel the tension coiling tighter in your muscles, the way your breathing grows more erratic the lower he goes. His hands roam over your skin, mapping out every curve, every dip and hollow of your body as if he’s memorizing you.

When he finally reaches your waist, he pauses, his fingers tracing the band of your panties. They’re delicate, a flimsy piece of lace that does nothing to hide you from him. He glances up, meeting your gaze, and for a moment, he just holds it, waiting.

“Tell me,” he says softly, his voice a low murmur. “I need to hear you say it. Do you want this?”

You bite your lip, your eyes wide and uncertain, but there’s something else there, too — something like trust, like surrender. Slowly, hesitantly, you nod.

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I … I want this. I want you.”

The words send a jolt of electricity through him, sharp and exhilarating. Charles lets out a slow breath, his fingers slipping under the band of your panties, and he pulls them down, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice a dark, satisfied growl as he tosses the lace aside. “Because I’m going to give you everything.”

He dips his head again, his mouth following the path of his hands as he kisses his way down your belly, your hips, lavishing attention on every inch of exposed skin. He takes his time, his tongue flicking out to taste you, his teeth grazing along your skin. Each touch, each kiss is deliberate, calculated, meant to draw out every sound, every reaction he can coax from you.

And you respond to him beautifully, your body trembling beneath his touch, your breath coming in soft gasps and whimpers. Charles feels his own control slipping, the need to take you, to claim you fully, growing stronger with each passing second. But he holds back, savoring the way you writhe beneath him, the way your fingers clutch at his hair, desperate for more.

When he finally reaches the apex of your thighs, he pauses, his breath warm against your skin. He looks up at you, his gaze dark and intent, and he waits — waits for you to give him the permission he’s been craving.

“Are you sure?” He murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. He needs to hear you say it again. Needs to know that you’re giving yourself to him willingly.

You nod, your breath hitching as your eyes meet his. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice trembling but sure. “Please, Charles. I want this. I want you.”

Charles doesn’t hesitate — not for a second. He buries his mouth against you, and the taste of your sweetness floods his senses. A low growl rumbles up from his chest, vibrating against your skin as he hooks his hands under your thighs, spreading you wider.

The taste of you is intoxicating, dizzying, like a drug seeping into his veins and lighting him up from the inside. You’re slick and warm, every part of you yielding to his touch, and he drinks you in like a man starved.

“God,” he mutters against you, his voice rough and reverent. “You’re so perfect … so sweet.” He can barely get the words out, his tongue slipping between your folds to lap at you with long, deliberate strokes.

You gasp, your hands flying to his hair, your fingers tangling in the strands as if you need something to anchor yourself. Your back arches off the couch, and Charles takes advantage of the movement, pulling you closer, deeper into him. He wraps his arms around your thighs, holding you in place as he feasts on you, his tongue tracing every inch of you with a hunger that borders on desperation.

Your moans fill the air, soft and breathless, each one sending a jolt of satisfaction through him. He can feel the way your thighs tremble under his grip, the way your body shudders with every flick of his tongue, every soft nip of his teeth. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up for even a second, his mouth working you with a single-minded focus that’s almost feral.

“Charles,” you whimper, your voice breaking on the syllable. “I-I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” he growls, his breath hot against your skin. “You’re doing so well. So good for me.”

He dips his head lower, his tongue swirling around your clit before he sucks it into his mouth, his lips closing around the sensitive bundle of nerves. You cry out, your hips bucking against him, and he tightens his grip, holding you down as he laves at you, his mouth relentless.

You’re so responsive, so pliant beneath him, and it’s driving him wild. He wants to pull every sound from your lips, wants to make you lose yourself in him, wants to make you feel so good that you’ll never be able to think of anyone else. He wants you ruined — completely — until the only name you can say is his.

“Please,” you breathe, your fingers clenching and unclenching in his hair. “Charles, I-I’m so close-”

He hums in response, the vibration making you shudder. His tongue moves faster, more insistent, as he drives you higher, his lips never leaving your skin. He can feel the tension coiling in your body, tighter and tighter, and he knows you’re right on the edge.

“Come for me,” he murmurs, his voice a low, coaxing purr. “I want to feel you, taste you. I want you to come for me.”

You let out a broken sob, your body arching into him as you fall apart. He holds you steady, his mouth never leaving you as he works you through your orgasm, his tongue moving in slow, soothing strokes as your body shakes beneath him. He can feel the way you pulse and clench, the way your thighs tremble and your breath catches, and he doesn’t let up until you’re completely spent, every last aftershock of pleasure wrung out of you.

Only then does he pull back, his chest heaving as he looks up at you. You’re a mess — hair tousled, cheeks flushed, eyes half-lidded and hazy with pleasure. He can see the faint sheen of sweat on your skin, the way your chest rises and falls with every ragged breath, and it sends another surge of possessiveness through him.

This — the sight of you like this, wrecked and breathless and marked with his touch — this is what he’s been waiting for. This is what he’s been craving.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly, his voice low and rough with barely restrained desire. His fingers brush gently along your thighs, tracing lazy patterns on your skin as he watches your face. He needs to hear it from you, needs to know that you’re still with him.

You nod slowly, your lips curving into a small, breathless smile. “Yeah,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly. “I’m … I’m okay.”

Relief washes through him, and he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Good,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin. “Because we’re not done yet.”

Your eyes widen slightly, your breath catching in your throat as you look down at him. “Charles-”

“Shh.” He presses another kiss to your skin, this one softer, more tender. “Just trust me, okay?”

You hesitate for a moment, then nod slowly, your fingers still tangled in his hair. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in your eyes, but also something else — something like trust, like surrender. And it’s that look, that trust, that makes his chest tighten, makes something in him twist and shudder.

Charles shifts his grip, sliding his hands up your body until they’re resting on your waist. He leans up, his gaze locked on yours as he brushes his lips against your belly, the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“I’m going to make you feel so good,” he murmurs, his voice a low, dangerous promise. “I’m going to take care of you. Make you mine. Completely.”

Your breath catches, your lips parting as if to say something, but no words come out. Charles doesn’t give you time to respond. He leans in again, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that’s slow and deep, his tongue sliding against yours with a languid, sensual stroke.

He can taste you on his lips, can still feel the echo of your pleasure thrumming through your body. It’s a heady, intoxicating feeling, and he deepens the kiss, his hands sliding down to grip your hips as he pulls you closer, his chest pressing against yours.

You’re still trembling, your body soft and pliant beneath him, and he shifts, adjusting his weight until he’s cradling you in his arms. He breaks the kiss, his lips hovering just above yours as he murmurs softly, “Lie back for me, baby.”

You blink up at him, your gaze hazy and unfocused, but you do as he says, leaning back against the couch. Charles watches you for a moment, taking in the sight of you — your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, the way your hair spills over the cushions. You look so small, so vulnerable, and it makes something dark and possessive curl inside him.

He wants you like this forever. Wants you beneath him, at his mercy, trusting him to take care of you.

Slowly, deliberately, he reaches out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a soft, almost hesitant touch. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice rough and sincere. “So perfect.”

You blink up at him, a faint smile curving your lips. “Charles … you don’t have to-”

“I mean it,” he interrupts, his voice firm. “I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you. Never felt like this before.”

Your smile falters slightly, and he sees the uncertainty flicker in your eyes, the way your fingers fidget in your lap. He knows you don’t quite believe him, knows that you’re still struggling to understand what this — what he — means to you.

But that’s okay. He has time. He’ll show you, piece by piece, until there’s no doubt left in your mind.

Leaning in, Charles presses another kiss to your lips, softer this time, more tender. “Let me take care of you,” he murmurs against your mouth. “Let me show you how much I want you. How much I-”

How much I love you. The words hover on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows them down, his chest tightening. He’s not ready to say it yet — not when you’re still reeling from everything he’s thrown at you tonight. Not when there’s still so much he needs to do to make you his.

Instead, he kisses you again, pouring all of his need, all of his desperation, into the touch. You respond to him, your body arching into his, your fingers tightening in his hair, and he knows — knows that you’re right where you belong.

With him.

Charles takes a breath, letting the air fill his lungs as he looks down at you, still trembling and flushed beneath him. The sight of you — so soft, so vulnerable — sends a wave of possessiveness through him that makes his hands shake. You’re his, all his, and he’s about to take what should have been his from the beginning. He wants to savor it, wants to make every moment last, but the need coursing through him is wild, uncontrollable.

His hands slide down your thighs, spreading you open again, his thumbs brushing along the soft skin just inside. You’re still shaking, your breaths coming in short, uneven gasps, and he leans down to kiss you, soft and slow, grounding you in the moment.

“Hey,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice a low rumble. “I’ve got you. Okay? Just breathe.”

You nod, but there’s a hint of fear in your eyes, a flicker of uncertainty, and it makes his chest tighten. He doesn’t want you scared. He wants you to trust him, to need him the way he needs you.

Gently, he presses his forehead against yours, his voice softer now, more coaxing. “You trust me, don’t you?”

You swallow, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment before you nod again. “I do,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“Good,” he breathes, his lips brushing against yours. “I’m going to take care of you. I promise.”

He moves slowly, his hands tracing over your skin, mapping every curve and dip of your body. He wants to memorize you, wants to know every inch of you like the back of his hand. His fingers ghost over your hips, sliding up your waist, your ribs, before they dip down again.

You shudder at the touch, your breath hitching in your throat, and Charles smiles — a slow, dangerous smile that sends a thrill through him.

“God,” he murmurs, his voice thick with awe. “You’re perfect.”

You look up at him, your lips parted, your chest rising and falling with every shaky breath, and for a moment, the world seems to stand still. It’s just the two of you — no distractions, no outside noise — just you, laid out before him, vulnerable and trusting, and him, teetering on the edge of losing himself completely.

His fingers trail down between your thighs, gentle, teasing, as he watches your face for any sign of hesitation. He wants this to be perfect for you — wants you to remember this as something special, something that no one else could ever give you.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispers, his fingers brushing against you softly. “If you want to stop, you just say the word. Okay?”

You nod, biting your lip, and he can see the way your body trembles in anticipation, the way your eyes flutter shut as his fingers dip lower, brushing against the slick heat of your core. You’re so warm, so soft, and he can feel how ready you are for him, how your body responds to his touch without hesitation.

He presses a single finger into you, slow and gentle, watching the way your mouth falls open, the way your back arches off the couch as you let out a soft, broken moan. The sound goes straight to his head, dizzying him, making him harder than he thought possible.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing rumble. “You’re doing so well.”

You whimper in response, your hands gripping the cushions beneath you as he moves his finger in and out of you, slow and deliberate. He’s not rushing, not yet. He’s taking his time, getting you used to the feeling, making sure you’re ready for him.

“Does that feel good?” He asks, his voice rough with barely restrained desire.

“Yes,” you breathe, your eyes fluttering open to meet his. “It … it feels good.”

Charles smiles, his thumb brushing against your clit in a slow, circular motion, making your whole body jolt in response. “I want to make you feel even better,” he murmurs, his gaze dark and intense. “But I need to make sure you’re ready for me. Can I add another?”

You nod quickly, your breath hitching in your throat as he slides a second finger into you, stretching you wider. You gasp, your hips bucking up against his hand, and he groans at the way you respond to him, the way your body is so eager to take everything he gives you.

“You’re so tight,” he mutters, his voice thick with lust. “So perfect. I can’t wait to feel you around me.”

You moan softly, your hands flying to his shoulders, your fingers digging into his skin as he works his fingers in and out of you, coaxing more soft sounds from your lips with every movement. He’s careful, deliberate, making sure not to hurt you, but the need burning inside him is almost unbearable.

“Charles,” you whimper, your voice trembling. “I … I need you.”

The words send a bolt of electricity through him, and he curses under his breath, his hands shaking as he pulls his fingers out of you, his heart racing in his chest. He can’t wait any longer. He needs to be inside you.

He shifts, positioning himself between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips as he lines himself up with your entrance. He looks down at you, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps, and for a moment, he hesitates.

“Are you sure?” He asks, his voice low and hoarse. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You look up at him, your eyes wide and trusting, and you nod, your voice soft but steady. “I’m sure.”

Charles swallows hard, his chest tightening at the sound of your voice. You trust him — completely — and it makes his head spin. He’s never wanted anything more than this moment, and now that it’s here, it feels almost surreal.

Slowly, carefully, he presses into you, inch by inch, his hands tightening on your hips as he pushes deeper. You gasp, your body tensing beneath him, and he pauses, his jaw clenched as he fights the urge to move too fast.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs, his voice strained. “You’re doing so good. Just breathe for me.”

You nod, taking a shaky breath as you try to relax, and Charles groans as he slides deeper, the tight heat of you surrounding him, squeezing him in a way that makes it almost impossible to think.

He’s never felt anything like this before — never felt so close to losing control, so close to falling apart completely. But he can’t rush. Not with you. He has to take his time, has to make sure you’re ready for all of him.

Once he’s fully seated inside you, he stills, his breath ragged as he presses his forehead against yours. “You okay?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, your hands clutching at his shoulders, your body trembling beneath him. “Yeah,” you breathe, your voice soft. “I���m okay.”

Relief floods through him, and he presses a soft kiss to your lips, his hands brushing against your skin in slow, soothing strokes. Charles inhales deeply, savoring the intoxicating scent of your skin mixed with sweat and arousal. You’re so tight around him that it takes every ounce of restraint he has not to lose himself right away. Every trembling exhale from your parted lips makes his head spin, and it takes everything in him to keep himself composed, to hold back just a little longer so he doesn’t scare you.

“You’re such a good girl,” he murmurs, voice gravelly, heavy with want. He cups your cheek tenderly, fingers brushing against the tear-streaked skin as he begins to move — slowly, gently — just enough for you to feel every inch of him. “Doing so well for me … taking me so perfectly.”

You whimper, the sound breaking and needy, and it shoots straight through him, making his hips snap forward involuntarily. He freezes, staring down at you, but you only arch your back, letting out another soft, breathless moan that sends a shiver through his spine.

“That’s it,” he breathes, his thumb stroking over your cheek. “Look at you … so beautiful like this. All mine.” His voice drops lower, almost to a growl, as he pulls back and thrusts into you again, harder this time, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. “You know that, right? I’m your first … and I’ll be your only.”

You nod frantically, eyes squeezed shut, fingers digging into his shoulders as your whole body arches up to meet his. “Yes,” you gasp, voice trembling, the word barely coherent.

“Say it.” His hand slips down, gripping your hip as he holds you still beneath him, his thrusts measured and deliberate. “I need to hear you say it.”

Your breath hitches, your head lolling back against the cushions as you struggle to form words through the haze of sensation clouding your mind. “You’re … you’re my first,” you manage, your voice breaking on the last word. “My only.”

The words make his chest swell with something dark and possessive, and he groans, leaning down to bury his face against your throat. “Damn right,” he murmurs against your skin, lips brushing against the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. “I’m going to ruin you for every other man. No one else will ever get to have you like this. No one else will ever get to touch you.”

You shudder beneath him, a broken moan escaping your lips, and he can feel the way your body clenches around him, almost as if your body itself is responding to his words. His control frays further, his thrusts picking up pace, harder, deeper, as he loses himself in the feeling of being inside you, in the way your body takes him so perfectly.

“Fuck,” he growls, his teeth scraping lightly against your collarbone. “I’d kill any other man who tries to touch you like this. Do you hear me? No one else gets to have you.”

You whimper again, your hands sliding up to clutch at his back, your nails digging into his skin as if you’re trying to anchor yourself. “Charles-” you choke out, but whatever you’re trying to say gets lost in another breathless moan as he drives into you again, hitting a spot that makes you cry out, your whole body going taut beneath him.

“Shh,” he soothes, his voice low and dangerous as he kisses a trail down your throat, letting his teeth scrape against your skin just enough to leave marks in his wake. “It’s okay, mon cœur. I’ve got you. I’ll always take care of you. You don’t need anyone else.”

His lips move lower, brushing against your chest, leaving more marks there — proof that you’re his, that you belong to him and only him. He wants everyone to see, to know just by looking at you that you’re taken, that you’re his, that no one else can have you.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs, his voice dark and possessive. “You’ll always be mine. I’ll make sure of it.”

He shifts slightly, angling his hips, and you let out a sharp cry, your hands flying up to grasp at his shoulders as your whole body shudders. Charles grits his teeth, his jaw clenched as he fights to keep his control, to keep himself from losing it completely.

“Are you on birth control?” He asks suddenly, his voice tight, strained. The question seems to come out of nowhere, and for a moment, you just stare up at him, your eyes wide and unfocused.

“What?” You whisper, breathless and confused.

“Birth control,” he repeats, his gaze locked on yours, intense and unrelenting. “Are you on it?”

You shake your head, your brow furrowing slightly as you try to make sense of his words through the haze of pleasure. “No … I’m not …”

Charles’ breath catches, and he has to fight to keep the grin off his face. He moves again, thrusting into you slowly, deliberately, making you moan, your head falling back against the couch. “You’re not?” He murmurs, his voice low and almost mocking. “Then I could put a baby in you right now, couldn’t I?”

The words make your eyes fly open, a look of shock and something almost like panic flashing across your face. “Charles-”

“I could,” he continues, his voice soft, coaxing. “I could fill you up, make you mine forever. No one else would ever look at you again. You’d be tied to me — completely.”

You let out a soft, broken whimper, your hands trembling as they clutch at him, and he groans at the sound, his hips snapping forward as he loses a bit more of his control. “But I won’t,” he breathes, his lips brushing against your ear. “Not yet. Not tonight. But soon.”

“Soon?” You echo, your voice a breathless whisper, and he nods, his hand slipping down between your bodies, his thumb brushing over your clit in slow, teasing circles.

“Yes, mon ange,” he murmurs, his voice dark and sweet. “Soon. I’ll make you mine in every way possible. You won’t be able to think of anyone else. You won’t want anyone else.”

You moan, your whole body trembling beneath him, and he can feel the way you tighten around him, the way your body responds to his words, to the promise in his voice. He’s going to make you his, completely and utterly his, and the thought of it drives him wild.

“You’ll be perfect,” he whispers, his voice low and rough. “Carrying my baby, looking so beautiful with my child growing inside you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being so full of me.”

You shake your head frantically, a choked sob escaping your lips, but your body betrays you, arching up against him, pressing closer as if you can’t get enough of him. “No,” you gasp, but it’s a broken, desperate sound, and he can hear the way your breath catches, the way you moan when he moves inside you again.

“No?” He teases, his lips curving into a slow, dangerous smile. “Are you sure? Because your body’s telling me something different.”

You whimper, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly, your nails digging into his skin, and Charles groans, his hips snapping forward as he thrusts into you again, deeper, harder.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “And I’m not letting anyone else have you. Ever.”

You don’t answer — can’t answer — your head falling back against the cushions as you cry out, your whole body shuddering beneath him. And Charles knows, in that moment, that he’s won. You’re his, completely and utterly his, and there’s no going back.

Charles’ breath stutters as he finally lets go, a deep, guttural groan spilling from his lips as he buries himself inside you, pushing deep, deeper than before, until you gasp and shudder beneath him. He’s been holding himself back for so long, waiting, controlling his own desire just to make sure this moment, your first time, is perfect.

And now — now he’s giving in.

His entire body trembles as he empties himself inside you, his eyes locked on your face, watching every twitch of your brow, every little gasp, every soft, broken moan that escapes you. You’re too overwhelmed to even think, your gaze unfocused, mouth parted as you take him in, your chest heaving with every breath. He can see it, the look of exhaustion and pleasure mingled together, and he loves it. He loves that he’s the one who put it there.

A small whimper falls from your lips as he pulls back slightly, his hips giving a final, gentle thrust as he lets the last of his release fill you. You’re trembling, your entire body shaking with the aftershocks of pleasure, and he can’t help but lean down, pressing soft kisses along your jaw, your throat, murmuring praises against your skin.

“There you go,” he murmurs, his voice thick and low. “You did so well … such a good girl for me.” He pulls back slightly, his hand slipping down between your thighs. He can feel his release already starting to slip out of you, a small, creamy trickle that makes something dark and possessive curl in his chest.

“No,” he breathes, almost to himself, his thumb gently brushing over your swollen, overstimulated clit as he scoops up a bit of the mess between your thighs. You shudder, your hips jerking involuntarily at the contact, and a soft whimper escapes your lips. Charles watches, eyes dark and heavy-lidded, as he brings his fingers up to your lips, smearing his release over them.

“Open,” he whispers, his voice soft but firm, and you do, your lips parting obediently, eyes fluttering shut as you take his fingers into your mouth. He watches, enthralled, as your tongue flicks out, tasting him. His release. Your combined arousal. He can feel the warmth of your mouth, the way your tongue swirls around his fingers, and a low, satisfied hum escapes him.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, his voice rough and deep. “Don’t waste a drop. I want you to taste how good we are together. How perfect you are for me.”

You’re so pliant, so willing to do whatever he asks, and it sends a thrill through him, makes his stomach twist with a dark, heady satisfaction. You’re his. Completely and utterly his. He watches as you swallow, a small, helpless sound escaping your throat, and he groans softly, his hand cupping your cheek as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Good girl,” he breathes against your mouth, and then, slowly, carefully, he pulls back, his body protesting as he slips out of you. A small whimper falls from your lips at the loss, and Charles’ chest tightens, a sharp pang of something almost like guilt shooting through him. But he pushes it away. He can’t afford to feel guilt right now. Not when you’re still trembling beneath him, your breath hitching in soft, broken sobs of pleasure.

With a soft, low sigh, he reaches down, his arms slipping beneath you as he scoops you up, cradling your boneless body against his chest. You’re so light, so small in his arms, and he holds you close, pressing his cheek against your hair as he breathes you in.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing as he stands, holding you securely. “I’ve got you, mon amour. You’re safe.”

Your head lolls against his chest, your eyes fluttering shut as you let out a soft, contented sigh. You’re still trembling, your entire body limp with exhaustion, and Charles glances down at the mess you’ve both made on the couch — a wet spot that’s spread across the fabric, a mixture of his release and yours. He grimaces slightly, knowing it’s going to need a thorough cleaning later. But he doesn’t care. Not right now. Not when you’re in his arms, so soft and warm and completely at his mercy.

He carries you down the hall, each step deliberate and careful, not wanting to jostle you too much. You’re completely relaxed against him, your arms loosely draped around his neck, your cheek pressed against his shoulder. He can feel your breath against his skin, soft and even, and it makes something twist painfully in his chest.

He nudges the bathroom door open with his foot, flicking on the light with his elbow as he steps inside. The room is cool and quiet, and Charles glances around, trying to figure out the best way to set you down without letting you go. After a moment, he carefully lowers you onto the countertop, his hands lingering on your waist as if he can’t bear to let you go just yet.

You make a soft, sleepy sound, your head lolling to the side as you blink up at him, eyes glazed and unfocused. “Charles …” Your voice is a soft, broken whisper, and Charles’ heart clenches at the sound.

“I’m here,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing gently over your hip as he reaches over to turn on the faucet, the sound of water filling the room. “Just going to run a bath for you, okay? I want to take care of you.”

You nod slowly, your gaze drifting back to him as if you’re trying to keep your focus, trying to stay present. Charles watches you, his chest tight, a strange mix of emotions swirling inside him. He hates seeing you like this — so exhausted, so spent. But at the same time … he loves it. Loves that he’s the one who put you in this state, loves that you trusted him enough to give yourself to him completely.

He adjusts the temperature of the water, letting it run for a moment to make sure it’s just right before he turns back to you. You’re still watching him, your gaze soft and a little dazed, and he smiles gently, his hands slipping under your thighs as he lifts you again.

“Come on,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing as he lowers you into the warm water. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You let out a soft, contented sigh as the water envelops you, your head falling back against the edge of the tub. Charles watches, his gaze lingering on your face, on the way your eyes flutter shut, your lips parting slightly. He stands there for a moment, just looking at you, his chest tightening with something fierce and possessive and so, so tender.

Then, slowly, he slips out of his own ruined clothes, letting them fall in a heap on the floor as he steps into the tub behind you. The water is warm, soothing, and he settles in, pulling you back against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist as he holds you close.

You let out a soft hum of contentment, your body relaxing against his, and Charles sighs, his chin resting on your shoulder as he nuzzles his cheek against your hair.

“There we go,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft. “Just relax, baby. I’ve got you. I’ll always take care of you.”

You sigh softly, your hand drifting up to rest on his arm, your fingers curling loosely around his wrist. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath. “For … for everything.”

Charles’ heart clenches, and he tightens his hold on you, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder. “You don’t have to thank me,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ll always take care of you. Always.”

You nod slowly, your body sinking further into his embrace, and Charles closes his eyes, letting himself just … feel. Feel the warmth of your body against his, the soft rise and fall of your chest, the steady beat of your heart. He holds you close, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your skin as he murmurs soft, soothing words against your hair.

And in that moment, he knows. He’ll never let you go. Never. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep you with him — to keep you his. Because you’re his. His first. His only. His forever.

***

The warmth of your body still lingers against his skin as Charles carries you from the bathroom to your bed. You’re completely boneless, head tucked beneath his chin, the gentle rhythm of your breathing soft and even in the quiet room. He glances down at you, the way your hair falls messily across your forehead, the relaxed expression on your face. The exhaustion etched in every line of your body.

He’s never seen anything more perfect.

You don’t even stir when he lowers you onto the mattress, your arms falling limp at your sides as he tucks the covers around you. There’s something intensely gratifying about it — about knowing how thoroughly he’s worn you out. About being the only one who’s ever seen you like this, so vulnerable and open and … completely his.

He straightens, looking down at you, his chest tightening with something almost too big to name. He takes a moment, just … standing there, watching you, every instinct in his body screaming at him to stay close. To keep you safe. To make sure nothing ever takes you away from him.

The soft, steady rise and fall of your chest is hypnotic, your breath a gentle whisper in the stillness of the room. Charles reaches down, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. His fingers linger, tracing lightly over your temple, down the curve of your cheek, his touch feather-light. You sigh softly in your sleep, leaning into his hand, and something fierce and protective flares in his chest.

It’s not enough.

Even now, standing here, looking at you, knowing you’re finally his … it’s not enough.

Slowly, he slips off his towel, dropping it in a silent heap on the floor. The bed dips slightly under his weight as he climbs in beside you, careful not to jostle you too much. He shouldn’t do this, he knows — shouldn’t be so close, shouldn’t let himself cross this line again. But he can’t help it. Can’t stop himself from reaching out, his hand brushing over the soft curve of your waist.

You don’t wake. You’re too deeply asleep, too exhausted to even stir, and Charles’ chest tightens as he watches you. You’re completely oblivious, completely unguarded, your breathing slow and even. So trusting. So vulnerable. So … his.

He shifts closer, his body pressing against yours as he slips a hand under the covers, his fingers ghosting over the soft skin of your stomach. You’re so warm, so soft beneath his touch, and he can’t resist — can’t help but trace the gentle swell of your belly, the curve of your waist, the delicate line of your hip. Every inch of you is perfect. Made for him. You were always meant to be his.

His fingers linger at the crease of your thigh, hesitating for just a moment. He should stop. He knows he should stop. But … you’re his. You’ve given yourself to him, trusted him with your body, and that trust — your submission — is more intoxicating than anything he’s ever felt before.

Slowly, carefully, he grabs the duvet and tugs, pulling the fabric down, down, until it’s slipped free of your legs. The cool air brushes against your bare skin, and you shiver slightly, a soft, broken sound escaping your lips. But you don’t wake. You don’t even stir. You’re completely lost to sleep, completely at his mercy.

He breathes out slowly, his gaze dark and intent as he watches you, his heart pounding hard in his chest. You’re perfect. So perfect. So beautiful, lying there, your body splayed out beneath him. His to touch. His to take. His to claim.

He moves slowly, carefully, his hand sliding between your thighs, his fingers brushing against the slick warmth of your core. A soft sigh falls from your lips, your body arching slightly into his touch, and Charles’ breath catches in his throat. You’re so wet, so pliant and soft and ready for him, even in sleep.

He shouldn’t do this. He knows he shouldn’t do this.

But he can’t stop himself.

His hand trembles slightly as he lines himself up, the head of his cock brushing against your entrance. He grits his teeth, his entire body coiled tight with the effort it takes not to just thrust — to push inside and take you all over again. But he’s patient. He’s careful. He moves slowly, gently, inching forward until he’s just barely inside you.

You stir, a soft moan escaping your lips, your body arching slightly beneath him. Charles bites back a groan, his hands gripping your hips as he holds himself still, waiting for you to settle. His breath comes hard and fast, his heart pounding in his chest as he watches you, every instinct screaming at him to move. To take. To claim.

But he waits. He’s patient. He’s careful. He won’t hurt you.

Slowly, carefully, he inches forward, his breath hitching as he sinks deeper, deeper, until he’s fully seated inside you. You’re so tight around him, so warm and wet and perfect, and it takes everything in him not to just move. To thrust. To take you the way he wants to. The way he needs to.

A soft whimper falls from your lips, your body twitching slightly beneath him, and Charles freezes, his entire body going tense as he watches you. You don’t wake. You don’t even stir, your breathing soft and even, your chest rising and falling steadily.

He breathes out slowly, his hands trembling slightly as he releases the breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. You’re still asleep. Still lost to whatever dream has you sighing softly, your lips parted slightly, your brow furrowed in the softest frown.

You’re his. Completely and utterly his.

He moves slowly, carefully, his hips shifting as he pulls back slightly, only to push forward again, sinking deeper inside you. A soft, broken sound escapes your lips, and Charles’ heart clenches, his entire body trembling with the effort it takes to stay slow. To stay gentle. To make this perfect for you.

His hand slips up, brushing over the soft skin of your stomach, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your navel. You’re so beautiful like this — so soft and pliant and completely at his mercy. He moves again, a slow, gentle thrust that has you sighing softly in your sleep, your body relaxing even further beneath him.

He keeps it slow, keeps it gentle, his movements deliberate and careful as he rocks into you, each thrust a soft, measured press of his hips against yours. He’s not trying to wake you. Not trying to take you out of this soft, quiet world of sleep. He just wants to be close. Just wants to feel you. Just wants to be inside you, surrounded by your warmth, your softness, your perfect, trusting submission.

A soft whimper escapes your lips, your body twitching slightly, and Charles leans down, his lips brushing over your temple, your cheek, your lips. “Shh, baby,” he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing whisper. “I’ve got you. Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

You sigh softly, your body going limp beneath him, and Charles’ heart clenches, a fierce wave of something dark and possessive washing over him. He holds himself still, his breath coming hard and fast as he watches you, his gaze dark and intent.

You’re his. You’re finally his. And nothing — nothing — will ever take you away from him.

Slowly, carefully, he shifts his weight, his body pressing down against yours as he buries himself inside you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you close. He can feel the soft, steady beat of your heart against his chest, the gentle rise and fall of your breath, the warmth of your skin against his.

He’s never felt anything like this before. Never felt so … complete. So at peace. So whole.

You’re his. Finally.

And he’s never letting you go.

With a soft, contented sigh, Charles settles in behind you, his body curled protectively around yours as he holds you close. He stays inside you, his cock still nestled deep, the warmth and softness of your body enveloping him. He’s never felt anything like this before — this perfect, blissful sense of rightness, of belonging.

He leans down, his lips brushing over the back of your neck, his breath a soft, warm whisper against your skin. “Mine,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough with emotion. “You’re mine, ma chérie. My good girl. My perfect girl.”

You let out a soft, sleepy sigh, your body shifting slightly in his arms, and Charles smiles, his heart swelling with a fierce, possessive joy. You’re his. And he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you with him.

Slowly, he closes his eyes, his arms tightening around you as he lets himself drift, his breath evening out as he falls into a deep, contented sleep. The last thing he feels is the steady beat of your heart, the soft warmth of your body, and the perfect, blissful sense of belonging that comes with knowing …

You’re his. Finally, irrevocably, and forever his.

***

The morning light spills softly into the bedroom, casting a warm, golden glow across the sheets tangled around your body. Charles wakes slowly, the remnants of sleep clinging to his mind like a fog as he blinks his eyes open. The first thing he feels is you — still warm and soft against him, your body completely relaxed, your head nestled against his shoulder.

He’s still inside you.

The realization makes something tighten in his chest, something dark and possessive and overwhelmingly satisfied. You’re still so tight around him, so soft and warm, your body fitting perfectly against his. He should feel guilty. He should feel remorse or shame or some shred of decency for what he’s done.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he stays still, his eyes tracing the lines of your face, the gentle curve of your mouth, the delicate flutter of your eyelashes against your cheeks. You’re still fast asleep, your breathing slow and steady, your chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm that matches the beating of his heart.

His.

You’re finally his.

The thought makes his breath hitch, his gaze darkening as he watches you, a fierce, possessive satisfaction washing over him. He’s been waiting so long for this — been wanting you for years, watching you from a distance as you smiled and laughed and loved his brother instead of him. And now you’re finally here, wrapped up in his arms, his cock still buried deep inside you.

He tightens his hold on you, his arms wrapped around your waist as he pulls you closer, your body shifting slightly in your sleep. You murmur softly, a small, sleepy sound escaping your lips, and Charles’ chest tightens, his heart swelling with something almost too big to name.

He could stay like this forever. Could spend the rest of his life holding you like this, feeling your warmth, your softness, the gentle, perfect way your body molds to his. But the light filtering through the curtains is growing brighter, the morning creeping steadily in, and he knows he can’t stay like this forever. There’s too much to do. Too much to take care of.

Too many loose ends to tie up.

Carefully, slowly, he shifts, pulling out of you with a soft, reluctant sigh. His cock slips free, and he watches, mesmerized, as a trickle of his release follows, sliding down your inner thigh to stain the sheets beneath you. Something dark and primal stirs in his chest at the sight, his fingers itching to reach out and touch, to gather up the evidence of his possession and push it back inside you where it belongs.

But he resists. You’re still sleeping, your face soft and peaceful, your body completely relaxed. He doesn’t want to wake you — not yet, at least. You need your rest after last night. You need time to recover, to heal, to get used to the new reality of being his.

Instead, he pulls the covers up over you, tucking them gently around your body before slipping out of bed. His feet hit the cool floor with a soft thud, and he bends down, retrieving his discarded boxers from the pile of clothes spilling out of the bathroom. The fabric is soft and worn against his skin as he slips them on, his gaze drifting back to you, sprawled out on the bed, your hair a tangled mess on the pillow.

He’ll let you sleep a little longer, he decides. You’ve earned it.

He’s just turning away, his fingers brushing through his own tousled hair, when the sound of a knock echoes through the apartment.

Charles freezes, his entire body going still, his gaze snapping toward the bedroom door. The knock comes again, louder this time, more insistent, and a flicker of irritation sparks in his chest.

Who the hell-

Another knock, and Charles’ jaw clenches, his teeth grinding together as he stalks out of the bedroom, his bare feet silent against the floor. The apartment is quiet, the only sound the soft rustle of his movements as he makes his way to the front door.

He knows who it is before he even reaches for the handle.

Knows, because he’s been waiting for this — waiting for the moment when everything comes crashing down, when the reality of what he’s done, what he’s taken, finally hits his brother.

The door swings open, and there he is.

Arthur stands in the doorway, his face pale and drawn, his eyes wide and wild with something close to panic. He’s still in the same clothes he was wearing yesterday, his hair a mess, dark circles smudged beneath his eyes.

“Charles?” His voice is rough, a strange, desperate edge to it. He looks … lost. Confused. Like he’s not quite sure what he’s seeing.

And then his gaze drops, taking in the sight of Charles standing there in nothing but his boxers, his bare chest still flushed with the lingering heat of last night. Arthur’s mouth opens, then closes, his eyes narrowing as something sharp and dangerous flickers across his face.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Charles’ expression doesn’t change. He leans against the doorframe, his arms crossing over his chest, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. He should feel bad — should feel guilty or ashamed or something for what he’s done.

But he doesn’t.

“Good morning to you too, Arthur,” he drawls, his voice calm, almost bored. “What brings you here so early?”

Arthur’s hands clench into fists at his sides, his jaw tightening as he glares at his older brother. “Don’t play games with me, Charles. What the hell are you doing here? Why are you in her apartment?”

Charles’ gaze flicks over him, taking in the way his shoulders are hunched, the way his hands shake with barely contained anger. He almost feels a pang of pity.

Almost.

“I think the better question,” he murmurs, his voice soft and even, “is why you’re here, Arthur.”

Arthur blinks, his brows furrowing in confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Charles straightens, pushing off the doorframe as he steps forward, his gaze steady and unflinching. “She doesn’t want to see you anymore,” he says quietly, his voice firm and unyielding. “Your relationship is over.”

Arthur’s mouth falls open, shock and confusion and a hundred other emotions flickering across his face. “What — what the fuck are you talking about?” He stammers, his voice rising in pitch. “What do you mean, it’s over? She — she wouldn’t-”

“She did,” Charles interrupts, his tone cold and matter-of-fact. “She ended it last night. She doesn’t want to be with you anymore. It’s over.”

The words hang heavy in the air, the silence that follows thick and suffocating. Arthur stares at him, his eyes wide and disbelieving, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. He looks … broken.

Charles almost feels a pang of guilt.

Almost.

But then he remembers the way you looked last night — the way you moaned and gasped and begged for him, your body arching beneath his, your lips parted in breathless pleasure. He remembers the way you whispered his name, the way you clung to him, the way you gave yourself to him so completely, so perfectly.

And any trace of guilt or remorse disappears, replaced by a fierce, possessive satisfaction.

Arthur was a necessary sacrifice. A means to an end. Something to be discarded and forgotten now that he has you. Now that you’re his.

“Charles, this — this is insane,” Arthur chokes out, his voice shaking. “You’re — you’re sick. You’ve always been obsessed with her, but I never thought-”

“Careful, Arthur,” Charles murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. He takes another step forward, his gaze locking with his brother’s, his expression cold and unyielding. “You’re starting to sound like you don’t believe me.”

Arthur’s face twists, a snarl curling his lips as he takes a step back, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You’re lying,” he spits, his voice thick with rage. “You’re fucking lying. She wouldn’t — she wouldn’t do that.”

“She did,” Charles says calmly, his gaze never wavering. “And if you care about her at all, you’ll respect her decision. You’ll leave her alone.”

Arthur’s chest heaves, his breath coming hard and fast as he glares at his older brother, his eyes wild with desperation and fury. “You’re — you’re a fucking monster,” he breathes, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. “She’s — she’s everything to me, Charles. You can’t just-”

“She’s not yours,” Charles cuts him off, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “She was never yours. And now, she’s mine.”

The words are a final blow, a cruel, cutting truth that shatters whatever fragile hope Arthur was still clinging to. His shoulders sag, his head bowing as the fight drains out of him, leaving him hollow and broken and utterly defeated.

“Get out,” Charles says quietly, his voice calm and cold and unyielding. “And don’t come back.”

Arthur stares at him for a long, agonizing moment, his eyes filled with pain and betrayal and a thousand other emotions Charles doesn’t care to name. And then, slowly, he turns, his movements stiff and mechanical as he stumbles back down the hallway.

Charles watches him go, his gaze dark and unreadable, his heart pounding hard in his chest.

Charles closes the door softly, the lock clicking into place with a finality that makes his chest swell with satisfaction. He doesn’t spare another thought for Arthur, doesn’t bother with the remnants of guilt still faintly tugging at the edges of his mind. It’s done. He’s gone.

You’re all that matters now.

He turns away from the door, the apartment eerily quiet as he pads silently back down the hallway. The morning light is streaming in through the windows, casting long shadows on the floor, but everything is still, peaceful. The calm after the storm.

When he reaches the bedroom, his eyes find you immediately. You haven’t moved. Still lying there, curled up under the sheets, your hair a soft halo on the pillow, your face turned slightly to the side. You look so peaceful, so innocent, so his. He watches you for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest, his entire body thrumming with an electric anticipation.

He can’t help himself.

Slowly, he slips out of his boxers, letting the fabric fall to the floor in a careless heap. He’s hard again — has been since Arthur’s interruption, the confrontation with his brother only heightening the possessive desire coursing through his veins. He wants to claim you all over again. Wants to bury himself inside you, make you moan and gasp and beg for him like you did last night.

Wants to remind himself that you’re his and his alone.

The bed dips under his weight as he crawls in beside you, the mattress creaking softly as he settles in, his body pressed against your side. He moves slowly, careful not to wake you just yet, his eyes tracing the delicate curve of your neck, the soft rise and fall of your chest. He leans in, pressing his lips to your shoulder, his mouth trailing down the smooth line of your back, his hands sliding under the covers to caress your skin.

You murmur softly in your sleep, a small, content sound that makes something tighten low in his belly. He shifts, his hand trailing down your back, over the curve of your hip, his fingers brushing the soft skin of your thigh. Slowly, carefully, he moves, spreading your legs just enough to make room for him as he positions himself between them.

His cock presses against your entrance, the heat of your body searing against his skin. He pauses, his breath catching in his throat as he waits, his gaze locked on your face. You’re still sleeping, still blissfully unaware, and he bites back a groan, his hands trembling with the effort of holding himself back.

But only for a moment.

He pushes forward, just a fraction, just enough to feel the tight, wet heat of you enveloping him, your body resisting for a split second before yielding to his intrusion. He bites down on his lip, a soft hiss escaping as he inches in deeper, his hands braced on either side of your body, his chest pressed against your back.

You stir, a soft gasp slipping from your lips as your body tightens around him, your back arching slightly in response. He freezes, his gaze snapping to your face, watching as your brows furrow, your lips parting in a soft, breathless moan.

“Charles …” you murmur, your voice thick with sleep, confused and disoriented as you shift beneath him. “What …”

“Shhh,” he whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he leans down, his voice low and soothing. “It’s okay, baby. Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

You shudder, your body trembling beneath him as he presses in deeper, the sheets rustling softly as he moves. He’s careful, slow, giving you time to adjust, his hands sliding up to cradle your hips, his thumbs brushing soothingly over your skin.

“Charles …” you breathe again, your voice a soft, broken whisper as your body arches against his, your legs parting wider to accommodate him. “What are you-”

“I couldn’t wait,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough with need as he thrusts in the rest of the way, his hips pressing flush against your ass. You gasp, your body clenching around him, a soft whimper escaping your lips. “I couldn’t wait to be inside you again. To wake you up like this.”

Your breath hitches, your fingers clutching at the sheets as he pulls out, just a fraction, before pushing back in, his movements slow and deliberate. “Charles, I-”

“Shhh,” he soothes, his hands sliding up your sides, his thumbs brushing the curve of your waist. “Just feel me, baby. Let me make you feel good.”

You’re still half-asleep, your mind foggy and slow, your body moving on instinct as he starts to move, his hips rocking gently against yours. He’s barely holding back, his entire body strung tight with need, the urge to fuck you hard and fast and claim you again roaring in his veins.

But he holds back. Takes his time. He wants you to feel every inch of him, wants you to wake up to the sensation of him buried deep inside you, stretching you, filling you completely.

“I can’t wait to do this every day,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the nape of your neck, his voice a low, possessive growl. “Every morning. Every night. For the rest of our lives.”

You moan softly, your body shuddering beneath him as his words sink in, your breath coming faster, your chest rising and falling in quick, shallow pants. “Charles, I-”

“You’re mine,” he breathes, his hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm, each thrust deep and deliberate, each movement designed to remind you exactly who you belong to. “You’re mine, baby. And I’m never letting you go.”

Your fingers clutch at the sheets, your head falling back against his shoulder as he fucks you slowly, thoroughly, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. You gasp, your back arching, your body tightening around him, and Charles groans, his own control fraying at the edges.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, his voice rough and thick with need. “So tight and wet and perfect for me.”

“Charles …” you whimper, your voice a broken, desperate plea, your body trembling beneath him. “I — please, I-”

“Shhh,” he soothes, his lips brushing the curve of your jaw as he thrusts in deep, his cock buried to the hilt inside you. “It’s okay, mon ange. Just let go. I’ve got you.”

He can feel you starting to fall apart, your body tightening around him, your breath coming in quick, shallow pants. He knows you’re close — can feel it in the way your body clenches and quivers, in the soft, breathless moans slipping from your lips.

“Come for me, baby,” he murmurs, his voice a low, rough command as he picks up the pace, his hips snapping against yours in quick, shallow thrusts. “Come on, let me feel you.”

You shudder, a broken, desperate sob escaping your lips as your body tenses, your muscles locking up as pleasure crashes over you, your entire body trembling with the force of it. Charles groans, his own release building, his cock throbbing as you tighten around him, milking him, drawing him deeper.

“Good girl,” he breathes, his voice thick with praise and satisfaction as he thrusts in hard, his hands gripping your hips as he buries himself deep, his release hitting him like a freight train. “Such a good girl.”

He stays there, buried deep inside you, his chest heaving, his heart pounding as the last waves of pleasure roll through him. You’re still trembling, your breath coming in soft, ragged gasps, your body pliant and boneless beneath him.

“Charles …” you murmur softly, your voice a sleepy, sated whisper as your eyes flutter open, your gaze dazed and unfocused. “I-”

He shifts, his hand sliding up to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your lips. “It’s okay, mon amour,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “Go back to sleep. I’m here.”

You sigh softly, your eyes drifting closed again as sleep pulls you under, your body relaxing completely beneath his. Charles watches you for a long moment, his gaze softening, his chest tightening with something almost too big to name.

You’re his.

And he’s never letting you go.

With a soft sigh, he lowers his head, his lips brushing the curve of your shoulder as he shifts, his body molding to yours. He’s still inside you, still connected, still a part of you. And that’s exactly where he wants to be.

Where he’s always wanted to be.

His arms tighten around you, his eyes closing as he breathes in your scent, the warmth of your body seeping into his. He can feel sleep tugging at the edges of his mind, but he doesn’t fight it. Not this time.

Not when he’s finally, finally where he belongs.

With you.

For now. For always. Forever.

***

Charles isn’t entirely sure how many weeks it’s been since that morning. Since Arthur. Since everything changed. But the blur of days and nights, of waking up beside you, of coaxing you into his bed, into his apartment, into his life, has been the sweetest kind of haze.

It’s been a slow, deliberate process. Each night, he asks you to stay a little longer. Each morning, he insists on making you coffee, on sharing a quick breakfast, on driving you to work. He’s patient, meticulous, letting you come to him little by little, your things finding their way into his space in a way that feels natural, unforced.

Until it’s not just a toothbrush left in his bathroom, but your favorite skincare products. Not just a spare shirt, but an entire drawer full of your clothes. Not just a book or two, but stacks of them lining his shelves, mingling with his own, your life slowly intertwining with his in every way.

It’s intoxicating, watching you settle in, watching you relax, watching you start to think of his space as yours. It’s almost too easy.

Every evening, when he casually suggests you bring over something else — a few more clothes, your laptop so you can work from his place, that blanket you love because his living room gets drafty — your hesitation fades a little more. And every time you say yes, every time you come over and unpack just one more bag, his heart clenches with a satisfaction so intense it’s nearly painful.

Tonight, it’s the same routine. You’ve brought over another bag, this one heavier than usual. Charles watches, hiding a smile, as you kick off your shoes in the hallway, setting the bag down with a small, relieved sigh.

“Did you bring your entire closet this time?” He teases, leaning against the doorway, his eyes tracing the curve of your body as you stretch, your sweater riding up just enough to show a sliver of skin. The sight makes his fingers itch to touch, to pull you close and never let go.

“Just the essentials,” you reply lightly, your voice warm and teasing as you give him a playful look. “You told me to, remember?”

“Did I?” He raises an eyebrow, pretending to think. “I must’ve forgotten. Or maybe I just want you to have everything you need here.”

“Everything?” You tilt your head, giving him a curious look. “What are you saying, Charles?”

He pushes off the doorway, crossing the short distance between you in a few easy strides. He stops in front of you, his hands finding your hips, his thumbs brushing the fabric of your jeans in slow, deliberate circles.

“I’m saying,” he murmurs, leaning in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “that you should just stay here. For good.”

He feels the way you stiffen, your hands coming up to rest on his chest, your fingers curling slightly into his shirt. “Charles, I-”

“Think about it,” he cuts in softly, his voice low and soothing. “You’re here almost every night anyway. You have more clothes here than you do at your place. It just makes sense.”

“Sense,” you echo, your voice quiet, almost hesitant. “But-”

“You’re wasting money on rent for a place you barely stay at,” he continues, not letting you pull away, his hands tightening on your hips. “Why would you need that when you could just be here with me?”

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to his chest, your teeth worrying your bottom lip. “I don’t know, it’s just … it feels so fast.”

“Fast?” He huffs a soft laugh, his hands sliding up your sides, his thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. “It’s been weeks. We’ve known each other for years. There’s nothing fast about this.”

“I know, but …” You trail off, shaking your head slightly, your brows furrowing as if you’re trying to find the right words. “I just — Charles, I don’t want to rush things.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his gaze tracing your face, taking in the uncertainty in your eyes, the way your lips are pressed into a thin line, the way your body is tense under his touch. He can feel your hesitation, your reluctance, the lingering doubt that’s keeping you from taking that final step.

And he knows exactly how to make it go away.

Slowly, deliberately, he lowers himself to his knees, his hands sliding down your body to rest on your thighs. He looks up at you, his gaze dark and intense, his fingers curling into the waistband of your jeans.

“Charles, what are you-”

“Shhh,” he murmurs, his voice soft, almost coaxing. “Let me show you how much I want this. How much I want you.”

You swallow, your throat working as you look down at him, your eyes wide, your breath coming in quick, shallow pants. He waits, watching the way your pupils dilate, the way your hands twitch at your sides, the way your body sways just slightly toward him.

And then he moves.

His hands find the button of your jeans, flicking it open with a quick, practiced motion, the sound of the zipper rasping loud in the quiet apartment. He pulls the fabric down, his fingers brushing over the soft skin of your thighs, your legs, until he’s stripped you bare from the waist down, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Charles,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly, your hands fluttering at your sides. “You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough as he leans in, his mouth brushing the soft skin of your inner thigh. “Let me.”

He can feel the way your body tenses, the way your breath catches, the way your legs tremble slightly as he presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your skin. He takes his time, his mouth moving higher, his tongue darting out to taste, to tease, until he reaches the delicate lace of your panties.

He looks up at you, his hands sliding up your thighs to grip your hips, his thumbs brushing over the edge of the lace. He waits, watching the way your chest rises and falls, the way your eyes are dark and heavy-lidded, your lips parted, your breath coming in quick, shallow pants.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath.

It’s all he needs.

With a low, satisfied hum, he hooks his fingers into the lace, pulling it to the side, exposing you to his gaze. He leans in, his mouth brushing over your folds, his tongue darting out for a quick, teasing lick.

You gasp, your hands flying to his shoulders, your fingers curling into his shirt as your body jolts in response. He grins, his hands tightening on your hips as he leans in again, his tongue tracing a slow, deliberate path over your clit.

“Charles — oh god-” You choke out, your voice breaking as he licks again, his mouth moving with slow, practiced precision. He can feel the way your body is trembling, the way your fingers are digging into his shoulders, your breath coming in quick, desperate pants.

He knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

Knows exactly how to push you to the edge.

He laps at you slowly, deliberately, his tongue teasing and tasting, his mouth moving with a languid, almost lazy rhythm. He wants to savor this, wants to make you fall apart slowly, wants to make you feel.

You’re moaning now, your head falling back, your body arching against his mouth as he licks and sucks, his tongue swirling over your clit, his lips brushing against your folds. He can feel the way you’re trembling, the way your body is tensing, the way your breath is coming in quick, ragged gasps.

“Please — oh god, please-”

He pulls back slightly, his gaze flicking up to yours, his breath hot against your skin. “Please what, mon cœur?”

“Don’t stop,” you gasp, your voice a broken, desperate plea. “Please, don’t stop.”

He grins, his hands tightening on your hips as he leans in again, his tongue flicking over your clit, his mouth moving with a relentless, determined rhythm. He can feel the way you’re trembling, the way your body is tightening, the way your breath is coming in quick, shallow pants.

And then you’re coming apart, your body arching against his mouth, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as you cry out, your release crashing over you in waves. He groans, his hands gripping your hips as he holds you steady, his tongue moving slowly, gently, coaxing every last tremor from your body.

When you finally collapse against him, your breath coming in soft, ragged gasps, he pulls back, his mouth slick and wet, his gaze locked on yours.

“You belong with me,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough as he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your thigh. “Say you’ll stay.”

“I-” You swallow, your voice trembling as you look down at him, your eyes wide and dazed, your body still trembling. “Okay.”

He smiles, satisfaction and triumph blooming in his chest as he stands, his hands finding your waist, pulling you close. “Good girl.”

And just like that, you’re his.

***

The soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of silverware fill the cozy space of Charles’ apartment. The dinner table is set beautifully, as always — warm, ambient light filtering through the modern chandelier above, casting gentle shadows on the polished wooden surface. Plates are lined with an assortment of carefully prepared dishes, most of which you helped with under his guidance, the evening flowing seamlessly in the comfortable domesticity they’ve created together.

Charles glances across the table, his gaze settling on you with the same fierce, possessive warmth that’s become more familiar over the past few weeks. You’re laughing softly at something he said, fingers wrapped loosely around the delicate stem of your wine glass. He leans back, watching you take another slow sip, and waits.

And then it happens.

You lower the glass, a slight furrow forming between your brows, your nose scrunching up in confusion. “Hmm, that’s … strange.”

Charles cocks his head, feigning curiosity. “What is?”

“This …” You frown, swirling the liquid gently, as if expecting the taste to change with the motion. “I don’t know. The wine tastes … different tonight.”

“Different?” He raises a brow, playing along, watching the subtle flicker of emotions cross your face. Confusion. Curiosity. Just the hint of concern. “How so?”

“I can’t really explain it,” you say, looking up at him, your lips quirking with a slight grimace. “It’s like it’s missing something.”

He lets the silence stretch for a beat, then two, before leaning forward slightly, his fingers drumming once against the table. “That’s because it’s not wine.”

The statement hangs in the air, and you blink, clearly taken aback. “What?”

“It’s sparkling grape juice,” he clarifies, his voice calm, as if discussing the weather, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

You stare at him, your expression shifting from confusion to outright bewilderment. “Grape juice? Why would you-”

“Because,” Charles interrupts gently, leaning forward, his gaze locking onto yours with a quiet intensity, “we haven’t used protection. Not once. And if … if you’re already pregnant, I don’t want to risk anything.”

He watches the way your face goes slack with shock, the way your fingers tense around the stem of your glass, your knuckles whitening. For a moment, it’s as if you’ve forgotten how to breathe.

“Pregnant?” The word slips out in a whisper, almost inaudible, your voice trembling on the single syllable.

“Yes, ma chérie,” he murmurs, standing slowly, moving around the table with deliberate ease. His eyes never leave yours, every step measured, controlled, calculated. “It’s a possibility, isn’t it?”

“Charles-” You’re shaking your head now, as if trying to dispel the thought, as if the mere suggestion is too much to handle. “I … I can’t be … I’m not-”

“We don’t know that,” he counters softly, his voice almost a purr as he closes the distance, his hand coming to rest lightly on your shoulder. He feels the way your body tenses under his touch, the way you’re holding yourself so still, like a deer caught in headlights. “And if you are …”

He trails off, his hand sliding down to your arm, his fingers brushing against your skin in slow, soothing strokes. You don’t move, don’t pull away, your gaze locked on his, wide and unblinking, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

“Breathe,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your forearm. “It’s okay. Just breathe, baby.”

“But-” You’re struggling to find words now, your voice breaking on the sound, your eyes darting wildly, like you’re searching for some kind of escape, some kind of explanation that makes this all make sense. “I — we didn’t. We-”

“I know,” he soothes, his tone soft, patient, as if he’s speaking to a frightened child. “I know. But these things happen. And if it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.”

You stare at him, your chest heaving, your fingers trembling against the table. He can see the panic rising in your eyes, the fear, the uncertainty, the way your mind is racing, struggling to process what he’s just said.

“I-I don’t-” You swallow hard, your throat working, your gaze flicking away, like you can’t bear to look at him, like you’re trying to hold onto some semblance of control. “I can’t be pregnant. I can’t-”

“But what if you are?” He murmurs, stepping closer, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with feather-light pressure. “What if, right now, there’s a little piece of us growing inside you?”

You let out a choked sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, your shoulders trembling under his touch. “Charles, please, I … I can’t-”

“Shhh.” He moves in closer, his other hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, his body pressing against yours, caging you in, holding you steady. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“Okay?” You let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh, your hands coming up to press against his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “How can this be okay?”

“Because,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the crown of your head, his breath warm against your hair. “Because it would be a good thing. Because I love you. Because this is what I want.”

“Charles …” You sound lost, your voice wavering, your fingers clenching in his shirt, like you’re trying to ground yourself, like you’re trying to hold onto something solid, something real. “I-I don’t know if I’m ready for this. I don’t know if I can-”

“You can,” he murmurs, his voice firm, reassuring. “You can, and you will. And I’ll be right here with you every step of the way.”

He tilts your head up gently, forcing you to meet his gaze, his eyes dark and intense, his expression softening as he takes in the fear, the confusion, the overwhelming uncertainty swirling in your eyes.

“Listen to me,” he says quietly, his thumb brushing over your lower lip, his gaze locked on yours. “If you’re pregnant, it’s because it’s meant to be. Because we’re meant to be. This is a good thing, baby. This is everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“Charles, I …” You shake your head, tears welling in your eyes, your voice breaking on a sob. “I don’t know if I can do this. I’m not ready to be a mother. I’m not-”

“You’ll be perfect,” he whispers, his hands tightening on your face, his gaze burning into yours. “You’ll be the perfect mother, and I’ll be the perfect father, and we’ll be the perfect family. You and me. And our baby.”

“Our baby,” you repeat, your voice a broken, breathless whisper, the words catching in your throat like you can’t quite believe them.

“Yes.” He smiles, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Ours.”

You let out a shuddering breath, your body trembling in his arms, your eyes wide and wet with unshed tears. He can see the way you’re struggling, the way you’re fighting to hold onto something, anything, that makes sense, that feels real.

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs again, his voice a low, soothing murmur, his hands sliding down to your waist, pulling you closer. “I promise. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“But-”

“No buts.” He cuts you off gently, his lips brushing against your temple, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close. “If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. And I’ll be right here with you. No matter what.”

You let out a soft, broken sob, your body crumpling against his, your fingers clutching at his shirt as you bury your face in his chest. He holds you, his hands stroking your back, his voice a low, soothing murmur as he whispers reassurances, promises, vows.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your hair. “You’ll see. It’ll be perfect. Just like you.”

He tightens his arms around you, his gaze dark and possessive as he stares over your head, his mind already racing, already planning, already imagining what it’ll be like.

A baby. A family. A future.

His.

All his.

***

Charles has always been meticulous — about his training, his racing, every part of his life carefully calculated, a system he maintains with the precision of a clock. But this, this is different. This is obsession. And it consumes him entirely.

It started the morning after the conversation, when you looked so fragile, cradled in his arms, your voice a whisper of uncertainty. Charles felt something shift inside him, something deep and primal. He’d reassured you, soothed you, but the truth was, he already knew. He could feel it in his bones: this was happening. This had to happen.

For weeks, he watches you closely. Everything you do, every move you make — he sees it all. You, oblivious in your softness, in the way you trust him, rely on him. You don’t see the way he lingers on you when you aren’t paying attention, how his eyes darken with possessive thoughts. You don’t notice the subtle changes in the way he cares for you, the little routines he’s established — checking your moods, your energy levels, the way your skin looks, the tiniest shifts in your appetite.

Charles starts tracking everything. He memorizes your menstrual cycle, noting the dates carefully, storing them in his phone, his mind keeping a careful countdown to when things might change. When you might miss it. It’s a private ritual now, something he doesn’t share with you, something he keeps close to his chest. It feels like power, like control, like the final piece falling into place.

When you’re a few days late, Charles feels it before you do. He watches your morning routines with more focus than ever, noting your subtle tiredness, the slight changes in your mood. You don’t even realize, but he knows. The idea of telling you swells in his chest, but he holds back. Not yet. Not until he’s sure.

Instead, he begins preparing, silently, methodically.

Every morning, Charles brings you lemon water, just like always, but now with a small twist. He crushes prenatal vitamins into the glass before mixing it, careful to stir it in completely so the powder dissolves. He watches as you take your first sip, the way your lips curl around the edge of the glass, unaware of the extra care he’s put into it. He knows it’s too early, far too early to be certain, but that doesn’t stop him. He wants you and the potential life growing inside you to be nourished, prepared.

In the evenings, it’s the same ritual with your tart cherry juice, the one you love before bed. You’ve commented how well you’ve been sleeping lately, how rested you’ve been feeling. Charles smiles at that, hiding his satisfaction behind his glass. He can already imagine the next steps, the way your body will change, grow round with his child, the way your life will transform to center around him and the future he’s already decided for both of you.

When you fall asleep at night, Charles often stays awake, his mind racing, his hand drifting to your belly while you breathe softly beside him. His palm lingers there, the flatness of your stomach warm beneath his touch, and he lets his mind wander — imagining how in just a few short months, that same spot will be rounded, filled with life. His life. His blood. The perfect blend of both of you.

He closes his eyes and pictures it — how you’ll look swollen with his child, how your body will change, become fuller, softer, more his than ever. He pictures you, tired and glowing, his hand resting possessively over your bump, the world knowing exactly who you belong to.

Sometimes, in the dead of night, when the room is still and your breath is steady in your sleep, Charles whispers to your belly. His lips brush against your skin, words murmured softly into the night, a promise to the life growing there. He tells you how he’ll take care of you, how everything will be perfect. How you don’t need to worry, because he’ll handle everything.

He tells you how much he loves you, how this is what he’s wanted all along.

In the mornings, you don’t seem to notice the small changes in him, the way he hovers just a bit more, the way his touch lingers on your stomach longer than it used to. You think it’s tenderness, maybe affection, and in a way, it is. But it’s more than that — it’s control, it’s possession, it’s the weight of something bigger than either of you.

One evening, over dinner, Charles watches you more intently than usual. You’re laughing, oblivious, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside him. You’ve been tired lately — more than usual — and you’ve mentioned feeling a bit off, but you brush it away, thinking it’s just stress, or maybe a cold coming on. He nods, agreeing with you, but inside, he knows better. He knows exactly what’s happening.

After dinner, as you’re curled up on the couch, Charles leans against the kitchen counter, his eyes fixed on you, a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You glance up at him, your head tilted in question.

“What?” You ask, a soft laugh in your voice.

“Nothing,” he replies smoothly, moving towards you. “Just … thinking.”

“About what?”

Charles sits beside you, pulling you gently into his lap, his hands resting on your hips. He brushes a kiss to the side of your neck, his lips lingering there for a moment before he speaks, his voice low, careful.

“About how lucky I am.”

You smile, relaxing against him, your head resting on his shoulder. “You’re sweet.”

He hums in response, his hand trailing down to your stomach, his fingers spreading across the flat surface. You don’t seem to notice the significance of the gesture, too lost in the warmth of his touch, the closeness between you.

“We should talk about the future,” he says suddenly, his voice calm but firm.

You shift slightly in his lap, looking up at him with a hint of surprise. “What do you mean?”

Charles’ fingers trace absent circles over your stomach, his gaze darkening as he imagines the changes that are coming. “I mean … where we’re heading. Together.”

You blink, the question hanging between you, heavy with implications. “We’ve talked about the future before.”

“Not like this.” His voice is steady, his thumb brushing over your skin with deliberate care. “I mean … in a few months, things could change. We could be expecting.”

Your breath catches, and for a brief moment, he feels you stiffen in his arms. But he’s prepared for this, for your uncertainty, your hesitation. He’s been planting the seeds for weeks now, and he knows exactly how to ease you into it.

“I don’t think I’m …” You trail off, your voice wavering slightly. “I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

Charles’ grip tightens just a fraction, not enough for you to notice, but enough for him to feel the need to maintain control. “You don’t have to be ready right now,” he says softly, his tone soothing. “But when it happens — if it happens — it’ll be the most beautiful thing in the world.”

You swallow hard, your fingers curling slightly against his chest. “I just … I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to worry about anything,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your temple. “I’ll take care of everything. You know that.”

He feels you nod slowly, your body relaxing slightly in his arms, and he knows he’s won, at least for now. He plants a kiss on your forehead, holding you close, his hand never leaving your stomach.

In the quiet of the night, when you’re fast asleep, Charles slips out of bed and heads to the kitchen, carefully preparing your morning lemon water. The vitamins are crushed to a fine powder, dissolved into the liquid, the routine seamless now. He’s preparing you, your body, for the life he’s creating with you, and soon enough, you’ll know it too.

When he returns to bed, he slides in behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist, his hand resting once again on your stomach. He falls asleep that way, his dreams filled with the image of you — round, glowing, full with his child.

His future is set. And you? You belong to him completely now.

***

Charles is lounging on the couch when you walk in, your eyes wide and rimmed with red. He looks up, a subtle smile curving his lips as he watches you shuffle closer. You seem nervous, almost hesitant — he’s noticed it for days now, the way you’ve been quiet, reflective. But he doesn’t prod. He doesn’t ask. He’s been waiting for this, letting it build, savoring the anticipation. And now, it’s finally here.

You stand before him, clutching something small in your hand, your fingers trembling. He sees it, the faint outline of the white plastic, and his heart quickens, a rush of satisfaction coursing through him. But he schools his features into calm curiosity, tilting his head as if he has no idea what’s coming.

“Charles …” Your voice is barely more than a whisper, wavering with emotion. “I, um, I have something to show you.”

He sets his book aside, focusing all his attention on you. “What is it, ma chérie?” The endearment falls from his lips smoothly, wrapping around you like a soft blanket.

You take a shaky breath, stepping closer. Then, with a trembling hand, you hold out the pregnancy test. Charles lets his gaze drop to it, his brow furrowing in feigned confusion. He lets the silence stretch, just for a moment, just enough to feel the weight of your emotions press into him.

“What …” He blinks, his eyes widening as if in realization, then flicks his gaze up to meet yours, his mouth falling open slightly. “Is that-”

You nod quickly, your breath hitching, a sob escaping your lips. “I’m pregnant, Charles,” you choke out, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I-I didn’t know how to tell you, and I’m so scared, and-”

He’s up in a second, his arms wrapping around you tightly, pulling you against his chest. He holds you close, feeling the way you tremble against him, your tears soaking into his shirt. He strokes your hair, his other hand sliding down to rest on your back, keeping you anchored to him.

“Shh, mon amour, shh,” he murmurs, his voice soothing, tender. He presses his lips to the top of your head, breathing you in. “It’s okay, everything’s okay.”

You clutch at his shirt, your sobs muffled against his chest. “I-I didn’t think … I didn’t think it would happen so soon.”

He pulls back slightly, cupping your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your tears. His eyes search yours, a soft, affectionate smile forming on his lips. “I can’t believe it …” he murmurs, letting his voice crack with supposed disbelief. “You’re pregnant?”

You nod again, more tears spilling over, your emotions a whirlwind of fear and uncertainty. “Y-Yes … I just found out. I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but-” You break off, another sob tearing through you. “Charles, I’m so scared. What if-”

“Hey, look at me.” His voice is firm now, his grip on your face gentle but unyielding. He waits until your eyes lock onto his, your gaze swimming with emotion. “This is the best news I’ve ever received, okay? You’re carrying our child. Our baby.” He pauses, letting the words sink in, then leans forward to kiss your forehead, lingering there, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m so happy, mon amour. So, so happy.”

He feels your body soften against his, the tension easing slightly. But there’s still that uncertainty in your eyes, that flicker of doubt that makes his heart tighten. You’re so fragile, so beautifully breakable. And he’ll do everything in his power to make sure you never feel that doubt again.

“Come here,” he whispers, taking the test from your hand and setting it aside on the coffee table. He pulls you onto his lap, his hands settling on your hips, guiding you until you’re straddling him, your knees pressing into the cushions on either side of his thighs.

“Charles …” you start, but he shushes you gently, his hands sliding up your sides, tracing the shape of your waist, the curve of your breasts. He can’t stop touching you, can’t keep his hands still, not when you’re sitting on him like this, flushed and teary-eyed, carrying his child.

“Let me show you how happy you’ve made me,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your jaw, trailing soft kisses along your skin. He feels you shiver, your hands gripping his shoulders, your breath hitching as he nips lightly at your neck. “Let me celebrate with you, hmm?”

Your response is a broken sound, half-whimper, half-sob, your body leaning into his touch. He shifts beneath you, his hands moving to your thighs, pushing up the hem of your dress. He feels the fabric slide higher, baring more of your skin, and he can’t help the way his fingers tighten, his grip almost bruising.

“Do you know how much I love you?” He breathes against your ear, his voice low, rough with want. “How much I love the thought of you carrying my baby?”

You shake your head, your eyes fluttering closed as he moves lower, his mouth trailing over your collarbone, leaving a path of heat in its wake. “N-no … I … I don’t know …”

Charles growls softly, his hands sliding up to cup your ass, pulling you flush against him. He’s hard, straining against his pants, and he can see the way your cheeks flush, the way your breath catches as you feel him. “I’m going to make you feel it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot on your throat that always makes you squirm. “I’m going to make sure you know just how much I love you, how much I need you.”

Before you can respond, he’s lifting you, positioning you over him. His hands are firm on your hips as he drags you down slowly, letting you sink onto him inch by inch. He watches your face, the way your eyes widen, your mouth falling open in a silent gasp. He feels every tremble, every quiver of your muscles as you take him, and it’s almost too much. Almost.

But he drags it out, holding you in place, his fingers digging into your skin. He doesn’t let you move, doesn’t let you do anything but feel. He’s deep, too deep, and he can see the way your body strains, the way you’re already close to unraveling, and he loves it. Loves seeing you like this — vulnerable, overwhelmed, completely at his mercy.

“Charles,” you whimper, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “Please, I-”

“Shh, chérie,” he coos, his hands holding you still as he thrusts up slowly, savoring the way you tighten around him, the way you moan helplessly. “You’re okay. Just let me take care of you.”

He sets a slow, deliberate rhythm, his thrusts deep and measured, his eyes locked on your face. He watches every flicker of emotion, every gasp, every tear that slips down your cheeks. You’re sobbing now, incoherent with need, your body trembling as he drags you closer and closer to the edge.

“Please,” you beg, your voice breaking, your hips trying to move against him, but he doesn’t let you. He keeps you still, his thrusts controlled, his gaze never leaving yours. “Please, Charles, I need-”

“I know what you need,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl. He pulls you down harder, driving into you with a force that makes you cry out, your head falling back. He feels the way you clench around him, the way your body convulses, and he knows you’re close, so close. “But I’m not going to give it to you yet. Not until I know you understand.”

“Understand w-what?” You sob, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling desperately.

“That you’re mine,” he growls, his thrusts quickening, his grip on your hips almost punishing. “That you and this baby — everything — belongs to me.”

“Yes, yes, I’m yours, I-” Your voice breaks, your body arching against him, and he finally lets you move, lets you ride him, lets you take what you need.

“Good girl,” he breathes, his hands guiding you, his own release building, tightening in his core. “That’s it, baby, take what you need. Show me how much you want it.”

You shatter around him, your body convulsing, your sobs filling the room. He feels you come undone, feels the way you squeeze him, and it sends him over the edge, his own release crashing through him. He buries himself deep, holding you against him as he spills into you, his teeth gritted, his eyes squeezed shut.

For a moment, everything is still, the only sound your ragged breathing, the quiet hum of satisfaction filling the space between you.

Then he moves, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his hands stroking your back gently, soothingly.

“See?” He whispers, his lips brushing against your skin. “We’re going to be so happy, mon amour. You, me, and our baby. Everything will be perfect.”

***

The bell above the shop door jingles softly as you step into the boutique, the warm, perfumed air inside a welcome contrast to the chilly breeze outside. Charles follows behind you, his hand resting possessively on the small of your back as you browse through the racks of maternity clothes. Your stomach is starting to show now, rounding out beneath the soft fabric of your sweater, a tangible reminder of the life growing inside you.

Charles glances down at your belly, a surge of pride swelling in his chest. He loves seeing you like this — loves the way your body is changing, loves the way you’ve become even more beautiful, more radiant. You’re glowing, in every sense of the word, and he can’t get enough of it.

“Do you like this one?” You ask, holding up a pale blue dress, your voice hesitant.

Charles steps closer, his hand sliding from your back to your waist, resting just above your bump. He tilts his head, considering the dress for a moment, before nodding with a smile.

“It’s perfect,” he says, his voice low and reassuring. “You’ll look beautiful in it.”

You smile shyly, your fingers smoothing over the fabric, and Charles feels a pang of possessiveness twist in his gut. He loves how soft and uncertain you’ve become lately, how much more you lean on him, rely on him. The pregnancy has made you vulnerable, and he thrives on it. He loves that you need him now, in a way you never did before.

As you make your way to the changing rooms, Charles lingers by the front of the shop, his eyes scanning the street outside through the large glass windows. He’s always on alert, always watching. He has to be. The thought of anyone — or anything — interrupting this perfect life he’s built with you sends a cold shiver down his spine.

And then he sees him.

Arthur.

Standing across the street, frozen in place, his eyes locked on Charles through the glass.

Charles’ entire body tenses, his jaw clenching tightly. He can see the shock in Arthur’s expression, the way his eyes flicker past Charles, searching for something — no, for someone.

You.

Arthur’s gaze drops to the shop window, and Charles knows exactly what he’s looking at. Your silhouette, your round belly. The truth hitting Arthur like a punch to the gut.

For a brief, panicked moment, Charles’ mind races. He thought he’d been careful. He’s kept Arthur away from you, made sure to cover all his tracks, kept you isolated from anything or anyone that could pull you back into your old life. He’s been meticulous, perfect in his control.

But now, standing across the street, is the one person Charles never wanted you to see again.

Arthur begins to move, his feet carrying him across the street with determined strides, and Charles feels a cold sweat break out across the back of his neck. He can’t let this happen. Not now. Not when everything is so perfect.

You emerge from the changing room, your face bright and cheerful as you smooth the fabric of the blue dress over your belly. “What do you think?” You ask, spinning around slightly to give him a full view.

Before Charles can respond, the door to the boutique swings open with a sharp clang, and Arthur steps inside.

“Y/N,” Arthur’s voice cuts through the air like a blade, filled with shock, disbelief, and something else — something darker, more dangerous.

You freeze, your eyes going wide as you turn to face him. For a moment, the three of you are locked in a tense, suffocating silence. You glance between them, confusion written all over your face.

“Arthur?” You whisper, your voice barely audible.

Charles steps forward, immediately positioning himself between you and his younger brother, his hand gripping your arm tightly. “What are you doing here?” His voice is low, warning, dripping with barely contained anger.

Arthur’s eyes never leave you, flicking from your face to your belly with an expression that’s a mixture of hurt and fury. “What the hell is going on, Y/N?” He demands, ignoring Charles completely. “You’re … you’re pregnant?”

Your face drains of color, your hand instinctively moving to cover your stomach, as if to shield the truth from him. “I … I can explain,” you stammer, your voice trembling.

But Charles isn’t having it. He steps forward, his body blocking Arthur’s view of you completely. “She doesn’t owe you an explanation, Arthur,” he snaps, his voice cold and cutting. “You’re not part of her life anymore.”

Arthur’s face twists with anger, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Not part of her life?” He spits, his eyes blazing. “I was with her for six years, Charles. Six years. You think you can just waltz in and take everything?”

Charles’ grip on your arm tightens, his nails digging into your skin as he fights to keep control. His pulse is racing, his heart pounding in his chest, but outwardly, he remains calm, collected. He has to. He can’t let Arthur get under his skin, can’t let him ruin everything he’s worked so hard for.

“Y/N made her choice,” Charles says evenly, his voice cold as ice. “She chose me. We’re having a baby together. Our baby.”

Arthur’s face goes pale, his eyes widening in disbelief. “A baby?” He whispers, his voice breaking. He looks at you then, truly looks at you, and Charles can see the hurt in his eyes, the devastation. “Is that true, Y/N?” He asks, his voice shaking. “You’re having his baby?”

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Tears well up in your eyes, and you look down, avoiding Arthur’s gaze.

Charles takes a step closer to Arthur, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You need to leave, Arthur. Now.”

But Arthur doesn’t move. He just stands there, staring at you, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. “How could you do this?” He chokes out. “How could you betray me like this?”

Before you can respond, Charles steps in front of you again, his body a wall of protection. “She didn’t betray you,” he says harshly. “You were never good enough for her. You could never give her what she needed. I could.”

Arthur’s face twists with fury, and he takes a threatening step forward. “You’re sick, Charles,” he growls. “You manipulated her, didn’t you? You’ve been controlling her this whole time.”

Charles’ eyes darken, his hand clenching into a fist at his side. “You don’t know anything about us,” he says, his voice dangerously low. “You have no idea what we’ve been through. What we have together.”

Arthur looks like he’s about to explode, his fists trembling with barely contained rage. “You’re delusional,” he spits. “You think you can just take her and make her yours? You think she’s going to stay with you?”

Charles’ lips curl into a cold smile, his eyes narrowing. “She’s already mine,” he says, his voice soft but deadly. “She’s carrying my child. We’re going to be a family. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Arthur looks at you again, his expression filled with pain and disbelief. “Y/N, please,” he begs, his voice breaking. “Tell me this isn’t true. Tell me he hasn’t brainwashed you.”

But you can’t look at him. Your hand is still resting on your belly, your eyes filled with tears, and you shake your head slowly, unable to find the words.

Arthur lets out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I don’t believe this,” he whispers. “I don’t believe you’d do this to me.”

Charles steps forward, his voice sharp and final. “Leave, Arthur,” he says coldly. “Before I make you.”

For a moment, Arthur stands there, staring at the two of you, his face pale and broken. Then, without another word, he turns and walks out of the shop, the door slamming shut behind him.

Charles watches him go, his heart racing, his body thrumming with adrenaline. He turns to you, his hand moving to cup your face, his thumb brushing away your tears.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs softly, pulling you into his arms. “He’s gone now. He can’t hurt us.”

You bury your face in his chest, your body shaking with quiet sobs, and Charles holds you tightly, his hand resting protectively over your belly.

“It’s just us now, mon amour,” he whispers, his lips pressing against your hair. “Just us and our baby.”

And as he holds you close, a dark, satisfied smile spreads across his face.

Arthur was always a necessary sacrifice.

***

Charles is pacing the living room when the call comes through. His fingers drum against his thigh, jaw set in a grim line as he answers, putting the phone to his ear. He keeps his voice low, careful not to let it carry down the hall where you’re napping in his bed. Where you’re safe.

“Is it handled?” He asks, words clipped and impatient.

His manager’s voice comes through the speaker, tight and strained. “We’re working on it. But the story’s already circulating. It’s gaining traction.”

Charles squeezes his eyes shut, frustration and anger twisting through him like a hot blade. This was not supposed to happen. He made sure of it. He thought he’d made sure Arthur was too broken, too defeated to put up a fight.

“Fix it,” he grinds out, his grip on the phone tightening. “I don’t care what it takes — just make it disappear.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, the silence stretching thin and taut, before his manager responds quietly, “It’s not that simple, Charles. He’s not backing down. And the media — well, they love a scandal. Especially one like this.”

Charles’ teeth clench, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He knows exactly what his manager is implying. The story is out there. Arthur’s desperate, crazed accusations that Charles is holding you against your will, that he’s manipulative, unhinged, obsessed. That he’s stolen Arthur’s long-time girlfriend and trapped you in some twisted relationship.

Charles’ jaw ticks, fury simmering just beneath the surface. He wants to laugh. Obsessed? Maybe. Manipulative? Definitely. But you’re not a hostage. You’re his — his to love, his to protect, his to control. Arthur has no idea what he’s talking about. He doesn’t know anything about what you and Charles have together.

“Buy them off,” Charles snarls, each word falling from his lips like a command. “Or threaten them. Do whatever you have to do to make them stop printing this shit. And Arthur-” He cuts himself off, breathing hard, the urge to fly across the room and smash something almost overwhelming.

“Keep him away from Y/N,” he finishes darkly, his voice low and dangerous. “I don’t want him anywhere near her. Understood?”

“Understood,” his manager replies, voice tight. “But Charles … this could get messy. Really messy. I’m just warning you-”

“Just do it,” Charles snaps, cutting him off. “I don’t want excuses. I want results.”

He ends the call, his hands shaking slightly as he lowers the phone. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm the wild, chaotic storm raging inside him. He can’t lose his temper. Not now. Not when Arthur’s doing everything he can to tear them apart.

Charles turns his gaze to the shattered pieces of your phone lying in the corner of the room. It only took a second to crush it beneath his heel, to cut off your access to the outside world. He can’t risk you seeing what’s being said, can’t risk you hearing Arthur’s poisonous words.

If you did … you might start to doubt him. You might start to wonder if Arthur’s telling the truth. And Charles can’t let that happen. He won’t let that happen.

With a deep breath, he forces himself to relax, his expression smoothing out into a mask of calm. He has a plan. He always does. He’ll deal with the media, silence Arthur for good. And you … you’ll be none the wiser.

He’ll make sure of it.

Charles’ gaze drifts down the hall, his chest tightening with a fierce, possessive longing. He needs to see you. Needs to remind himself that you’re his, that Arthur’s pathetic attempts to tear you away from him are futile.

He heads to the bedroom quietly, pushing open the door to find you curled up on your side, still sound asleep. You look so peaceful, so delicate, your hair spread out across the pillow, your lips parted slightly. He moves closer, his eyes tracing the curve of your belly beneath the sheets, the swell of your pregnancy more visible by the day.

His heart clenches with a strange, overwhelming mixture of love and obsession. You’re carrying his child. His blood, his legacy. You belong to him in every way that matters.

But even that’s not enough for him. He wants more. Needs more. He wants to own every part of you — your body, your mind, your soul. He wants you to think of him every second of every day, wants you to be consumed by him, just as he’s consumed by you.

A dark smile curves his lips as an idea forms in his mind, a way to keep you distracted, to keep you from thinking too much about what’s happening outside the safe, perfect world he’s built for you.

“Mon ange,” he murmurs softly, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

You stir slightly, blinking up at him with sleepy eyes. “Charles?” You mumble, your voice thick with drowsiness. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, chérie,” he murmurs, brushing your hair back from your face. “I just thought … you might like a bath. Something relaxing, to help you unwind.”

You smile at him sleepily, nodding slightly. “That sounds nice.”

He scoops you up gently, carrying you to the en suite bathroom, where he sets you down on the edge of the large bathtub. He turns on the taps, the water rushing in with a soothing, steady sound. He adds a few drops of lavender-scented oil, the scent filling the air, calming and comforting.

Charles helps you out of your clothes, his hands lingering on your skin, his fingers tracing over the swell of your belly with reverence. He lowers you into the warm water, watching as you sink down with a contented sigh, your head resting against the back of the tub.

“Comfortable?” He asks softly, his voice a low murmur.

You nod, your eyes fluttering shut as you relax into the water. “Mmm … yes.”

Charles smiles, kneeling beside the tub. He reaches over and adjusts the settings on the jet controls, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he turns them on, directing the powerful stream of water right between your legs.

You let out a startled gasp, your eyes flying open as the sensation hits you. “Charles-”

“Shh, chérie,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing purr. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

Your eyes are wide, your cheeks flushed as the water pulses against you, the sensation building steadily, turning your body to jelly. Charles watches with dark satisfaction as you squirm, your breaths coming faster, your hands gripping the edge of the tub.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispers, his voice low and husky. “So perfect. So mine.”

You whimper, your hips shifting involuntarily as the jets work their magic, your body reacting helplessly to the stimulation. Charles’ hand slips beneath the water, his fingers sliding over your heated skin, teasing you further.

“Charles, please-” you moan, your voice breaking.

He hums softly, his lips ghosting over your neck. “Please what, mon amour?”

“I … I don’t know,” you gasp, your head falling back, your body arching in the water. “It’s — oh God, it’s too much-”

Charles’ eyes darken with satisfaction, his fingers trailing lower, stroking you in time with the jets. “Just let go, baby,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing, hypnotic lullaby. “Let me take care of everything.”

You cry out softly, your body trembling as the sensation crests, waves of pleasure crashing over you. Charles holds you steady, his touch firm and unrelenting, pushing you higher and higher until you can’t take it anymore, until you’re shuddering and gasping and begging incoherently.

And then, finally, when you’ve been thoroughly unraveled, when your body is limp and boneless, Charles shuts off the jets, his fingers gently stroking your skin as you slump back against him, utterly spent.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. He gathers you up in his arms, holding you close as you drift off, your breathing soft and even against his chest.

Charles’ lips brush against your hair, a dark smile curving his lips. He may not be able to control what happens outside these walls, but in here — in his world, in his arms — you’re his.

Arthur can try to tear you apart. He can try to expose Charles’ darkness to the world. But it won’t change a thing.

Because you’re never leaving.

***

Charles doesn’t tell you he’s going out. He leaves quietly in the early hours of the morning, long before the sun has risen. The only sound in the otherwise silent apartment is the faint click of the front door shutting behind him, and even that feels like a betrayal of his intent to remain unseen. He’s meticulous as he slips into his car, the leather seats cool against his back. The drive to Arthur’s location — some nondescript hotel in Nice — is a blur, the city lights flashing by in a hazy smear of gold and white.

His jaw is set, eyes cold and unyielding as he pulls up to the parking lot. He grips the steering wheel tightly, the skin of his knuckles taut, veins prominent. This is a loose end that needs tying, and he’s finally run out of patience. He’s given Arthur time — more than enough time to drop his accusations, to back off. He’d even sent a few pointed warnings through other channels, but it seems Arthur’s stubbornness knows no bounds.

No matter. This ends today.

Charles steps out of the car, the chill of the pre-dawn air nipping at his skin. He straightens his coat, taking a deep breath as he crosses the lot, his footsteps the only sound in the stillness. He can feel the coiled tension thrumming beneath his skin, the barely contained violence that always simmers just below the surface whenever Arthur’s name comes up.

It only takes him a minute to reach the room — third floor, end of the hall. Room 317. He can hear the murmur of voices inside as he approaches, one of them unmistakably Arthur’s, sharp and agitated. Charles pauses for a second, just outside the door, his pulse pounding steadily in his ears. He listens, picking up the sound of shuffling feet, the clink of glass against glass, a muffled curse.

Charles knocks once, the sound echoing through the otherwise silent hallway.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Arthur’s voice — hoarse, disbelieving. “Who the hell is it at this hour?”

No answer.

Charles knocks again, harder this time, the force reverberating down the length of his arm.

The door swings open, and Arthur’s face appears, disheveled and bleary-eyed. There’s a moment where Arthur blinks, his gaze taking in the man standing on the other side of the threshold as if he’s not quite registering what he’s seeing.

“Charles?” Arthur’s voice is incredulous, slurred slightly, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath. “What the-”

Charles doesn’t give him a chance to finish. He steps forward, crossing the threshold in one smooth, fluid movement, shoving Arthur back with a force that sends him stumbling into the room. The door slams shut behind them, and Charles’ hand is already around his brother’s throat, fingers digging into the soft, vulnerable flesh.

Arthur chokes, his eyes going wide, hands scrabbling uselessly at Charles’ wrist. “W-what the fuck are you doing?”

“Ending this,” Charles says softly, his voice calm and controlled despite the dark rage swirling through him. “I warned you, Arthur. I warned you to stop. But you didn’t listen.”

Arthur gasps, his face turning red, his body jerking as he tries to wrench himself free from Charles’ iron grip. “Y-you’re fucking insane!” He manages to choke out, his voice a rasp. “Y/N — she-”

“Don’t say her name,” Charles snarls, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. He tightens his hold, watching with detached satisfaction as Arthur’s face contorts in pain, his eyes bulging. “You don’t get to talk about her. You don’t get to even think about her.”

Arthur’s lips part, but no sound comes out — just a strangled wheeze, a desperate, broken noise. Charles watches him dispassionately, his expression blank as he waits, as he lets his brother teeter on the edge of unconsciousness before loosening his grip just enough for Arthur to suck in a ragged, shuddering breath.

“Charles, please-” Arthur rasps, his voice weak and desperate. “You’re — killing me-”

“Am I?” Charles tilts his head, regarding his brother with an almost clinical interest. “Because the way I see it, you’ve been trying to kill me. Trying to destroy everything I’ve built, everything I love. All because you’re too much of a coward to accept the truth.”

He lets go abruptly, shoving Arthur to the floor. Arthur collapses in a heap, coughing and gasping, clutching at his throat. He looks up at Charles, eyes wide with fear and confusion, his voice barely a whisper. “What truth?”

“That she’s mine,” Charles says softly, his gaze dark and unrelenting. “She’s always been mine, Arthur. You were just too blind to see it.”

Arthur shakes his head, his expression one of horror and disbelief. “No … no, that’s not true-”

Charles takes a step forward, his presence looming over his brother, his shadow swallowing the dim light of the room. “Do you really think she wanted you?” He asks quietly, his voice a soft, deadly murmur. “Do you really think she loved you?”

Arthur’s face crumples, his hands trembling as he pushes himself up, his shoulders hunched. “She did,” he whispers, his voice broken. “She — she was with me for six years, Charles. Six fucking years-”

“And yet she never let you touch her,” Charles cuts in smoothly, his lips curling into a cruel smile. “She never gave you what she gave me so easily. Don’t you understand? You were just a placeholder. A distraction. She was always meant to be mine.”

Arthur shakes his head again, his eyes filling with tears. “You’re lying. You-”

“Lying?” Charles laughs softly, the sound low and humorless. “Ask her yourself. Oh, wait — you can’t. Because she doesn’t want to see you anymore. She doesn’t even think about you anymore.”

Arthur flinches, his face crumpling. “Charles, please-”

Charles’ smile fades, his expression hardening once more. “I’m not here to beg,” he says coldly. “I’m not here to negotiate. I’m here to make it clear — to make you understand — that this is the end.”

Arthur looks up at him, his eyes wide and fearful. “What … what are you going to do?”

Charles leans down, his gaze locking onto his brother’s, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. “You’re going to disappear. You’re going to leave this city, leave this continent, and you’re never going to come back. You’re going to vanish without a trace, and you’re going to stay gone.”

Arthur swallows hard, his throat working as he tries to form words, his lips trembling. “And if I don’t?”

Charles straightens, his gaze never leaving his brother’s face. “If you don’t,” he says softly, “I’ll make sure you do.”

The threat hangs heavy in the air, a promise wrapped in steel. Arthur shudders, his eyes squeezing shut as he lets out a ragged, broken sob. He nods slowly, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“Good,” Charles murmurs, a satisfied smile curving his lips. “I’m glad we understand each other.”

He turns on his heel, heading for the door. He doesn’t spare his brother a second glance as he steps out of the room, as he walks down the hall and back to his car. He doesn’t look back as he starts the engine, as he drives away, leaving Arthur and the mess he created behind him.

He’s dealt with it. Arthur won’t bother them again.

And now … now he can go back to you. Back to where he belongs.

***

Charles plans everything meticulously.

When he returns to the apartment that morning, he’s all warmth and tenderness. He finds you still curled up in bed, blankets tucked around you like a cocoon. You look so peaceful, so beautiful in the early morning light, the hint of a bump peeking through the oversized T-shirt he had pulled over your head the night before.

He slips out of his clothes with practiced ease, folding them neatly on the chair by the bed. The sight of your bare shoulders, your slightly parted lips, the slow rise and fall of your chest — it’s enough to make his heart swell with possessive pride. He pads over quietly, slipping under the covers beside you, and wraps his arms around you, pressing his face into the curve of your neck.

The first thing he does is inhale deeply, taking in your scent — soft, warm, and uniquely yours. His hands move over your skin with reverence, tracing the curves of your shoulders, your waist, your growing belly. You stir slightly, murmuring something unintelligible, but you don’t wake.

Perfect.

It’s not until the sun has fully risen that he lets you stir awake, nudging his nose against your cheek and pressing kisses along your jaw until you slowly blink your eyes open. You turn your head, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips as you meet his gaze.

“Morning,” you whisper, voice thick with sleep.

“Morning, ma belle,” Charles murmurs, his voice low and tender. He pulls you closer, his hand smoothing over your belly. “How are my two favorite people today?”

You laugh softly, your eyes crinkling at the corners as you look down at the small swell of your stomach. “Still waking up.”

“Then let me help,” he breathes, lowering his head to nip gently at your collarbone. You gasp softly, your hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders as he trails a line of open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. His hands wander, exploring, kneading, until you’re arching into his touch, your breathing shallow and uneven.

“Charles-” Your voice is a soft, breathless moan, filled with the kind of trust and yearning that makes something primal in him twist and tighten. “We — ah, we have to get ready for the parenting class.”

He hums against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. “We have time.”

His lips close around a particularly sensitive spot just below your ear, and you let out a shaky whimper. He’s not sure how long he spends like that, working you up, savoring every sound, every shudder, every whispered plea that falls from your lips. But he knows exactly what he’s doing.

It’s only when you’re completely lost to the haze, your fingers clutching at the sheets, your body trembling with need, that he finally leans back, his breath coming in soft, measured pants. He reaches over to the bedside table, pulling out a neatly folded piece of paper and a pen, and places it on the bed beside you.

“What’s that?” You murmur, still dazed, your eyes fluttering as you try to focus on the form in front of you.

“Just a little thing to sign for the class,” he says smoothly, his tone casual, nonchalant. He settles between your legs, his fingers trailing up your inner thighs in slow, teasing strokes. “You know, to confirm our participation and all that.”

You glance down at the paper, brow furrowing slightly as you try to read it, but Charles doesn’t give you a chance to focus. He lowers his head, his mouth finding that sensitive bundle of nerves, and you gasp, your back arching off the bed as pleasure shoots through you.

“Charles — oh, god,” you breathe, your voice trembling. Your hands fly to his hair, tugging gently, but he doesn’t relent, his tongue moving in slow, torturous circles, his fingers digging into your hips to keep you still.

“Just sign it, ma chérie,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice a low, seductive purr. “Then I can make you feel so much better. I promise.”

You whimper, your eyes fluttering shut as you struggle to concentrate. He can see the moment you give in, your resistance melting away under the onslaught of his mouth and hands. You reach blindly for the pen, your fingers fumbling as you scrawl your signature at the bottom of the page, your hand trembling with each pass.

“There we go,” he coos, lifting his head just long enough to watch as you finish signing. “Good girl.”

He’s careful to fold the paper back up, slipping it into the drawer with a satisfied smile before turning his full attention back to you. You’re pliant, needy, your body arching and twisting beneath him, your breath coming in soft, desperate pants.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with possessive pride. “So perfect, so sweet. Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

You shake your head, your fingers curling in his hair, your voice a breathless whisper. “Charles, please-”

He knows exactly what you’re asking for, what you’re begging for, and it only makes him want to draw it out longer. He settles into a slow, torturous rhythm, his mouth and hands moving in perfect harmony, until you’re shaking, your thighs trembling, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

“Please,” you whimper again, your voice breaking on the word. “Please, Charles-”

“Shh, shh,” he soothes, pressing soft kisses to your inner thigh, his breath hot against your skin. “I’ve got you, mon cœur. Let go. Just let go for me.”

And when you finally do, your body going rigid and then melting into the bed as pleasure washes over you in waves, he’s right there with you, holding you, whispering soft, sweet words against your skin.

“That’s it, ma chérie. Just like that. You’re so beautiful like this. So perfect.”

He stays with you like that, his hands gentle as they roam over your skin, his mouth pressing soft, reverent kisses along your belly, your hips, your thighs. He savors the way you tremble, the way you whisper his name like a prayer, the way you cling to him as if he’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

And maybe he is.

When you finally come back to yourself, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure, he helps you sit up, his hands firm and steady on your shoulders.

“Ready for class?” He asks softly, his smile warm, his gaze soft as he looks down at you.

You nod slowly, still a little dazed, a soft, contented smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah … I think so.”

He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his heart swelling with love and pride. “Good.”

He helps you dress, his hands lingering on your skin a little longer than necessary, his eyes lingering on the small swell of your belly. It’s not long now, he thinks, his chest tightening with anticipation. Soon, everyone will know. Soon, there will be no denying it — no denying that you belong to him, that you’ve always belonged to him.

He tucks the signed marriage application form away carefully, making a mental note to drop it off at the Monaco Town Hall later. There’s no rush. It’s just a formality now. A piece of paper to make it official. Because you’re already his in every way that matters.

And soon, the world will know it too.

***

Charles can barely breathe.

He stands at the head of the hospital bed, his hand locked around yours, gripping tight enough to leave marks, but you don’t seem to notice. Your own fingers are trembling, clenched around his as if they’re the only thing tethering you to reality. Sweat beads on your forehead, dampening your hair, and your face is contorted with pain and effort as another contraction rips through you.

“It’s okay, ma chérie, you’re doing so well,” Charles murmurs, his voice strained with worry and something else — something darker, sharper, a fierce, primal protectiveness that twists in his chest like a living thing. He swallows hard, pressing a kiss to your temple, tasting the salt of your sweat on his lips. “Just a little longer, I promise. You’re almost there.”

You whimper, your head lolling to the side, your eyes half-shut with exhaustion. “Charles … I-I can’t-”

“Yes, you can.” His voice is firm, unyielding, his eyes blazing as he stares down at you. “You will. You’re the strongest person I know, and you’re going to do this. For us. For our son.”

The reminder seems to give you strength, and you nod weakly, sucking in a deep, shuddering breath as you steel yourself for the next wave. Charles can feel your grip tighten even more, and he shifts closer, his body almost draped over yours, his other hand smoothing over your hair, your shoulder, your belly — wherever he can reach, just to be touching you, grounding you.

“Focus on me,” he whispers, his voice low and urgent. “Just on me, okay? Breathe with me. You can do this. We can do this.”

It’s an eternity, an endless cycle of pain and panting breaths and whispered encouragement, until the OBGYN finally leans over, glancing between your legs with a nod of approval. “You’re almost fully dilated. Just a few more pushes, and you’ll get to meet your baby.”

Charles tightens his grip on your hand, his eyes fixed on your face, watching every flicker of emotion, every furrow of your brow, every flicker of fear and determination and exhaustion. He hates this, hates seeing you in pain, hates that he can’t just take it all away. But he knows this is what you wanted, what you dreamed of, and he’ll be damned if he lets his own fear ruin it.

“Just a few more, bébé,” he breathes, his voice low and rough with emotion. “You’re so close. You’ve come so far. I’m so proud of you. So proud.”

Your eyes flutter open, meeting his gaze, and for a moment, there’s something there — something raw and vulnerable and achingly beautiful. “Charles … I-”

“I know,” he whispers, leaning down to press his forehead to yours. “I know, ma belle. I love you too. So much.”

And then you’re pushing again, a raw, primal scream tearing from your throat, and Charles can only hold on, his heart pounding in his chest as the doctor’s voice rises over the chaos.

“That’s it! That’s it! Just one more, give me one more big push!”

You scream again, your whole body straining with the effort, and then suddenly, there’s a high, thin wail that cuts through the air like a knife.

Time seems to freeze.

Charles’ breath catches in his throat, his whole world narrowing down to the tiny, wriggling figure the nurse is holding in her hands, covered in blood and amniotic fluid and screaming its tiny lungs out.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, his voice breaking on the words. “Oh my god, he’s — he’s here. He’s-”

A nurse moves quickly, wrapping the baby in a soft, clean towel, and then she’s turning, holding him out to you, her face creased with a gentle smile.

“Congratulations, you two,” she says softly. “It’s a boy.”

You’re shaking, tears streaming down your face as you reach out with trembling hands to take the baby. Charles moves with you, his arms slipping around you to support you as you cradle the tiny bundle against your chest, your breath hitching with sobs.

“Hi,” you whisper, your voice trembling, filled with wonder and awe. “Hi, little one. Oh my god, hi …”

Charles’ heart feels like it’s about to burst, his chest so tight he can barely breathe. He looks down at the baby — his son — nestled in your arms, his tiny fists flailing, his face scrunched up as he lets out another wail.

“He’s … perfect,” Charles whispers, his voice thick with emotion. He reaches out, his fingers trembling as he brushes them gently over the baby’s head, feeling the soft, downy hair beneath his fingertips. “You’re perfect, mon fils. Absolutely perfect.”

The baby’s cries soften, his tiny body relaxing as he feels the warmth of your skin, the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. Charles watches, his gaze riveted to the small, scrunched-up face, the tiny fingers curling around the edge of the towel.

He can’t believe it. He can’t believe that this tiny, fragile life is his, that he helped create something so beautiful, so precious. It’s overwhelming, a tidal wave of emotions crashing over him, and he feels his eyes sting with tears, his throat tightening with a sob.

“Look at him,” he whispers, his voice choked. “Just … look at him.”

You nod, your own tears falling freely as you gaze down at your son, your fingers tracing over his tiny features with reverence. “He’s so beautiful,” you murmur, your voice breaking. “Charles … I — thank you. Thank you so much.”

Charles shakes his head, his arms tightening around you, pulling you closer, his lips brushing against your temple. “No, thank you. You did all the hard work. You brought him into this world. I’m just … I’m just so proud of you.”

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, your gaze never leaving the baby’s face. “We did this together,” you whisper. “All three of us.”

“Yeah,” Charles breathes, his voice filled with awe. “Yeah, we did.”

It’s a blur after that, nurses bustling around, cleaning up, checking your vitals, making sure the baby is healthy and strong. But through it all, Charles never lets go of you, his arms wrapped around you and his son, his gaze never wavering.

When the medical team finally leave, giving you some privacy, Charles shifts carefully, easing onto the edge of the bed beside you. He reaches out, his fingers brushing gently over the baby’s tiny hand, marveling at how small and delicate it is.

“Can I …” He murmurs, his voice tentative, almost shy.

You smile softly, your eyes still wet with tears as you look up at him. “Of course.”

Charles swallows hard, his heart pounding as you carefully lift the baby, placing him in Charles’ waiting arms. He shifts, cradling the tiny bundle against his chest, his breath catching as the baby lets out a soft, sleepy sigh.

“Hey there, little guy,” he whispers, his voice shaking. “I’m your papa. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

The baby stirs, his tiny face scrunching up for a moment before relaxing again, and Charles feels something inside him shatter and reform, something deep and primal and fierce.

“I promise I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs, his voice low and fervent. “I’ll protect you and your maman, always. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll make sure you have everything you could ever want, everything you could ever need. You’ll never have to worry about anything. I promise.”

He lifts his gaze, meeting yours, and his breath catches at the look on your face — so full of love and warmth and happiness. “We did it,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “He’s really here.”

You nod, your smile soft and radiant. “He’s really here.”

Charles leans forward, his lips brushing over your forehead, your nose, your lips, and then over the baby’s head, pressing soft, reverent kisses to each of you.

“I love you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “Both of you. More than anything.”

Your eyes soften, and you reach up, your fingers brushing over his cheek. “We love you too, Charles.”

And in that moment, holding his son in his arms, with you by his side, Charles feels like he’s finally found everything he’s ever wanted. Everything he’s ever needed.

His family. His life. His everything.

And he knows, with a certainty that’s as solid and unyielding as stone, that he’ll never let go of it.

***

Arthur watches from a distance, and it’s like staring through frosted glass into a life he no longer recognizes. The family picnic sprawls out on the pristine lawn of Charles’ estate, the manicured gardens framing a picturesque scene of domestic bliss.

You’re sitting on a checkered blanket under the shade of an old oak tree, a baby cradled in your arms. Your soft murmurs drift through the air, your gaze locked on the tiny face peeking out from beneath the blue cotton blanket. You look … peaceful. Serene. And despite everything, Arthur’s chest tightens painfully at the sight.

He’s too far away to hear what you’re saying to the baby, but he can see your lips moving, the way your smile brightens, the gentle curve of your mouth as you lean down and kiss the baby’s forehead. His nephew. Charles’ son.

It should have been his.

Arthur’s fingers twitch at his sides, his nails biting into his palms as he forces himself to stay still, to stay hidden behind the row of hedges that separate the lawn from the main driveway. He knows he shouldn’t be here. Knows he’s not supposed to come anywhere near you or the baby, not after everything that’s happened.

But he couldn’t help it.

The compulsion, the desperation to see you, to see his family — it had clawed at him until he’d caved, his resolve shattering like glass beneath the weight of his longing. He just wanted to see you. To see if you were okay. If you were happy.

But now … now he wishes he hadn’t come.

Because what he sees isn’t just happiness. It’s a life he’s been shut out of, a life that Charles has taken for himself, a life Arthur knows was meant for him.

You shift slightly, adjusting your hold on the baby, and Arthur’s heart gives a painful lurch as he watches you unbutton your blouse, the soft fabric parting to reveal the swell of your breast. You’re murmuring to the baby, your voice a soothing hum that carries on the breeze, and then you’re guiding the baby’s mouth to your nipple.

Arthur’s breath catches, his throat tightening as he watches you begin to nurse. It’s an intimate, tender moment, one he knows he shouldn’t be witnessing, but he can’t look away. His gaze is locked on you, on the way your face softens, the way your shoulders relax, the way your eyes flutter shut as you cradle your son against your breast.

Charles’ son.

Arthur feels something dark and bitter twist in his gut, something that tastes like envy and regret and loss all wrapped up in a tangled knot of emotion he can’t untangle. This should have been his. You should have been his. The baby — his nephew — should have been his child. He was supposed to be the one sitting beside you, watching over you, protecting you, loving you.

But instead, he’s been reduced to a spectator, watching from the shadows as his older brother lives the life that Arthur had built with you for six long years.

“Do you miss me?” Arthur whispers under his breath, his voice barely audible, swallowed up by the distance between you. “Do you ever think about me? Do you even remember?”

But you don’t answer. You can’t hear him. You’re lost in your own world, your attention focused entirely on the baby at your breast, on the tiny, greedy mouth suckling at your nipple.

And then, as if sensing his presence, you glance up — your eyes drifting towards the hedges where Arthur is hiding.

He freezes, his heart slamming against his ribs, his breath catching in his throat. For a moment, your gaze seems to land on him, your brow furrowing slightly in confusion. His pulse roars in his ears, his fingers curling into fists at his sides as he wills himself to remain perfectly still, to blend into the shadows.

But then, you blink, and the moment passes. Your gaze shifts away, back down to the baby, and Arthur lets out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging with a mixture of relief and disappointment.

You didn’t see him. You didn’t recognize him. You didn’t even notice he was there.

He’s invisible. Irrelevant. Forgotten.

And that knowledge cuts deeper than any knife.

“Enjoying the view, little brother?”

Arthur’s entire body jerks violently, his breath stuttering as he spins around, his eyes wide with shock. Charles stands a few feet away, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his tailored trousers, his expression cool and composed, but there’s a sharp edge to his gaze, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Arthur?” Charles’ voice is low and calm, but there’s an undercurrent of menace beneath the words, a warning that sends a shiver down Arthur’s spine.

“I-” Arthur swallows, his throat dry, his mind scrambling for an excuse, an explanation, anything that might defuse the tension radiating off his brother in waves. “I just wanted to see her. To see … the baby.”

Charles’ lips curl into a mocking smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You have some nerve, you know that? After everything you tried to pull? After you went to the press, after you tried to ruin my life, our life-”

“You ruined my life!” Arthur snaps, his voice breaking on the words, the pent-up frustration and anger and grief spilling over. “You took everything from me, Charles! Everything! She was supposed to be mine-”

“She was never yours,” Charles interrupts coldly, his gaze hard and unyielding. “Not really. She was mine the moment I laid eyes on her. You were just too blind to see it.”

Arthur flinches, his heart twisting painfully in his chest. “You can’t just take whatever you want, Charles. You can’t just-”

“Yes, I can.” The words are soft, but they land like a slap, leaving Arthur reeling. “And I did.”

Charles steps closer, his gaze locking onto Arthur’s, unblinking and fierce. “You’re lucky I haven’t done worse. You’re lucky I’m even letting you stand here and breathe the same air as her. But don’t push me, Arthur. Don’t test me. Because if you come near her again — if you even think about trying to take her or our baby away from me — I’ll destroy you.”

Arthur’s throat works, his hands shaking at his sides as he fights to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. “You’re a monster,” he whispers hoarsely. “You’re sick, Charles. You’re-”

“Happy,” Charles cuts him off, his smile widening, his gaze gleaming with something triumphant and cruel. “I’m happy, Arthur. We’re happy. And there’s nothing you can do to change that.”

Arthur’s chest heaves with ragged breaths, his vision blurring as he glares at his brother, his entire body trembling with barely suppressed rage and heartbreak.

“I hate you,” he spits, the words venomous and bitter on his tongue. “I hate you so much.”

Charles doesn’t even flinch. He just tilts his head slightly, his gaze flicking back to where you’re sitting on the blanket, completely oblivious to the confrontation happening just a few yards away.

“Maybe,” he murmurs thoughtfully, his voice softening as he watches you. “But you’re not the one she’s going home with, are you? You’re not the one she’s going to spend the rest of her life with. You’re not the one she’s given her heart to. So hate me all you want, little brother. It doesn’t matter.”

He turns back to Arthur, his smile sharp and satisfied. “Because in the end, I won.”

Arthur stares at him, his breath hitching painfully in his throat, and for the first time in his life, he feels completely powerless. Helpless. Defeated.

And as he watches Charles turn and walk away — back to you, back to your son, back to the life that should have been his — Arthur knows, with a bone-deep certainty, that he’s lost.

Lost you. Lost his family. Lost everything that ever mattered.

And there’s no getting it back.

[doromoni]

Off Time | LN4

Ships : Lando Norris x F1 Presenter! Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Subtags : She fell first; He fell harder, Misunderstanding, Mutual Pinning

A/N: Bruh this is so self indulgent! FYI~ I made this during my internship time (I was literally doing nothing). So heree enjoyyy ig?

Summary : You have pursued Lando’s affection, yet he doesn’t seem interested. Till your patience wavers and Lando realizes it too late. Will there be a right time for the two of you?

Masterlist

Part 2

It was another season of Formula 1 on the Silverstone track, the paddock was buzzing with excitement and cameras flashing as the drivers arrived one by one.

You were patiently waiting by the entrance of the paddock club eagerly looking for the family that loved you like their own. You promised them that you’ll see and spend time with the Norrises first before your busy schedule fully takes over and renders you unavailable for the rest of the weekend. It was expected considering that your line of work requires you with a mic and a camera on you at all times.

You feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, probably your boss Mia giving you orders on your next driver interview, and as you checked — you were right. Oh! It was at Mercedes with George. You were in the middle of replying to your boss when you suddenly felt arms wrap around your waist with force enough to make the both of you stumble for balance.

“Y/N! I missed you~ did you bring my stroopwaffles?” You were suddenly engulfed and bombarded by the youngest Norris sibling.

“Yes, Flo . Its at the hotel and I missed you too. Babe, I saw the horse show on video. You were amazing!” you exclaimed proudly as you hugged the younger girl back.

Your eyes then softened as you gazed at Adam and Cisca. They were smiling from ear to ear waiting for their turn for a hug.

“Hi, guys!” You finally said as Flo released you from her clutches and the Elder Norrises hugged you in one big group hug.

“Hi, darling. It’s so nice to see you again. Don’t get me wrong dear you’re amazing on TV — I just prefer to see you in person” Cisca comes at you as she pushes her husband aside to gather you alone in her arms; squeezing you.

“ Honey, let the poor girl breathe.” Adam Norris lovingly reprimanded his wife as he placed his hand on your head and messed with your hair.

You giggled at the family’s antics. Your eyes wandered around the area and you couldn’t help but look, hoping to see Lando’s presence nearby— hoping to have a chat or something.

The Elder Norris couple saw you looking around, probably looking for their son and they couldn’t help but feel awful for you.

“I’m sorry sweetie, Lando said that he’s running a bit late. We should go on ahead”

“Oh, yes of course. Shall we? I need to show you my office, I just got promoted!” You said trying to hide your disappointment with the achievement you got.

They knew that you liked their boy, and they were so happy about it. They would do anything to have you in the family. They just hoped that their son would finally clean his act up and see the amazing girl that was in front of him before it was too late.

As you walked through the paddock with Flo’s arm draped around yours, you couldn’t stop thinking about the British McLaren Driver.

He didn’t hate you, he didn’t hold anything against you— he just was… indifferent. Lando Norris didn’t like you the way that you did. Lando wasn’t interested, not in a romantic relationship type of way anyway. Or that’s what you concluded considering that for the past months of trying to shoot your shot, you were always turned down by the English Mclaren Driver.

His fellow drivers and best mates had always supported your attempts to pursue Lando. They said that you would be good for him, that you and Lando made sense. They knew that you would make him happy.

You met his family by chance and it bloomed when you saved them from being hounded by the press during the race where their son crashed; this resulted in a thank-you dinner and the rest was history.

His dad had loved you and wanted you in the family — so much that you were invited to intimate family gatherings and outings. His mom cherished your times together inside the kitchen, bonding over shared recipes and coffee dates. While his younger sister ran to you for comfort and advice. You were practically a Norris at this point.

However, the Norris sibling that held your fancy wanted nothing to do with you. To him, you were the family friend and the commentator from Sky F1. You were just a distant friend at best and for you that was enough.

Your mind was preoccupied with dazzling green eyes, the head of full curly hair, and now a blemish on his nose from a cut that you found most attractive on him. Your thoughts were fully circling Lando Norris and you didn’t realize that it was time to say goodbye to Adam, Cisca, and Flo.

“Ok guys, I need to work. I’ll find you when I can, alright?” You sulked as you dropped the Norrises off in front of Mclaren’s Motorhome. They said their goodbyes with hugs and cheek kisses. As you were leaving and them stepping inside the doors of McLaren — you were so sure that you saw the mop of curly hair that belonged to Lando Norris.

And you knew deep down that Lando was there the entire time and he just didn’t want to talk to you if not necessary. Knowing that information hurt you tremendously, but you continued to smile nevertheless.

***

Inside the McLaren Motorhome, just as you left, there stood Lando Norris clad in a black hoodie and sweats waiting for his family to enter. Yet his eyes lingered on the girl who seemed to catch his family’s affection like a bear to honey.

“Mum, Dad, Flo! How have you been?” Lando exclaimed as he hugged his family one by one.

“What is it, mum?” Lando asked his mother as soon as he spotted the disapproval on her face

“You said that you’ll be late, why are you inside the motorhome then?” Cisca’s eyes narrowed at her son.

Lando’s eyes shifted away from his mum, he didn’t like to lie to his parents. Rather to be quiet than lie.

“You know why, plus I’m thinking of dating someone else so please stop pushing Y/N to me,” Lando said somewhat indignantly.

“Son, Y/N is an amazing girl. Anyone would be lucky to have her. We just don’t want you to regret anything” His father explained pointedly however still gentle.

“Listen, I know that you love having her around. But, I just don’t fancy her like that. “ Lando languidly explained to his family his feelings for the commentator for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

“Lando, I love you, but you’re being stupid. Maybe Y/N could be better off with someone other than you” Flo mutters with her lips pouted out as she pulls her parents further into the motorhome, not bothering to wait for what seems to be a frozen Lando.

Lando knew to himself that he didn’t like you. He was sure of it. Then why does the thought of you with someone else make his stomach churn and his blood boil?

He pictured you aiming your beautiful smile towards another man. Lando imagined you riding in another man’s car and being your attentive and caring self. A memory of you doing the same to him came to his mind.

You were seated in the passenger seat of his Mclaren, the sound of the Japanese house’s “Sunshine Baby” slowly playing in the background as the three of you cruised through the streets of Bristol, while Flo was dozing off in the backseat. Everything was peaceful and calm as Lando drummed his hand to the beat. The drizzle of rain slowly pelted on the windshield, adding to the calmness.

“What song is this?” Lando suddenly asked you, catching you off guard. His eyes then met yours and held your gaze.

“Oh! It’s Sunshine Baby by the Japanese House. You like it?” You asked back, reluctance was evident in your voice.

“Mhmm, It’s very calming. I mostly listen to house music and EDM… something calm is great. Do have other recommendations?” Lando conversed with a smile on his face, his eyes meeting yours once again before looking back to the road.

“I have an entire playlist! Give me your phone” You showed Lando your palm gesturing for his phone.

As Lando hands his phone to you, Flo wakes from her sleep and demands food on the way.

“Lando I want food. Y/N please buy me food” The younger Norris pouted at you and his brother.

“What do you want to eat, Babe?” You asked Flo when you saw Lando nod in approval.

“Fish and Chips!” Flo exclaimed with enthusiasm. You saw the look of apprehension of the British Driver but he didn’t say anything— only silently drove to the nearest fry shop instead.

“I’ll be back with food.” You spoke as you went to grab your wallet. Lando was handing his card, but you only grinned at the driver then sticking your tongue out as you exited the vehicle.

“I got this covered London boy!” You teased, earning a laugh from both the Norris siblings.

The food didn’t take too long and before you knew it you were back inside the slick Mclaren as the smell of grease and salt wafting the air.

“Ohhhh, that smells amazing~ did you get us all Fish and Chips, Y/N?” Flo asked as she moved to get her food.

“Babe, Your brother doesn’t like fish. So I bought Chicken and Chips for him instead. While you and I get fish” You replied as you gave Flo her food and drink.

“You got me food too and it’s not fish?” Lando asked you with a look of both admiration and a bit of confusion.

“Mhm, you hate fish, right? So chicken it is!” You smiled at the McLaren Driver as you popped the straw in his diet soda and handed it to him.

You were always thoughtful and sweet to everyone, but Lando saw that you were especially so with Him and his family —you remembered every detail.

An uncomfortable sensation settled on his chest as Lando saw in his mind you sharing the bond you had with his family with the family of your other half.

“Lando! Come on” His train of thought was disturbed by the shouts of his dad. However, the feeling of stuffiness remained.

***

You were walking through the paddock towards Ferrari when you walked into Alexandra and Rebecca along the way. The two wags were sweet and inviting, despite their lives of luxury and glamour; their humility shined especially Charles’ girlfriend.

While you were friendly with Rebecca — you didn’t have anything that connected you other than Carlos Sainz. You always felt a bit of tension with the girl, on her part of course. Maybe because of your close relationship with Carlos, jealousy was a feeling you understood well, so you didn’t hold it against the girl. However, with Alex, Alex just like Flo has found solace in your presence in the paddock. You were the first of the few who welcomed her with smiles and open arms when she first started appearing in races; solidifying your bond with the art graduate.

And so Alexandra was the very first to advise you on the news that ultimately breaks your heart.

“Y/N, I heard from Kika that Lando has been going on dates with a girl named Magui for a couple of weeks now and she says that the girl would be coming to the races in the very near future” Alex gently said as she clutched your arms tighter around hers— offering comfort.

Your breath was caught in your throat and you didn’t know how to reply without bursting into tears.

You thought after Luisinha you had a chance or at least to be closer with the driver. But with rumors swimming around about him dating this Portuguese model with a checkered dating past, your chances grow slimmer and slimmer.

Maybe you were kidding yourself for hoping for Lando to reciprocate your feelings. Maybe you were being overly optimistic when everyone said that Lando would come around. Maybe the best was just to give up.

Maybe it was time to truly let go of Lando Norris.

***

It was impossible to miss each other in the paddock, one way or another Lando and Y/N crossed paths.

It was almost routine for Lando to hear your voice calling out his name as you waved your hand in greeting. A sweet smile was always ready for him.

That’s why shock and bewilderment overcame Lando as you walked past him as if he wasn’t even there. No greeting, no smile, not even a brief eye contact.

You went past the driver as if he weren’t there. As you continued to walk away, Lando couldn’t help but look at your retreating form with hurt— he looked wounded by your indifference.

He then heard your sweet voice calling out a name, but this time it wasn’t his— it was his teammates' name. “Oscar!” You bellowed at the Australian Driver; with a smile that Lando wished was directed at him.

***

It has been a month with Y/N’s interactions with Lando at a standstill. And at this point Lando cannot deny that it drove him mad, that you drove him mad.

He was no longer in denial about his feelings for you. He fully accepted it and he wanted you back. Lando Norris liked you the way you did.

[azzibuckets]

Could you pleaseee rigjt a cute little fluff one shot of Paige and azzi on the bus to an away game like them cuddling up in their seats taking a nap and like Paige insisting on carrying all of azzis stuff and azzi has to remind Paige to zip up her jacket before she goes outside so she doesn’t catch a cold just cute domestic stuff

a little distraction [pazzi]

summary/an: got an insane amount of requests for azzi wearing the bueckers shirt but i honestly have no clue what to do with that so here’s some game day fluff ig

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

Paige doesn’t really know what she did to deserve Azzi Fudd. After the younger girl sprained her knee in the game against Louisville, the last thing Paige expected when they got back to the hotel room was for Azzi to say she was proud of her.

But as they set down their bags, Azzi hobbled over to Paige, hands curling around her neck and tilting her head down so she could press a gentle kiss on her temple. “You know how proud I am of you?”

“Baby.” Paige covers Azzi’s hands with her own, bringing their clasped hands between them and squeezing slightly. “What?”

Azzi laughs, brushing her lips against the curly blonde baby hairs above her ear. “I said I’m proud of you.”

Paige’s eyebrows furrow. “You just injured yourself and all you can think about are my stupid ass shoes?”

“I never said it was about your shoes.” Azzi affectionately runs her hand through Paige’s hair, letting the ends twirl against her fingers. “Can’t someone just be proud of their girlfriend?” She holds Paige’s hand and presses a kiss to each of her fingertips, looking up at the blonde through her lashes. “Although having your own player exclusive helped.”

Paige looks down, a hot red blush spreading through her cheeks. “Stop thinking about me.”

“I deadass think about you all the time, so that’s not really possible.

“Stop it.” Paige gently pushes Azzi’s chest, only for the younger girl to catch her hand and pull her in tighter. “You’re being so corny.”

“You don’t like it?” Azzi’s eyes narrow.

“No, I love it,” Paige insists. “But are you good? How’s your knee?”

“Honestly, I’m just grateful right now.” Azzi looks down at her right leg, carefully grazing her fingertips against her slightly swollen knee. “Could’ve been a lot worse.”

“You scared the fuck out of me when you fell,” Paige admitted, leaning down to inspect Azzi’s knee as if she could do anything about it. Her touch is soft and featherlight against Azzi’s skin. “Does it hurt?”

“Little bit.”

Paige stands up, gently pushing Azzi’s hips against the bed so that she’s sitting down. Inserting a leg between hers, she hovers above Azzi’s lips with a smirk. “I can help you forget about it.”

“Mm.” Azzi’s eyes flutter shut as Paige’s thumb soothes her jawline. “A little distraction would be nice.”

•••••••••••••••

“Dude.” One moment, Azzi has her backpack and duffel bag in hand, and the next, they’re in Paige’s hands, being quickly rolled across the sidewalk until they’re in the trunk of the van.

“You shouldn’t be lifting too much weight,” Paige chastises, slamming the trunk of the car with a little too much force.

“It’s a sprain, not a broken leg, P,” Azzi grumbles.

Paige rolls her eyes, indicating for Azzi to get in so they can start driving. “Did you pack warm? Notre Dame’s colder than Storrs this time of year.”

“How do you even know that?”

“I did my research.” Paige taps her fingers against the wheel. “I brought your thermal leg warmer by the way. You forgot it.”

“Oh, shit.”

Paige sighs impatiently, and the way she’s restlessly fidgeting is an immediate tell. Azzi raises an eyebrow. “What’s with the attitude?”

“Ion know what you’re even talking about,” Paige mutters under her breath.

“You’re being weird as fuck.”

“Nothing.” Paige rolls her eyes, falling into silence before she suddenly decides that she should just say it. “I mean, I just think you should be taking better care of yourself.”

“What?” If anyone has known how hard Azzi has worked to get back to this point, it’s Paige, and her words are like daggers to her chest. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“I’m just saying, you’re a lil forgetful sometimes. I am too. But when you keep injuring yourself, you gotta be on top of it. Your knee gets sensitive in cold weather but you forget your thermal sleeve?”

“I take care of myself, Paige.” Azzi says. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

Paige’s eyes close momentarily before she remembers she’s on the road. “Look, my bad. It came out wrong.” She glances over at Azzi, reaching for her hand. Azzi’s hand is limp at first, unwilling to touch Paige, but Paige forces her fingers around Azzi’s. “I just wish you would remember to treat yourself good, not just okay. If it were the other way around, you know you’d be getting at me for simple stuff like that. You wouldn’t let me open my own doors for months after my ACL surgery.”

Azzi’s posture relaxes a little, and her hand softens around Paige, but she still looks out the window, refusing to spare her girlfriend a glance. “I guess.”

“No I guess, okay? You need to feel great in order to be great and to do that you need to be extra kind to yourself.”

“You should get into motivational speaking.”

“Shut the hell up.” Paige brushes her thumb over Azzi’s knuckle, sneaking a glance to make sure the younger girl’s not mad anymore. “I love you.”

Azzi shakes her head, fighting back a blush as she looks down at her lap. “Love you more, idiot.”

Once they board the plane, Paige is bolting down the aisle, making sure no one’s taken the seat next to Azzi. CD had held her back for a conversation, and the entire time she’d spent thinking about how Azzi better have saved that seat for her.

Her shoulders relax as soon as she sees Azzi in an empty row. “Seat taken?” Paige jokes as she stuffs her suitcase in the overhead container.

“Yeah. Morgan’s in the bathroom,” Azzi says, barely looking up from her phone.

“Are you serious?” Paige hasn’t thrown a tantrum in 15 years, but she feels like stomping her foot now. She’s tired and hungry and doesn’t want to be on a 5 ton machine in the air and all she wants to do is cuddle with her girlfriend. “I need to have a talk with the freshmen.”

“Kidding.” Azzi slides her phone into her pocket. “Thought it’d be funny to see you mad.” Patting the seat next to her, she flashes Paige a blinding smile.

Miffed, Paige plops down next to her girlfriend, curling into her seat so not a single inch of her body is in contact with Azzi’s.

“Come onnnnn,” Azzi laughs, finding Paige’s annoyance funny. She pokes at her cheek. “Lighten up.”

“I will if you let me have the window seat.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Will you guys shut the fuck up?”

Paige and Azzi turn around at the same time to face Aubrey. “Sorry,” they apologize in sync.

They stare ahead for a few moments, until Paige slightly turns her head.

“Yes.” She whispers.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I fucking hate y’all.” In a second, Aubrey is gone, making her way down a few rows to sit next to Morgan.

“You had the window seat on our LA flight,” Paige complains.

“Say one more thing about the window seat and I’m not letting you sleep on me.”

Paige immediately shuts up. Azzi stares at her for a second before heaving a sigh. “Oh my god, you big baby.” Azzi rolls her eyes and starts to unbuckle her seatbelt. “Move.”

Paige’s eyes light up. “Really?”

“I’m not doing it for you, dumbass. I need extra space to stretch my leg.”

“Okay, whatever.” Paige stands up, and they switch spots. “Let me know if hurts. I’ll get ice.” Then she slides her hand over Azzi’s knee, gingerly but protectively, as if the weight of her hand will protect it from any other injury.

[girlokwhatever]

ooou could you do paige x reader who joined kks live once (like she thought she was cute and they started talking ykwimmmm)

IKWYMMMM

✩ ₊˚.🎧⋆☾⋆✧₊ ⊹ nice surprise,,

paige bueckers x fem!reader

part two

“yo, that girl’s picture is nice,”

“PAIGE… girly pop.. which one?”

paige is pointing to your profile picture and saying your username out loud to kk, who’s hosting the live.

you don’t even have your phone, it was your roommate that joined the live. she had commented a few times and paige saw, zoning in on your picture. she thought you were pretty. to be fair, you loved your profile picture. it was you in a floor-length sundress and sunglasses, holding your younger brother’s hand.

kk takes advantage of paige’s blabber mouth, deciding to add you to the live and make her friend talk to you.

your roommate is freaking out, screaming your name and running into the kitchen where you’re cooking dinner.

“GIRL TAKE YOUR PHONE RIGHT NOW-“

“what did you do-“

you look on your phone screen and see the live, the faces of your college’s women’s basketball team staring back at you. you recognize some of them easily, paige bueckers and kk are two.

your roommate, evie, is leaning over to you and whispering that “paige saw your profile picture and thinks you’re cute so they invited you to the live but it wasn’t really you it was me so i’m bringing it to you so you can get game girl-“

she’s talking so fast you hardly even register what she’s saying. you practically feel your jaw hit the floor and your eyes widen at evie, then at the live, then back to evie. she’s grinning and winking at you like she’s just won you the lottery.

“guys this is her..”

“HEYYY GIRL! my friend here, paige- PAIGE boo stop playin. anyway, my friend paige thinks you’re cute.”

“oh! hey guys!” you’re waving gently and smiling. paige practically ran off screen and you think you might do the same. you’re a little camera shy and the hundreds of people watching doesn’t help anything.

you catch the way paige is peaking her head over the side of the screen and kk pulls her back down quickly. now you’re both looking straight at each other, a silent understanding of how awkward this moment is.

“heyyy, i’m pagie,”

she’s also smiling and waving and kk is in hysterics, as is evie. as terribly awkward as this is, you think paige is very nice looking as well. her wavy hair is down past her shoulders and she’s wearing a uconn jacket with pajama pants on. you’re dressed similarly in your pj’s and a sweater. but you’re definitely embarrassed because you have on an iowa sweater you got from your dad (it’s where he went).

“so you’re an iowa fan?” kk is asking you, one eyebrow raised. you’re blushing a deep shade of red now and hiding your face by pushing your phone back towards your roommate.

what is even happening?

“no guys trust she’s uconn all the way. we watch the games all the time.” evie is answering for you, pushing the phone into your hands again. you can’t tell if you want this moment to end or not.

“that’s good cause paige doesn’t mess with iowa y’know-“

“what?! i never said that! i never said that. iowa is cool.” she’s talking to you now, probably trying to make you feel better. you think it’s sweet how panicked she is. you feel the same.

“so.. girly pops.. do you wanna date paige?”

“kk! what- what kind of question is that?!”

both you and paige are equally gobsmacked but evie is yelling out in the background that you do want to date her.

“i.. um,”

“you definitely don’t have to answer that ma, ignore her please.”

kk is dying laughing and evie is too from her seat against the counter. paige is taking the phone and walking away, yelling at kk to be quiet and stop embarrassing her. you’re laughing a bit too but cover it up for a simple smile.

paige is really cute, you think.

“hey, look, i would actually take you out on a date.. if you want?”

you’re silent for a moment, looking up at evie with shock. never did you ever imagine that paige bueckers would be asking you out on a date, especially not on a tiktok live.

“um, yeah. yes. i would like that.”

she’s got this cheesy smile on her face, turning the phone away for a second. “alright, i’ll dm you. it was nice to meet you. i wasn’t expecting this but it was a really nice surprise.”

“yeah, it was.”

later that night she’s messaging you on instagram asking for your number. she decides to facetime you, apologizing for the whole live and saying she wishes she could see you in person instead.

next thing you know, you’re giving her your dorm location and number and she’s on her way to see you. you consider yourself extremely lucky for such a nice surprise.

⋆·˚ ༘ *🔭.ೃ࿐🀥☽｡⋆𓍯 ִֶָ.

I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED THIS!!

it’s a bit different but i really like it

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Professor (Wolverine)

Description: Y/N is late for class so Logan punishes her.

Warning: Smutty

Word Count: 1,105k

Request: Love love loveeee your Logan! Could you do something where he was teaching at the school or just subbing because he had to one day and reader is so turned on by it Logan decides to make her call him “Professor” and punish her for being late to class? Saw this prompt on Pinterest and I thought it could work with him!

Author’s Note: Thank you!!! I hope you like it!

Wade decided it would be so funny to turn Y/N’s alarms off and make her late for class. 8 am turned to 8:45 and she nearly sat up when she realized the time. “Fuck.” She yelled as she quickly got up and saw the time. She was gonna be late. And to a class that she enjoyed thanks to her hot professor.

She had to look pretty for him so she accepted that she was not going to be on time. “Hey sweetheart. Why are you still here?” Wade asked with a stupid smirk. She nearly growled at him realizing he did this, “You asshole! I’m gonna be so late!” He shrugged, “Yeah that’s the point babe.” She huffed and went to the bathroom to get ready. Wade was her roommate and best friends with Logan.

Fortunately Wade could keep a secret and kept the fact that Y/N had a crush on him. He found this out by reading her diary. Y/N was younger than both of them but Wade wasn’t a professor. Charles just argues to give him a room which happened to be with Y/N. 9:20 Y/N makes her way into the classroom. Eyes were on her including Professor Howlett’s. But his was a darker stare.

She could tell he was mad. “Y/N see me after class.” He said to her. She sighed but knew he would understand that it was Wade’s fault. He was besties with Wade so he knew how he was. The rest of the class, she was thinking  what she was going to say to him in her mind. Logan dismissed the class and everyone got up besides Y/N. She watched as all her friends and classmates left her behind with the Wolverine. “Y/N was there a reason why you were late?” He asked, staring into her soul.

“Well you know how Wade could be and he turned off my alarm so I woke up at 8:45.” She told him. He nodded and checked her out. “So you had 15 minutes and decided to dress like that and do your makeup like that?” She looked at him confused and he chuckled, “You decided to still take time to get ready.” She nodded, which was a mistake. He took what looked like a paddle making her arch a brow. “Come here kitten.” He said. She felt her pussy clench around nothing at that name and got up.

She walked over to him and he sighed. He motioned for her to come around his desk. She had wide eyes as she did so and stared at the paddle in his hand. He pulled her closer causing her to gasp. He chuckled and ran his hands up her ass. “You deserve to be punished, baby.” He said. She stared at him, shocked by his words. “Don’t ya think so bub?” She didn’t have an answer or the words. He pulled her on his lap and she looked down at him. “You’re so beautiful baby. But you’re a bad girl. Being late to my class just to look so good for me.” He said as his hands rubbed her ass.

She moans at the feeling. He watches her as he rubs her ass before taking the paddle and smacking it on her ass. She gasps loudly and stares at him as he chuckles. He does it again causing her to whimper. He pulls her down for a kiss and does it again. She moans into his mouth and he swallows it up. “You shouldn’t be enjoying this baby. It’s a punishment.” He whispered against her lips and bit her bottom lip. “I’m sorry Professor.” She whispered and licked up his lips. “Fuck.” He growled, feeling himself get hard.

He set the paddle on the table and moved his hands up her skirt. The feeling of her plush thighs in his hands was nice and the closer he got to her panties her breathing picked up. One brush against her clit she was but her lip to hold back noises. He leaned in and whispered, “Don’t hold back those beautiful noises.” He told her and she nodded. “Yes Professor.” She sighed.

He loved her calling him that in this setting. His hands pulled her panties down a bit, “keep calling me that baby. It’s so hot.” He growled and rubbed her clit causing her to gasp out. “Professor Howlett.” She whines as her hips move to fuck his fingers. He lets out a deep laugh at how desperate she is. She threw her head back and he circled her hole with his finger, “You’re extremely wet. Just imagine my cock penetrating this cute tight hole instead of my fingers.” She moaned at his words. “I wouldn’t have to imagine that if you would just give it to me.” She said and felt him enter her.

He chuckled at how wet his finger was getting and how hard her hips were moving. “Mmmm Professor.” She slurred as he was getting her off on his thick fingers. He leaned back in his seat and watched her as she chased her orgasm that was coming pretty quick.

Her breathing quickened and she felt dizzy with pleasure. Her fingers were nothing like his and it felt way better now that he was doing it. Her moans turned to sobs and her thighs shook and threatened to give out. “Fuck, I’m close.” She warned and her movements were sloppy. He watched with a smirk as she nearly fell over the edge. Right before she could cum he removed his finger from her clit and hole. She opened her eyes in shock and glared down at the man. He chuckled and got her off his lap.

She was so confused as to what was going on when he didn’t grab her and fuck her on his desk. She stood there breathing hard and waited for him to move, to take her there and now but he didn’t. “What?” He asked as they stared at each other. He had a boner that was clear as day but yet wasn’t doing anything about it.

“Why do you stop?” She asked. She sounded so pathetic and small with her words. He shrugged and didn’t move, “I told you, you were getting punished. Bad girls don’t get to cum.” He said and oh how that made her more wet. “What?” She asked and he chuckled. “Go on now you don’t wanna be late again.” He shoos her away. She leaves his classroom stunned by what just happened. Her body was begging for more and she had hoped that he would give it to her.

[twice-inamillion]

The Company

Peeping Tom

Smut and Story Building (Blackmail, Deep Penetration, Defloration, Creampie, Rough Sex, First Time, Choking, Light BDSM, objectification)

Chapter 6

3,585 Words

(You encounter a peeping Tom as you have fun with one of your assistants. She tries to use her newfound information against you, but instead, you end up using her. By the end, you found yourself a new toy to play with.)

You return to your office with IU after a business meeting outside the company. The two of you talk about what just occurred during the last few days and how busy it’s going to get moving forward. 

“How does it feel receiving your first private jet, sir?”

“I’m excited; I remember riding on my father’s jet when I was younger and always wanted one of my own. Now I just need to get it customized, and I’ll be able to use it.”

“Before that, we need to hire a flight attendant.”

“That’s true.”

“What about asking your father for one of his?”

“No, I'd rather get someone that has nothing to do with my father. I don’t want them to tell him anything about my business.”

“I’ll try to put a post online to hire an assistant.”

“Sounds good.”

“Any requirements?”

“Someone not too old, eye candy. You know my tastes.”

“Okay, I’ll try my best.”

“Also, any news on Big Hit and JYP?”

“I’ve heard that they are suffering a bit money-wise, so I think they are going to accept your offer.”

“Let’s see what they say. I don’t want to buy them outright, but I do want to hold a good chunk of shares, especially Big Hit. Bang Si-Hyuk seems like a pretty cool guy. He gave me a tour of his small building and even introduced me to his debuting group a while back. I really want to help the guy.”

“I’m sure he’ll be happy with anything you give him, sir.”

“Let’s see how it goes.”

IU then hands you some documents and says, “This is some information I found out about JYP Entertainment. If you look at the third page, you can see that JYP was going to debut a new girl group under the name “6MIX,” but it fell through.”

“Oh, it seems like they had a hard time debuting due to one of their members leaving.”

“Yes, they added another member, Sana. It seemed like they were going to debut, but another of their leader also left the company, so they ended up scrapping the whole thing.”

“Poor girls, so much hard work and training to debut only to have it scrapped.”

“Yes, one in particular has been in their company for a long time. I heard she’s a very good singer.”

“Oh really? If JYP accepts the help, maybe I can ask him to release them from their contracts and send them my way.”

“I’ll keep you posted if there is any news, sir.”

“Thank you.”

“Would that be all, sir?”

“Yes.”

“I have a meeting with one of the girls, so I’ll head to my office.”

“Actually, I’m going to grab a bite at the cafeteria, so I’ll walk with you.” 

The two of you walk towards the hallway, slap IU's ass, and walk the opposite from each other. Little did you know that you were seen by someone, the person IU was going to have a meeting with.

———— 

You get a message from IU that she has received some inflation about the deal with Big Hit and JYP as you are coming from the gym. It’s been a few days since you got any information, so you’re excited to see what’s going on. Without changing, you walk into her office, sit on the couch, and listen to some good news. 

You might not have noticed that Jennie has been curious about the relationship you and IU have since she’s a higher-up than you. She doesn’t know about your real position in the company and only thinks of you as one of the staff members. She was shocked when she saw you slapped IU on her ass and decided to follow you after that. 

Today, she had another meeting with IU and planned on having a light snack at the cafeteria before meeting up with her. Since she finished early, she decided to head up to the administration floor and relax on the outdoor patio before the meeting. She exits the elevator and makes it to the top floor. Jennie walks down the hallway and notices how quiet it is. She wandered around and found Irene’s and the CEO's office before hearing a faint noise coming from the hall. She quietly makes her way to the noises and gets to IU’s office from where the noise is coming from. 

Jennie tries to listen and places her ear by the door. She hears moaning coming from the other side. She tries to make up what the people instead are saying and can only decipher the male voices yelling that he’s going to cum. 

After some silence, she notices that the voices are getting nearer and runs towards the opposite side of the hallway to where the patio is. She peeks her head out and sees you coming out the door and IU fixing her skirt. 

“What the fuck, were they fucking in her office?”

“Omg, he’s getting it on with a higher-up in the company. Maybe I can use this.” 

———— 

Later that night, you get a message from Jennie from your staff phone. You read the message, and it is asking you for help moving some items around the house. You’re not in the mood to message her that you can do it tomorrow, but she is persistent. 

Somewhat annoyed, you put on a shirt and head down the elevator to the floor where their apartment is. You ring the doorbell, and Jennie opens the door within a few seconds. She wears a loose crop top and small shorts that show off her petite body. 

“You said you needed to move some stuff, right?”

“Yeah, it’s in the living room.”

You walk to the living room and see the items she was referring to. You spend about ten minutes moving the things, and Jennie is watching you up close the whole time.

“Is that all you needed?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Alright, I’m going. I’m tired.”

“Okay, but I’ll call you if I need anything.”

“Please, don’t. The stuff wasn’t that heavy. Maybe try moving it between the five of you before calling me.”

You can tell that Jennie got upset by this based on her facial expression. “I don’t know why you’re complaining; it's part of your job.”

“It’s not. I was just doing this as a favor since you all just moved into the apartment, but that was a few months ago. You girls can figure stuff out,” as you grab your phone and head for the door. 

Upset, Jennie yells, “If you’re going to be a douchebag about it all like the CEO, you’re messing around with his assistant.” 

You turn around and see a grin on her face, blackmailing you. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I know that the two of you were fucking in her office the other day.”

“Lies.” 

“I saw smack her ass a while back, and this time, you were leaving her office, and she was skirted and had a smile on her face.”

“If that’s true, how would you know?”

“I heard the two of you doing it.”

“No one is going to believe you.”

“Hmph, I wouldn’t be so sure. I have the CEO’s number.”

“You’re bluffing. You don’t have his number.”

“Yes, I do,” she said, holding her phone out.

“Alright, do it.”

“Okay, I will” and is about to press the call button but then says, “actually, he might be busy with important stuff. I don’t want to bother him.” 

You know she doesn’t have your actual work number, so you tease her, “I don’t think he’s busy. Why don’t we go visit him and tell him the situation? I think he would be more than happy to hear about it.” 

You can see her expression change, and she says, “No, I think we can just leave it like that.”

You grab her waist, “Let’s clear things up. I don’t want rumors that I’m messing with the CEO’s assistant.” You pull her hand, exit her apartment, walk towards the elevator, and press the button for the top floor.

Jennie looks nervous but tries to hide her expression. “He’s going to be upset that we’re bothering him.”

“I don’t think so, plus you’re blackmailing me.”

When you arrive at the top floor, the elevator rings, and you both exit and walk towards the hallway. You ring the doorbell, but there is no answer. 

With a faint smile of relief, Jennie says, “See, he’s not here, so let me waist go.”

“Hmm… let me try something.” You press the numbers on the keypad and hear a ring, unlocking the door.

“How did you do that?”

You pull Jennie and lock the door. “Seems like no one is home. CEO-nim! Jennie and I are looking for you!”

“Stop, he’s going to be made that we’re inside his home. Let’s go.” 

“No, I don’t want to; let’s have a bit of fun.” You walk towards the kitchen, open the fridge, and grab a beer. “He has some good taste, nice.”

“Leave it; he’s going to get mad!”

“No, he won’t.”

“Yes, he is. I heard that he’s mean.”

“Really? They said that?”

“Irene said that he makes them work to the bone.”

“No, I don’t. Wait until I see her tomorrow.”

Jennie’s reaction changes, and she says, “What did you say?”

“Nothing, forget about it.”

“You said something.” She stops, looks around, and walks to the living room. She sees pictures of you and freezes. 

Frozen for also a minute, she turns around and says, “Are you CEO-nim?”

You want to play it off, but know that the gig is over. Instead, you smile and say, “Dang, you caught me. Surprise!”

Many things go through her mind, like how she ordered you around the apartment, teased you, and even tried to blackmail you. 

“So what’s this about having my phone number and blackmailing me about fucking IU.”

Jennie gets on her knees, rubs her hands together, and begs, “I’m sorry. I was just joking around. I didn't mean it.”

“It wasn’t funny. Why did you do it?”

She bites her lip and tries to come up with a reason, saying, “I don’t know. I just wanted to tease you a bit and got jealous.”

“Jealous? What for?”

“You’re my type, and when I saw you and IU, I wanted to blackmail you so you can do whatever I say.”

“You know, that could have really gone bad and gotten someone hurt.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“If you’re sorry, how will you take responsibility?”

“Ehh?”

“You said I’m your type, and you’re pretty cute yourself. How about we have some fun?”

Jennie can’t believe what your words. She knows she said that you’re her type, but that was as a staff/trainer. Now that she learned you’re the one in charge of the company, she doesn’t want to do anything that might endanger her chance at debuting but, at the same time, finds it kind of hot. 

“What did you have in mind?”

“What do you think?” giving her a smirk.

Jennie knows what you’re thinking; it’s not like she hasn’t thought about it herself. You come close to her and grab her small behind, causing her to yelp.

She’s being this close to her. You know that she’s small and petite, “too, like a doll.”

“What?”

Instead of replying, you pick her up, carry her to the guestroom, and toss her onto the bed. 

“Wait… what are you doing?”

“I’m going to fuck you.”

“I’m not ready yet.”

“I didn’t ask you if you were. I’m telling you what I’m going to do to you.”

Jennie is stunned by your words. The image of you has been turned 360 from ordering you around to the other way around. Deep down, she can’t help but feel small and submissive by someone so huge and powerful enough to change her life.

“Okay, I understand.”

“Since you do, then strip. I want to see what I’m going to be working with.”

Jennie gets off the bed and stands in front of you. She slowly begins to undress herself, taking off her crop top and her small shots.

Now in underwear, she shyly takes off her bra, revealing her small, cute breasts. She tries to cover them, “Don’t forget the bottom.”

You smile as she hesitates to pull down her panties and whines, “Do I really have to pull them down?”

“Do you want me to do them for you? Just letting you know that I won’t be gentle.”

“I…I’ll do it then,” as she slowly pulls them down until it drops on the floor and quickly cover her cunt. 

“Take your hands off.”

“But…”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

 Jennie removes her hands, revealing her semi-bare cunt. 

“Fuck, you have a pretty-looking pussy and a nice pair of tits. Lay down on the bed and spread that pussy for me.”

Jennie feels embarrassed but does what you told her. She lays on the bed and puts her legs up. She tries to spread her legs, but the idea of spreading them open and showing her pussy to someone for the first time is nerve-wracking. 

“Spread them more!”

She widens her legs until you see her whole cunt in view. With both her index and middle fingers, she slowly spreads her pussy lips, giving you a view of her unused cunt. “How’s this?”

“Hot. You’re making me hard.”

“Really? I’m making you hard?”

“Yeah. Want to see?”

Jennie has never seen a cock before in real life, only on the internet when she would masturbate while in the dorms. Seeing one in real life is making her both nervous and excited, “yeah. I want to see it.”

You undo the bottom and drop your buttons, leaving only your boxers and a large bulge in sight. 

Jennie can feel her heart beating faster as you pull down your boxers, which makes your cock springs out. “Wow, it’s so big. Can I touch it?”

“Of course,” you say with a grin.

Jennie, with her index finger, touches the tip of your cock and throbs, “Haha, it’s likes me.”

“How about grabbing it with your two hands?”

“Okay, but I don’t think I’ll be able to wrap my hands around it.” With her small hands, she tries to wrap her hand, almost touching her fingertips.

Turned on, you ask, “Can I take a picture?”

Jennie looks up at you and smiles, “Sure, you’re the boss, right? I have no say.”

“Glad to see you know your place.”

You grab your phone and take a shoot of Jennie handling your cock. “Try putting it in your mouth.”

“Like this?” as she uses the tip of her tongue to lick the head of your cock. “Yes, just like that.”

You record her slowly licking your length, your shaft, pulling the head in her mouth, and even her trying to take a bit of your cock in her mouth as she plays with her cunt.

“Fuck… I knew you were a slut” you say as she has your cock in her mouth. “Hmmm… I’ll be your slut, Daddy,” giving you a devilish smile. You grab her chin in between your hands and say, “We’re going to get along very well.” 

She stands and lays on the bed once more and willingly spreads her legs for you, spreading her pussy, and says, “Make sure you get a picture of this.” 

“You know how to turn on a guy, huh.”

“I just want to please you, Daddy. Plus, I want everyone to know that you’re going to be my first.” 

You can’t wait any longer; you need to fuck her now. You set the phone down, walked back, and spread her legs. She grabs your cock and presses it against her belly, and asks, “Is all of that going inside of me?”

“It’s going to go right in here and reach all the way up here,” as you trace your finger and her wet cunt all the way up to her belly button. 

“Fuck me already, Daddy. Make me a real woman,” begs Jennie.

You grab your cock and rub your shaft against her wet lower lips, spreading them and covering them in her sticky nectar. “I’m going to put it in; just relax.” She balls up her waist against her chest, “Okay.” 

Jennie nervously watches as you align your massive cock against her small entrance, waiting for you to be her first and only cock she’s ever going to taste. 

You press the tip on your cock and slowly insert yourself until you reach her thin barrier, which separates her from womanhood. You look directly into her eyes, signaling that you’re going to go all the way into it. She nods back and tries to prepare herself for what’s to come. 

You grab her small waist and, without mercy, put your weight onto her petite body and slam yourself into her fresh womb. “Fuck!!! I’m cumming; you’re too big; you’re making me cum!”

Jennie’s body spasms, and she tilts her head back as she feels her orgasm overwhelming her. 

“Haha, you just came from me putting it in? Let’s see how many times you cum.”

You don’t let her rest and put her into a mating press. She groans from not being able to ride off her orgasm, “Daddy, wait. You’re going to make me cum again. Let me rest.”

“A girl like you doesn’t deserve to rest; you’re my sex toy. I get to use you however I want,” slamming yourself inside her once again. 

Jennie cries as she feels her insides being rearranged by your cock, “Ahh, you’re messing me up inside! I won’t be able to with anyone beside you! Fuck…you’re stretching my small pussy out!”

Watching her becoming a mess is getting you more turned on. Even if it’s her first time, she’s a natural. You place your hand on her neck and firmly tighten your grip. Jennie panics when she feels your hand choking her, puts her hands around your arms, and looks at you in terror. “Shh… baby girl, calm down; I’m not going to hurt you, just something the both of us to enjoy. Trust me.”

Directly looking at you, she lets go of her hands and instead focuses on you, thrusting inside of her. “You feel so tight, Jennie; I feel like cumming already,” as you tighten the grip of your hand around her neck. 

You see Jennie trying to speak, so you loosen your grip, “Ahhh… cum… cum inside me, Daddy. I… I want to feel your cum in my tummy.”

You tighten your grip on her neck again as you fuck her roughly, only hearing the sound of both your flesh against each other. Little by little, you feel your peak approaching, a cold sensation in your back. 

“Fuck… I’m going to dump all my cum in your tight little pussy!” 

You feel all your cum shoot deep inside Jennie’s womb with your thick cum. Her eyes roll back from how tight you’re choking her as you pump a large load. Her body starts to go limp from the lack of air, so you let go of her neck and see the imprint of your hand around it. 

Immediately, Jennie gasps for air and comes back to her senses. “You’re such a good girl, Jennie. I think you’re going to be my favorite toy from now on.” 

She gives you a weak smile, grabs your hand, and places it back around her neck, “Keep fucking me, Daddy. I’m your dirty like toy.”

The two of you keep fucking all night long, every time you pump your cum in and on her body. At the end, you take a series of photos and videos of your work, Jennie’s body covered in cum and her cunt oozing out a mixture of both your juices.

—————

You wake up the next day and see Jennie under your arms. You try to get up, but she’s holding on to you. Rubbing her eyes, she turned around and said, “Good morning, Daddy.”

“Good morning, Jennie. How are you feeling?”

“Sore. I can still feel some of your cummies in my tummy. I feel my pussy gaped. I don’t think I'll be able to get married anymore, haha.”

“Good. You’re mine, anyways.”

“Jealous?”

“No. I just got like sharing my toys.” You grab her by the neck with a firm grip and say, “Don’t forget that, okay? You’re mine.”

“Yes, Daddy,” as she feels your strong hand choking her. 

You let her go and walk to the bathroom to freshen up. Jennie looks at her phone and sees text messages from her group mates asking if she visited her mom since she didn’t sleep at the apartment. 

Jennie replies to them and immediately gets an idea that makes her smile excitedly, “Daddy.”

“Yes.”

“Since I’m your sex toy, how about making the rest of us your toys?”

“You mean your groupmates?”

“Yeah, how bout it? Sounds like fun, right?”

“Doesn’t sound like a bad idea; I’ll think about it.”

[onlyhereforpazzi]

Let me be your rock 🪨 (get to because my last name is stone.. I have crippling debt..)

Warnings: NSFW contains smut (finger A!r Eating out p! Scissoring) angst mentions of running away from home.

A sort of fluffy fic :)

Enjoy :)

It started off small. Sharing little moment’s in Azzi’s room, hugs from behind, little pecks to the cheek, cuddling late at night, long welcoming hugs that were a bit more than just friendly, and hand holding everywhere they went. Azzi’s dad Tim would make jokes that Paige and Azzi were attached to the hip since birth, Paige would just laugh at that. But then they got risky with the end of the year coming soon they felt and needed to rush things, Azzi became just as clingy as Paige and they got a lot less demure with their touches and acts of effect.

 Paige laid next to Azzi in her queen size bed rubbing her stomach softly as she pecked her lips against Azzi’s every few seconds whispering sweet nothings into her ears, such as.. “Such a pretty girl Az..” “Look at my princess..” “Gonna dream of you every night ma..” Until Azzi finally put a stop to it by pinning Paige down with a slick move. “Whoa ma-” A startled Paige said looking up at the younger girl, adjusting her hands so one was on her ass the other on her hip smirking in that cheesy way she knew Azzi loved.

“Oh you are such a dumbass..” Azzi mumbled softly, moving a hand to the blonde’s cheek leaning down and pecking her lips in such an easy motion like banking a layup or a floater to the two hoopers. “My dumbass though..” The younger girl smiles and pecks her lips again. 

The blonde looks up at the younger girl. “Love being your dumbass,” She paused for a moment before adding “as long as I get to see that ass shake ma.” Paige was then met with a playful smack from her best friend on her arm. “What Az it is true!” Paige laughed and rolled over so the younger girl was under her.

“Yeah but is it so inappropriate!” Azzi said as if half of the stuff they have done in this very bed (or in the shower) was any better. Luckily Azzi used her brains and covered her mouth with her hand. “Don’t you even think about it Bueckers..”

“You love me Az, I know it..” The blonde smiled and pecked the younger girl's lips before whispering playfully in a seductive voice. “But you know maybe later I can show you inappropriate things.” She ran her finger down to the younger girl's shorts with a smirk, before doing her classic ‘rizz-hands’ grinning ear to ear. “Dork..” Azzi mumbled pecking her lips again, a knock at the door prevented Paige from deepening the kiss. Paige groans and rolls off Azzi so she can get up. Azzi opens the door to find Tim, the man was tall standing at 6 '7 and was a stocky man developing a bit of a dad bod from being off the court for so long, most guys didn’t ask Azzi out because her dad was so scary. Deep down he is like a big old teddy bear. “Hey girls, dinner is ready! Azzi you need to clean up your room after dinner hun.” Azzi nodded and Paige smiled before standing up and following Azzi downstairs to the dining area. The Fudd house was well kept and generally clean, except for the couch which was covered in Azzi’s two younger brothers controllers and such. Paige sat next to Azzi and placed her hand on her thing, rubbing gently as they waited for the dinner to be set in front of them. “So how was your day y’all?” Azzi’s mother Katie asked, her voice had a twang to it that made her seem more stern then she was. She looked at her two younger sons who instantly stopped messing around with each other. “Jose, remember to put away your clothes. I have asked you three times this week alone.”

Paige had grown used to this, it was nice having siblings in the house all the time and two loving parents even if they weren’t actually hers. Paige was only three when Bob and Amy got a divorce, it took her till she was seven to figure out why. She used to blame herself. It was a bad habit she developed, someone was to get hurt in court. She must have not tried enough to prevent that. It was horrible, when she found out Azzi tore her Azzi she blamed herself for not being there and not kissing her all better, not holding her in person (all they did was Facetime), not having Azzi squeeze her thighs around Paige’s head as she.. When Bob and his current wife had Drew, Paige was so happy to have a younger sibling she could treat like a little baby. Often Azzi was sent photos of Paige and Drew, in return Paige would get silly pictures of Azzi or her brothers, which she always kept in case she needed to make a quick roast on them. “My day was good Katie thank you for asking..” Paige smiled looking at the women who helped bring life to this goddess next to her currently. She held Azzi’s hand under the table while they ate and enjoyed the food. Soon they finished eating and Paige took the honor of taking Azzi’s plate to the kitchen and washing it well. Azzi watched Paige do so, before trailing behind her holding her mother’s and father’s plate. “Oh hello there madam Fudd..” Paige grinned at her cheesy words, taking the plates and pecking the younger girl's cheek. “I must say madam Fudd you look absolutely delicious in those jeans.” The blonde's eyes drifted down to her ass in those jeans smirking. 

“My eyes are up here Bueckers..” The younger girl hopped onto the counter looking at her best friend washing the dishes before walking over placing her hands on her thighs rubbing softly looking up at her. “Hm?” The younger girl hummed in a questioning tone looking at the older girl. “Nothing, just admiring this beautiful girl in front of me..” Paige grinned and pecked her lips softly against the younger girl who returned the kiss before pulling away. “Mmm, love those kisses..” The blonde began to kiss the curly haired girl's cheeks and jawline. “So perfect..” Eventually Azzi pushed Paige off of her and they went back up to Azzi’s room. Paige began to get ready for bed which included taking off her clothes. Azzi had seen Paige naked a few times but that didn’t matter. Paige undresses quickly before helping Azzi undress. It was difficult for the younger girl to deal with her injury. “Thank you P..” The blonde nodded and kissed the younger girl in a ‘your welcome’ fashion. The older girl helped Azzi get dressed until her body was dressed in short shorts and an oversized shirt, Paige got dressed in some flannel Pj pants and an oversized shirt that read ‘Hopkins basketball’.

Paige laid down next to Azzi in her bed rubbing her back gently, her touch soft against her even softer skin. “There you go Az..” Paige mumbled quietly, “Love you so much.. Gonna be here forever for you..” Azzi smiled before rolling over and kissing Paige, kissing her until her lips were swollen and she needed to catch her breath. The blonde moved down and kissed her neck softly. “Love this girl..” Paige mumbled softly kissing down her neck. Paige backed off studying her neck, looking at the slight mark on the neck of the girl. “Look at that baby..” Azzi rolled her eyes, pinning Paige to the bed smiling as they cuddled and tickled each other, acting like the teens that they were thrown into adulthood at 17 and 18 due to picking the career of basketball called the next greats hold back due to the injuries. Giving them a wider view of the world, being thrown into the world of live television during the USA basketball olympics or even just being told you are the greatest in the country added pressure, and pressure, and even more you guessed it pressure until they couldn’t take it. They were lucky to have each other to be each other's crunches, that supported their legs that held them back. “Paige?” Azzi mumbled and Paige hummed softly in reply. “What college did you choose?” “Oh um.. I have chosen Uconn, Geno seems like a great coach. He has coached the greats like Sue Bird, Taurasi, Stewie..” Paige smiled at Azzi before continuing. “Soon to be great Paige Madison Bueckers..” Azzi punched her arm softly, rolling her eyes. “Yeah.. Azzi isn't that far away from Virginia or Minnesota, I mean it is quite a bit away from Washington and like Montana but that doesn’t matter really. It isn’t like I will get drafted and go to the Storms or Wings..” “Yeah I know I just..” Azzi began but didn’t finish looking up at Paige whose blue eyes had an understanding look. “I just am scared P.. what if I don’t get drafted if my injury holds me back. I have my good grades but basketball.. It is my life P..” “Hey hey no you will get drafted in the future and I will be right there watching you cheering you on.” Paige held the younger girl's face in her hands. “We can be roommates in college, we could share a bed and have some fun every few nights.” Paige raised her eyebrows and pecked Azzi’s nose softly. “Azzi nothing is holding you back, you are the greatest player of your class. Prove it to the world, and you know maybe I will take that stupid fucking elderberry stuff again just for you.” 

Azzi laughed at the last thing Paige said before leaning in and kissing her softly. “Mmm okay but you can’t run out of the house..” Paige kissed her back gently smiling as she rubbed the hand of the younger girl. Paige pulled away gently. “No promises on that..” She leaned back and kissed her again. “Do you know when your parents are going to your brother's little thing?” Azzi shook her head before grabbing her phone to check her calendar. Paige kissed her neck gently as she did so, wanting the younger girl to feel loved. “His thing is in an hour and he wants to be there like 30 minutes early so probably in 10 minutes they will leave..” Azzi said, stroking the blonde hair of the older girl. The blonde groaned complaining that it was too long of a wait and Azzi should just let her have some fun right now. “Paige you can wait ten minutes..” Azzi smiled at the older girl, kissing her lips softly.

 “Ugh you are so mean to me..” Paige mumbled kissing the younger girl back acting as if they didn’t go four months before even having the conversation. “I love you Azzi but man you bully me..” the blonde joked and teased the younger girl.

Azzi pulled out her phone and scrolled through it while Paige clung to her, once they heard the garage open Paige grinned ear to ear. “Oh man are you excited babe?” Azzi asked, looking up at her Paige who nodded eagerly kissing the face of her best friend with eagerness. 

“Look at this face ma..” Paige mumbled the roar of the engine in the background gave Paige a signal it would be okay to take Azzi’s shirt off of her tossing it somewhere between the bed and dresser not really caring where it landed. “These motherfuckin’ abs ma..” She leaned down and kissed her stomach softly rubbing it gently between kisses. Paige kept complimenting her body, kissing down and down until she reached her shorts. “May I?” Azzi nodded and Paige pulled her shorts down to reveal the pretty underwear she watched Azzi put on. “Paige, stop teasing..” Azzi mumbled and watched as Paige pulled down her underwear letting out a moan at the sight of the younger girl's pussy. Her eyes tracing around the folds, to the clit, and then back again in a constant cycle she looked up at Azzi and smirked. 

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy ma.. Wet for me, yeah?” She kissed right above it as her thumb found her clit and rubbed slow circles around it. Her head lowered as she kissed her clit softly, spitting a bit she ran her middle finger up and down her soaking folds waiting for Azzi to give some sign of not being able to take the teasing anymore. She got what she wanted soon after when the younger girl's thigh twitched rubbing against her hand. “Want more?” Azzi nodded eagerly and Paige slipped her finger in teasing her with her slow sliding in and out. “Like that?” She smirked and added a second finger speeding up a bit as she began to stretch her out. “P.. Paige.. Fuck..” Azzi moaned her eyes on Paige struggling to hold in her moans against her bottom lip which she bit. “Paige fuck your fingers.. Need more..” “Oh yeah ma? Well then I will give you more..” She lowered her head and sucked her clit while Azzi kept moaning her hands gripping her sheets tightly scrunching the normally perfect surface. Paige's fingers curling into Azzi with a steady rhythm.. “Yeah Paige.. Paige Paige.. Fuck I am close..” Paige grinned and leaned up pecking her lips before spitting on her still moving fingers. “Damn damn.. Fuck P..” “Yeah baby let it go come on cum for me..” Azzi’s hips bucked up to meet Paige's fingers until they faltered before crashing right back down. Paige let her ride her high out until she laid there breathing heavily.. Paige pulled her fingers out and sucked on them softly. “It tastes so good ma..”

“Yeah I bet..” Azzi mumbled as she looked at Paige, “Alright my turn..” Azzi laid back against the bed while Paige stripped down to nothing but her sports bra. Paige gripped the head board as she lined herself up. “There you go..” Azzi mumbled gripping her thighs as Paige lowered herself on Azzi’s face with a moan, her folds opening around the younger girl's tongue. “Damn Az..” She slowly rose up and back down a few times before sliding against the younger girl's face as she lapped up her mess. She began to imagine what Azzi’s mother's reaction would be if she walked in and saw her daughter’s best friend sitting on her face. She was about to laugh when she was interrupted by a moan coming from herself. “Tastes so good P..” Azzi mumbled as her chin became covered with Paige’s slick and her own drool.. “Could eat this pussy every day…” Paige groaned as she rode her face fast, craving that high. She moaned again followed by some swearing as Azzi helped her reach her goal. Paige’s actions slowed and followed every few seconds till she cummed on the younger girl’s tongue. “Damn..” Paige lifted her hips and sat next to Azzi smiling at her. “So what position next hmm?” Paige rubbed Azzi’s thigh as Azzi cleaned up her face, with the back of her wrist. “Uh we could do some scissor action you know..” Azzi suggested smiling at Paige who nodded and took a deep breath before beginning to align their weak pussies, Paige slowly lowered herself to the point where they met. The two girls moaned at the touch and grinned against each other and Paige’s eyes rolled back in overstimulation of her clit touching Azzi’s folds. “Wow.. wow Azzi..” “AZZI (enter Azzi’s middle name) FUDD!” A voice called out, opening the door to find them in such a position. Paige, not knowing what to do, froze, luckily Azzi had some brains and pulled a blanket over them. Azzi’s mother stood in the door, her face must have been as red as her hair. “YOU TWO GET DRESSED AND BE DOWNSTAIRS IN 5 MINUTES..” Katie was furious this was not something Paige wanted to happen. Paige quickly got up once the door closed, pecking Azzi’s forehead before getting dressed helping Azzi get dressed. “Fuck Azzi what are we going to do.. What if they kick me out.. I can’t go back to my dad’s yet..” Paige stared at the younger girl's brown eyes until they answered her. “They won’t Paige I promise and if they do we will move out together.. I have enough money to buy a hotel or something. Come on, we can do this..” Azzi answered as she pulled her shirt over her head standing slowly using Paige as her support, her rock. Paige was her rock always was. “Come on, let's go..” Paige mumbled as they made their way down the stairs to the living room, the caring and gentle Mr. Fudd at a stern expression as he looked at the two girls, but he wasn’t the one they were worried about. They watched as Katie reentered the living room, her expression sterned as she pointed to the couch telling them to sit. “Mrs. Fudd I can explain..” Paige began but was shut down when Katie raised her hand up.  “So Azzi why when I come home from your brother's event do I find you and the girl you swore to me was just a friend in bed together doing certain acts?” Katie asked, staring them down like a hawk. “Explain to me why I found you in such a position hmm..” “Mom, I really like Paige..” Azzi’s voice was timid so Paige held her hand rubbing the back of it with her thumb. “I have liked her since we met. She is the best thing to happen to me, please don’t take her away…” Tim spoke up, “How long has this been going on?” His voice was rough like gravel in a driveway. He stared at the two girls, his eyes flicking to each as he rubbed his forehead softly.

“About 8 months but we only started doing that like a month ago..” Paige responded quickly, still holding onto Azzi’s hand.

“Unbelievable..” Katie mumbled before Tim put his hand on her shoulder. He seemed like he wanted to reason with the girls. “Listen I get you guys are teens and all but that isn’t an excuse really.. Now here is the deal: no more sex under my roof got it? But you two can be all couple like..” Tim smiled at the two girls before his expression became serious. “Now Bueckers if I find out you broke my little girl's heart.. I will not hesitate to break you..” The large man grinned and smiled at the girls once more.

Katie jumped in, “I think you two can do a bit of cleaning to make up for this..” She looked between the girls who nodded, gratefully that they at least still had each other. Still had their rocks.

[brokenmenswhore]

can I request a jace x reader? rhanerya sends her kids away (s3e3) and baela is off worried about king’s landing so he’s lonely and misses his family and it’s just super pure and fluffy?

if all else burns | jacaerys velaryon

pairing: jacearys valeryon x reader

warnings: s2e3 spoilers!

a/n: sometimes i feel like i’m fighting for my life with the spelling of some of these names that have either ‘ae’ or ‘ea’ in the middle. a lil short i hope that’s ok!

────── ☾ ──────

Jacearys did everything he could to hold his head up high at all times, but each day weighed him down more and more. He still grieved his little brother, his betrothed was off on her dragon keeping an eye on King’s Landing, and now his mother was sending the last of his younger siblings away for their safety.

He was proud to stick around, happy he was needed, but being professional at all times was getting difficult.

He hugged his younger brothers, squeezing them one last time before they were sent off with Rhaena.

He attended his mother’s council meetings, standing tall and keeping his mouth shut. He held his head up high and supported his mother.

You and Jace had been friends since childhood, always leaning on one another when things got hard. Your family had sworn allegiance to Aegon II, so you had fled to Dragonstone in support of Rhaenyra and her family. You couldn’t imagine what Jace was going through, his entire family at war, and no matter what he did, he just kept having to say goodbye to someone.

“Jace?” you whispered, slowly pushing open the door to the room he was sat in, elbows on his knees as he watched the fireplace.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, “everything ok?”

You walked closer to him, taking the seat next to him. “I actually came to ask you the same thing.”

You watched Jace, the fire contouring his face differently each time the flames moved. “I miss Luke,” he spoke.

You reached out a hand, placing it atop one of his. “I know.”

You both sat in silence for a moment, watching the fire dance before he finally spoke again. “Everyone keeps leaving. I fear it’ll only get harder with the war.”

You stood at this, moving in front of him and kneeling before him. His eyes met yours in a moment of vulnerability.

“I won’t leave, Jace. I’m right here.”

He smiled at you, pressing his forehead against yours and taking a deep breath. You continued, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m not sure what I would do without you.”

You smiled warmly, “good thing for you that you’ll never have to find out.”

You leaned up and hugged him, allowing him to take a deep, relaxing breath while his chin rested on your shoulder.

“I don’t want to fight this war,” he admitted, “I just want it all to stop. If the Greens would just give my mother her throne, we could move on from all of this- this hatred.”

You pulled out of the hug, placing your hands on either side of Jace’s face.

“I wish for the same,” you replied, “but until then, you are strong, and you will persist.”

“I’m so tired of being strong.” His voice broke, tears threatening to spill.

“So be weak with me.”

Jace smiled as you pulled him into another hug, allowing him to cry for a bit in your arms, using your presence as an outlet for the emotions he never let out. You knelt there for several minutes, not daring to move, just allowing him to get it all out.

When his breathing calmed down, he pulled back a bit and pressed his forehead to yours again.

“I don’t know what to do,” he began to ramble, “I don’t know how to keep everyone safe. I’m supposed to lean on Baela, but she’s been so occupied surveying King’s Landing that she’s rarely ever here. My mother grieved, and now needs to be pragmatic, rather than let her grief consume her, but how do you not let this grief consume you? Until my grandsire died, everything was so simple. The only squabbles were between Luke and Aemond. I don’t know how everything got so complicated. I miss the peace.”

You felt bad for him. You empathized with him; he was in such a complicated position, and you could tell he felt like his family was shrinking with the war, making his responsibilities even more important. His mask of strength was fading. You were the only outlet he had.

“You mean everything to me, Jace,” you spoke, “if all else fails, if all else burns, we’ll always have one another.”

Jace smiled. “If all else burns, we’ll always have one another.”

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

Said, I was sorry

Summary: You’re pissed at Dean, and Sam and Bobby find it amusing.

Word count: 0.9k

A/n: Once more not my favorite, but still hope you guys enjoy :)

༺═────────────═༻

The silence you gave off aggravated Dean to a higher level. And he didn’t know how to fix it. He’d apologized, tried to cheer you up with a slice of pie, he even listened to both Sam and Bobby on how he could make it up to you. 

But to no avail, you barely spoke to the poor man. 

He knew it was his fault, anyone could have told him that. In fact you reminded him plenty of times on the ride back from the case. God, that ride back to Bobby’s was dreadful, you made Sam sit in the backseat and wouldn’t even let Dean turn his music up all the way either. 

But, he would take that as punishment, if that would mean you would speak to him again. 

“So,” Bobby started, voice low as he watched you leave the small library of his. “What did you do to her?”

Sam bit back a laugh, hand coming up to his his smile from his brother. “Shut up.” Dean told him, hands coming up to rub his face. The long quiet drive back having drained his battery. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Bobby leaned against the desk, arms crossed over the other as he stared at the younger man. “What do you mean, ‘I don’t want to talk about it’? She’s barley looked or even spoken to you since you’ve been here. Now, what the hell did you do?”

“I- I messed up on the hunt, ok.” He finally told him, head hanging low for a second before meeting the man’s eyes again. “We were hunting the shapeshifter, and we were lead to an old drinking well out at a farm.”

Dean let out a deep sigh before continuing, “And you know Sam and I were to big and too heavy to go down the well, so Y/n had to do it.”

“So you, what? Forced her down the well, threw her down?” 

“No.” Dean muttered, slowly pacing the small library. “No, we tied a rope around her and we hoisted her up and over into the well, and-“

“We?” Sam asked, a playful smile dancing across his lips. “I think I went back to the farm house and tried to find the shapeshifter.”

“Ok, then, I hoisted her up and into the well.” He corrected, shooting an annoyed look at his brother. “And it was going great, I had a firm grip on the rope, she didn’t slip. But…”

Bobby quirked an eyebrow, “But?”

“But, we found the rope in an old shed, and as I was lowering her down the well, I saw- I felt a uh.” Dean lowered his voice, embarrassment seeping its way into his body. “A spider.”

“A what?”

“A spider.” Dean told him a bit louder. 

Bobby looked between both Dean and his brother, taking in the shame one had and the other trying to hold in his laughter. “Dean, what did you do?”

“I let go of the rope, by accident.”

A chuckle forced its way past his lips, a hand coming up to hide his ever growing smile. “So, what your telling me is that you dropped Y/n down a water well, because you saw a spider?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Dean tried to defend himself, his tone rising as both Sam and Bobby erupted into fits of laughter. “It crawled up my hands, got under my shirt. It was gonna bite me.”

“She had to ride the whole way here in soggy clothes, because we didn’t bring any dry clothes with us.” Sam told Bobby, 

Bobby laughed a bit more at the younger man actions, a hand coming up to wipe away at his eyes. “Look kid, just be nice to her, she’ll have to forgive you sooner or later.” He told Dean, keeping his voice low as he heard you make your way back to them. 

You came back with three beers in hand, passing two off to both Sam and Bobby before opening your own. Dean held out his hand expecting you to place a glass bottle in it for him, but just watched as you sit behind the desk taking slow deliberate sips of your drink. 

“I would like a beer.” Dean told you, hand coming back down to rest by his side. 

“Ran out.” You told him bluntly, flicking through a book that sat on top the desk. 

Dean pulled his lips into a thin line, dodging both Sam and Bobby’s eyes. “What do we have?” He asked, needing something to quench his thirst. 

You looked up at the older man, pretending to ponder the question. “We have water.”

“Then can I have water?” A cough came from his side, glancing over he caught Bobby and Sam giving him a look. “Please?”

A sigh left your lips before you got up once more, disappearing past the doorway and into the kitchen. “See,” Bobby told him, taking a quick sip of his beer. “Just be a little nice and she’ll forgive you in no time.”

You retured quickly, placing a cup onto the bookshelf next to Dean. Reaching over he picked up the cup, twisting it in front of him, a small scowl resting on his face as he faced you. “This is ice, Y/n.”

“Yep.” You told him, returning to your seat. 

“I asked for water.”

“You can wait.”

Dean let out a sigh, placing the cup back onto the bookshelf, “I can wait.”

[rosemariiaa]

~A Winter’s Promise~

˖˙ ᰋ ── pairing: Paige x Azzi

˖˙ ᰋ ── rosie’s note: hi hii, this is somewhat an apology fic. i wanna drop some fics all december but idkkk. i love pazzi as moms and i love little evie, and that airport pic made me smile! happy reading lovelies 💌

˖˙ ᰋ ── themes: fluff, teasing

enjoy!!!

The first pang of frustration hit Paige as the flight attendant’s voice echoed over the intercom. “Ladies and gentlemen, due to weather conditions, Flight 386 to Minneapolis is delayed indefinitely. Please stay tuned for further updates.”

Paige groaned, rubbing her hand down her face as she leaned back in the stiff airport chair. She’d been stuck in the terminal for hours, itching to get home for Christmas. This wasn’t just any Christmas; it was her first chance in weeks to see Azzi and Evie. Azzi had been holding down the fort with their daughter while Paige played overseas, and though video calls and texts helped, it wasn’t the same.

Her phone buzzed on her lap.

flight still delayed?

Paige let out a sigh, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. What could she say? She wasn’t even sure she’d make it home tonight.

yeah, they’re saying the storms getting worse

might not be able to fly out til tmr :(

i’m sorry baby, it’s okay we’ll make it work just get here when you can

i’ll figure it out dw, give eve a kiss for me

She ran a hand down her face, feeling the weight of disappointment settle in her chest. Azzi had told her to take her time, but the thought of missing Christmas Eve with her wife and daughter made her stomach churn. Evie had been counting down the days until she was home, and Paige had promised her she’d be there.

“Not happening,” Paige muttered to herself, standing abruptly and grabbing her duffel bag.

She approached the airline counter, waiting impatiently behind a handful of equally frustrated travelers. When it was finally her turn, the agent didn’t even look up as they spoke.

“Sorry, ma’am, all flights are grounded for the night.”

Paige gritted her teeth, leaning against the counter. “There’s gotta be something you can do. Another flight, a private plane, a damn sled—I don’t care. I just need to get home tonight.”

The agent glanced up, unimpressed. “There’s nothing I can do. The FAA has grounded all flights in this weather. I understand your frustration, but—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Paige interrupted, stepping back and glancing down the line of counters. Her eyes landed on another agent at the far end—a younger one who looked far less jaded by the onslaught of holiday travelers.

Paige approached them with a calm smile, adjusting her duffel bag on her shoulder. “Hey, uh, I’m hoping you can help me out. My flight got delayed, and I really need to get home tonight. My family’s waiting for me.”

The agent blinked up at her, their eyes widening slightly. “Wait… are you Paige Bueckers?”

Paige grinned, leaning on the counter. “Guilty.”

The agent flushed, glancing around nervously. “Wow, uh, okay. Well, all the commercial flights are grounded…”

“But?” Paige prompted, her grin widening.

“But there’s a cargo plane heading out in a couple of hours. It’s not exactly meant for passengers, but…”

“I’ll take it,” Paige said immediately.

The agent hesitated. “Are you sure? It’s not gonna be comfortable—”

“I don’t care,” Paige cut them off. “As long as it gets me home.”

—————

The cargo plane was every bit as uncomfortable as the agent had warned. Paige sat bundled in her coat, her duffel bag tucked under her feet, as the freezing air seeped through the metal walls. It didn’t matter, though. Every bump and jolt of the flight was a reminder that she was getting closer to Azzi and Evie.

When they finally touched down, Paige didn’t even wait for the engines to stop before grabbing her bag and sprinting off the plane. She flagged down a cab, her heart racing with anticipation as they drove through the snowy streets.

By the time Paige’s cab pulled up outside the house, it was nearly midnight. Snow clung to her jacket and hair as she stepped out, her duffel bag slung over one shoulder and her backpack on the other. The driveway was packed with cars, no doubt belonging to Azzi’s parents, her brothers Jose and Jon, and Paige’s little brother Drew.

She grinned, imagining the chaos waiting inside. This was family, the kind of loud, vibrant love she and Azzi thrived in.

—————

Inside the cozy home, the scene was the picture of holiday warmth. The smell of freshly baked cookies wafted from the kitchen, where Azzi’s mom was icing a batch of gingerbread men. Her dad was leaning against the counter, chatting with Drew and keeping a watchful eye on the boys—Jon and Jose—who were loudly arguing over a basketball game.

In the living room, Azzi was curled up on the couch with Evie tucked under her arm. The little girl’s head rested on her mom’s chest, her wide eyes glued to the Christmas movie playing on the TV.

Evie suddenly looked up, her pouty expression catching Azzi’s attention. “When’s Mommy coming home?” she whined.

Azzi sighed softly, brushing her fingers through Evie’s curls. “She’s trying, baby. The snow’s making it hard for her plane to fly.”

“But I want her here now,” Evie huffed, crossing her little arms over her chest.

Before Azzi could respond, the front door burst open with a gust of cold air. Everyone turned toward the entrance, startled. Paige stood there, her hair and jacket covered in snow, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and her backpack in hand. “Hi Family!” Paige grinned.

“Mommy!” Evie squealed, scrambling off the couch and sprinting across the room. She threw herself into Paige’s arms, nearly knocking her off balance.

“Hey, munchkin,” Paige said, her grin wide as she hugged Evie tightly. “I missed you.”

“You’re home!” Evie cheered, clinging to her neck.

Azzi stared from the couch, her jaw dropping slightly. “Paige?”

Paige’s blue eyes found hers, her smile softening. “Where my hug at?” she teased.

Azzi rolled her eyes, finally getting up and crossing the room. She wrapped her arms around Paige’s neck, standing on her toes to kiss her softly. “I thought your flight got delayed,” she murmured against her lips.

“It was,” Paige said, her hands settling on Azzi’s waist. “But I pulled some string y’know.”

“You pulled some strings?”, Azzi echoed, but her lips were already curving into a smile.

Paige smirked, squeezing her waist. “What can I say? I had to get home to my girls.”

“Paigey!” Drew’s voice cut through the moment, followed by the sound of footsteps thundering down the stairs. Jose and Jon were right behind him, and before Paige knew it, she was being pulled into a round of hugs and handshakes.

“Man, you’ve been gone forever,” Jose said, clapping her on the back.

“You bring us anything?” Jon added with a grin.

Drew smirked, holding his hand out. “I know you got that NIL money, P. What’s up?”

Paige laughed, shaking her head as she pointed toward Azzi. “Y’all act like Az ain’t got brand deals, too. She’s the one you should be harassing.”

Azzi crossed her arms, giving them a mock glare. “Don’t even think about it. I already bought you all a crap load of gifts,” she warned, though her smile betrayed her amusement.

—————

Hours later, after the house had finally quieted and everyone was asleep, Paige and Azzi lay tangled together in Azzi’s childhood bed. The moonlight painted soft shadows across the room, and Paige couldn’t stop herself from running her hands up and down Azzi’s sides, savoring the warmth of her skin beneath her sweatshirt.

Azzi sighed contentedly, her head resting on Paige’s chest. “You’ve gotta be exhausted,” she murmured, tracing absent patterns on Paige’s stomach with her fingers.

“I am,” Paige admitted, her voice low, “but I missed you too much to care.” She tilted her head down, brushing her lips against Azzi’s temple. “Layin’ here with you? This is all I wanted for Christmas.”

Azzi’s lips twitched into a soft smile. “Very smooth, Bueckers,” she teased, but there was no missing the way her body melted further into Paige’s.

Paige tightened her hold on her waist, her fingers dipping just under the hem of Azzi’s sweatshirt. “Smooth? Nah, I’m just honest.”

Azzi laughed quietly, a blush creeping up her neck. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” Paige countered, her voice taking on a playful lilt.

Azzi tilted her head up to meet Paige’s eyes, her gaze softer now. “I do,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Paige smiled, brushing her nose against Azzi’s before capturing her lips in a slow, lingering kiss. The kiss deepened quickly, Azzi’s hand sliding up to cup Paige’s cheek while Paige’s fingers splayed against her hip, pulling her closer.

Azzi broke the kiss with a gasp, her forehead resting against Paige’s as she tried to catch her breath. “Everyone’s right downstairs,” she reminded her, though her tone lacked conviction.

“So?” Paige murmured, nipping lightly at her bottom lip. “They’re asleep. You really think anyone’s gonna hear us?”

Azzi tried to keep her composure, but Paige’s hand had slipped under her sweatshirt completely, her palm pressing against bare skin. “You’re terrible,” Azzi whispered, her voice unsteady.

“Terribly in love with you,” Paige shot back, earning an eye roll that turned into a quiet laugh.

Before either of them could take things further, a faint, sleepy voice called out from the hallway. “Mommy? Mama?”

Azzi groaned, flopping onto her back as Paige chuckled under her breath. “You jinxed it,” Azzi muttered.

“Better me than her walking in on us,” Paige teased, sliding out of bed and grabbing her sweatshirt from the floor.

She opened the door to find Evie standing there in her fuzzy Christmas pajamas, clutching her favorite stuffed animal. Her hair was tousled, and her eyes were half-closed.

“What’s wrong, munchkin?” Paige asked gently, crouching down to her level.

“I had a bad dream,” Evie mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

“Come here,” Paige said, scooping her up effortlessly. She carried her back to the bed, where Azzi was already holding the blankets open for her.

Evie settled between them, her tiny body curling against Paige’s side as Azzi tucked the covers around her.

“Can I stay here?” Evie asked, her voice small.

“Of course, baby,” Azzi said, kissing the top of her head.

Paige pressed a kiss to her cheek as well, her heart swelling as Evie yawned and nuzzled closer. She glanced over at Azzi, who gave her a knowing smile.

“Merry Christmas, mama,” Paige whispered, her hand reaching over to lace fingers with Azzi’s.

Azzi smiled, her thumb brushing against Paige’s knuckles. “Merry Christmas, Mommy.”

They lay there in peaceful silence, their daughter’s soft breaths filling the room. Paige thought about all the miles she’d traveled, the delays, the chaos—and how every moment of it was worth it to be right here, wrapped up in the love of her family.

˖˙ ᰋ ── taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @juspeaks @sierrale8ne @imaginespazzi @makethemhoesmad @kmoneymartini @pazzilover101 @ashortyluvsports @lupinqs @melpthatsme

[mayrose713]

Beautifully Cruel World-Chapter 14

Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI

Warnings in the Series Masterlist as well as any other information needed

I'm still writing I promise. My great grandma is okay so I'm not going back to where I grew up for now. I am having to work everyday until Christmas at the moment but managed to finish this chapter today after I had taken some time getting my thoughts for another story out. Sometimes starting on another fic that I have in my head helps me with my writers block for my original fics so look forward to a new one eventually after I have finished this.

Enjoy this long waited chapter

Chapter 14

“Alright baby girl.” Chan holds Y/n’s hand as they walk down the street of shops. “Let’s get you some swimsuits.”

Seungmin grabs the door of one of the shops and holds it open for the two as they walk in. The omega looks around seeing it’s specifically a swimsuit shop and immediately becomes a bit overwhelmed at all the options. Of course most of them are bikinis which she frowns at being unsure about showing off so much skin. 

“You okay?” Seungmin grabs her other hand, having smelled her scent sour a little.

“Yeah.” She whispers with a small nod still looking around her.

“Baby.” Seungmin frowns and steps directly in front of her so she would look at him. “You get whatever suits you are comfortable with.”

“It is why we’re the ones taking you.” Chan squeezes her hand. “We’re the two that won't try and convince you to get a bikini if you don’t wanna.”

“Thank you.” She whispers again smiling at both of them before letting go of their hands to start looking around the store.

She starts off looking at some of the one pieces as well as tankinis and grabs a few of them to try on. She also grabs a few pairs of some female swim trunks. 

“I’m gonna try these on.” Y/n walks away from them to the dressing room and they follow to sit in the waiting area outside of the rooms.

Chan sighs as they sit down in the chairs. “She doesn’t like this.”

“Shopping in general or for swimsuits?” Seungmin asks.

“I think for swimsuits.” The alpha looks at his younger mate. “Felix said she doesn’t really know how to swim meaning she probably didn’t go to the beach or pool much.”

“I can understand if she’s uncomfortable showing so much skin around us.” Seungmin thinks about it but shakes his head. “But Hyunjin said she went skinny dipping with Lix last night.”

Chan looks at the beta a bit shocked but then thinks about it for a second. “It makes sense actually.”

“How?” Seungmin furrows his brows. 

“Lixie is the most omega-like beta any of us has ever met.” Chan sighs. “She’s the most comfortable with him because of it, has been since the moment we met her. It was him she asked to sit in the bathroom with her during her bath after her dry heat. I honestly think if our pack didn’t have any alphas she would have wanted him to claim her first.”

“Well he was the first of the rest of us to do so.” Seungmin gives a small smile and Chan looks shocked again as he didn’t know about this. “Lix and I shared a room last night. I noticed the new bite mark on his neck. And I confirmed it when I saw Y/n this morning.”

“I’m just glad they have each other.” The alpha sits back in the chair. “I don’t know if you had noticed but Lixie hadn’t seem quite like himself before we found Y/n”

“I did.” Seungmin mumbles. “I think we all noticed.” He glances back towards the dressing rooms to see if there's any sign of the omega coming back out again and sighs when there isn’t. “He’s really perked up with her around. Jisung too.”

“All of you have.” Chan looks at him lovingly and reaches over, placing a hand on his thigh. “I know you and Hyunjin were against her at first but the moment her dry heat kicked in you stepped up more than I ever would have thought. I haven’t seen you like that with anyone other than Lixie and Ji.”

Before the beta could say anything else Y/n walks out of one of the rooms, placing most of the swimsuits on the rack of put backs but holds a few as she joins them. “I’m done.”

“Great.” Chan stands up taking the items from the girl. “I’ll take these and check them out then we can go get ice cream or something. Why don’t you two look up what's nearby.”

After Chan walks away Seungmin gently grabs her chin to look at him. “What’s wrong pup?”

“Nothing.” She tries to brush him off but he doesn’t let her.

“I’m not going to ask again, Y/n.” He gets stern. 

The omega looks down sad and he pulls her to his chest as she mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

“What's wrong Y/n?”

“A lot.” She whispers into his shoulder causing him to turn his head a bit to hear her better. “I’ve just had a feeling since this morning that somethings gonna happen. Something bad.”

“It’s probably just your anxiety, baby.” He whispers back to her, rubbing her back. “You’re in a new place, doing things that you aren’t used to so you’re on edge.”

“Maybe.” She sighs into his neck taking in his scent. 

“What else is bothering you?” Seungmin asks and he feels her huff against him for how he’s so observant. “It isn’t just today, yesterday too, after we had gotten to the house. You seemed so happy and excited at first but it changed after Min and Lixie went to the store.”

“It’s stupid.” She tries to pull away but he doesn’t let her. “Minnie.”

“Your feelings aren’t stupid.” He reassures her. “Tell me.”

Y/n sighs again. “Innie told me that everyone shared rooms while here which you all think helps the pack bonding and strengthens your relationship. But…”

“We get here and place you in your own room.” He sighs. “You feel excluded.”

She nods her head and feels him tighten his hold on her. “I get that at home I had mostly been sleeping in my room but the night before we left I slept in Minho’s bed with him and Jisung and I really enjoyed it.”

“So when Innie told you we all shared, you were looking forward to it.” He lays his head against hers. 

“Yeah.” 

“Why didn’t you ask if you could sleep with two of us?” He hates her feeling like this. “Or ask one of us to sleep in your room with you? I would have. And you know Lix would in a heartbeat.”

“I don’t know.” She grabs the back of his shirt. 

“You were scared we would deny you? Especially after putting you in your own room.” Seungmin quickly realizes and his heart breaks. “Baby, I promise you we would never.”

“I know, I’m trying to get used to that.” She pulls away to look up at him.

“You’re just so used to it that your brain isn’t letting you.” He pokes her head a little, making her give a small smile. “But we’ll fix that. Starting with me sleeping in your room tonight.”

“You don’t have to Minnie.”

“I want to.”

After checking out, Chan notices his mates embracing, causing him to smile. But he quickly realizes that something is wrong based on how Seungmin is holding Y/n and gets worried. 

“What happened?” He asks once he walks over to them and they both turn to look at their alpha as he tries to assess the situation. 

The beta looks at Y/n for a second before turning Chan. “Everything’s okay, just some anxiety.”

Chan looks at both of them for a moment and accepts that answer and rubs both of their arms. “Okay. Do you want to continue and go get something sweet or head back to the house?”

“No, we can go wherever.” The omega doesn’t want to ruin their date. “Minnie helped.”

“You sure?” He checks to make sure there wasn’t any doubt and that she’s okay. When he doesn’t see sign of any and she nods he takes her hand. “Alright, let's go find what's around that has something sweet to eat.”

“I’m sure the ice cream and pastry shop is still here from last time.” Seungmin takes his phone out of his pocket to double check. “Yup, it’s still there.”

“Then let’s go.” 

Chan leads the two along behind him, still holding the shopping bag as they walk out of the store and head towards the little dessert shop. The smell of fresh baked goods hits them the moment they walk in making Y/n eyes widen at the amount of options to choose from.

“Well we know you like chocolate since you enjoyed Felix’s brownies.” Seungmin grabbed her hand. “Do you want ice cream or do you want a pastry?”

“Or both?” The alpha chimes in.

“I think just ice cream.” She mumbles and they bring her over to the glass of all the ice cream flavors. 

The amount of flavors to choose from overwhelms her as she looks at all of it, shocked to see so many. Y/n’s been used to only chocolate or vanilla. 

“What flavor are you thinking?” Seungmin squeezes her hand. 

“Just chocolate.” 

The two males glance at each other in concern by her mood. 

Chan looks around and the little parlor is pretty much empty. 

“Why don’t you grab us a table and we’ll order.” He smiles at her and she tenses up. “It’s okay baby, there’s practically no one in here and we can see everything so you aren’t exactly alone. We won’t let anything happen.” 

She nods before letting go of their hands and goes to grab a table while they wait for the worker to finish the persons in front of them order before it’s their turn. 

“What’s going on Minnie?” Chan finally asks the beta after Y/n is out of hearing range, wrapping an arm around the younger to bring him into his side. 

Seungmin's sighs before look up at the older male. “She feels she’s being excluded being in her own room. And didn’t want to ask to sleep with any of us last night or have any of us with her because she was scared of being denied.” 

“We would never deny her like that.” 

“I know.” Seungmin reassures. “And I think deep down she does too. She's just so used to it that she still fears it.”

“Eventually she’ll no longer be afraid.”

The two ordered once it was their turn. Y/n sits at a table nearby watching the two when she notices someone walking past the shop outside. She didn’t fully get to see them but she could have sworn it was her cousin. She tries not to freak out as she had always gotten along with her cousins fairly well and just assumes that maybe he has a tournament on the island this week. 

“One chocolate ice cream.” Chan sets the cup in front of her, making her turn back to them and smile as they too sit down at the table. 

She scoops up a small bite on her spoon before licking it and her eyes widen. “Oh my god, this is so good.” 

The two males smile and give a small chuckle at her. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

“Lix has already fallen asleep between Changbin and Hyunjin in one of the beds so I don’t have to worry about him sleeping alone.” Seungmin walks into the omega’s temporary room seeing her on her phone. “I’m all yours tonight.” 

“Wanna watch a movie?” She puts her phone down and he grabs the remote off the dresser below the tv. 

“What movie were you thinking?” He joins her on the bed, putting a little bit of distance between them wanting her to move closer when she’s ready. 

“You pick.”

He gives her a bit of an evil smirk before searching for a horror movie deciding on The Conjuring and turns it on. He smiles more as she scoots closer to him and he wraps an arm around her shoulders so she can rest her head on his chest and protect her when she gets scared. 

He’s shocked when halfway through the movie instead of jumping at the jump scares or hiding farther into his chest during some of the scary parts, she’s laughing or just relaxed against him. 

“Are you not scared?” Seungmin looks down at her and she gazes up at him shaking her head. 

“No, not really a scary movie.” He gaps at her, making her laugh. “I’ve seen a lot of horror movies, Minnie, this doesn’t scare me.” 

“Of course you wouldn’t be scared of horror movies.” The beta laughs pulling her closer to him. “Ruining my plans of trying to have you cuddle up to me scared.”

“I’m still cuddled up to you.” She rests her chin on his chest to look up at him. “I’m just not scared.”

Seungmin gazes down at his omega for a moment before leaning down, kissing her forehead then they both turn back to the movie. Once the credits roll he realizes that Y/n has fallen asleep and can’t help but to laugh that she’s even able to fall asleep during a horror movie. 

“She asleep?” Chan asks, causing Seungmin to look up at the doorway to see the two oldest alphas. 

“Yeah, fell asleep a bit ago.” 

They both turn to look at the tv to see what they were watching as it goes back to the choosing menu. 

“Did you seriously make her watch The Conjuring?” Chan gives the beta a bit of a disappointing look. 

“Hey, she wasn’t even scared, in fact she laughed during it.” 

“And she fell asleep during it?” Minho looks at Y/n with a smile. “That’s my girl.” 

“Only we would end up with an omega who isn’t scared during horror movies like Minho.” Seungmin jokes. 

“You’re just grouchy that your plan backfired on you.” Minho winks at him before walking away.

Chan shakes his head with a sigh before looking at the two once again. “Night Minnie.”

“Night hyung.” 

______________________________________________________________

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[mythicalmaven]

Gotta Be You - Charles Leclerc (THREE)

masterlist | promptlist | previous part

Here is part three! And I'm honestly so proud of this chapter! I think it turned out awesome lol <3

↳pairing: charles leclerc x female!gasly!reader ↳word count: 5K ↳warnings: awkward encounters, truth or dare (trust me lol) , jealousy, alcohol, drinking games, talking about feelings ↳side info: friends to enemies to lovers, reader is Pierre's younger sister, reader is Arthur LeClerc's childhood best friend, Charles is her former crush, Charles is a jealous ass sometimes, age gap between reader and Charles (5 years) ↳summary: In which you go on a shared holiday with both your and your brother's friend group, forced to be confronted with your former teenage crush Charles LeClerc yet again. The only problem is? You can't stand him nowadays, until you suddenly can.

*a few days later*

As you stood in the bathroom, tying your hair into a ponytail, the familiar scent of the devil himself filled the small space. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Charles had a way of entering a room without saying a word but still commanding all the air in it. He closed the distance between you two, silently taking his place by the sink next to you, reaching into the cupboard for his hair products.

You bit back a groan, focusing on your reflection. There was nothing inherently wrong with him being there—but him standing this close stirred feelings you desperately wanted to push aside. His presence was overwhelming, in that maddening, familiar way.

Your usual coping mechanism kicked in: sarcasm, sharp enough to keep him at arm’s length.

"Fixing your hair won’t fix your attitude, you know that, right?" you sassed, not entirely sure why you felt the need to say anything.

Charles scoffed, his eyes catching yours in the mirror. His gaze was intense, steady—always knowing too much. "There’s no attitude that needs fixing," he huffed, washing his hands and drying them on the towel with deliberate slowness. "Besides, some people actually put effort into how they present themselves..."

Your head snapped toward him. "Is this your not-so-subtle way of saying I look like shit?"

He rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. "Are you honestly this delusional?"

You threw your hands in the air. "Well, apparently, I am! Because that insult was completely unnecessary." You crossed your arms, leaning back against the sink with a challenging glare.

Charles shrugged, unfazed. "First of all, you started it. I didn’t do anything until you found it necessary to attack me." His voice lowered slightly, holding that aggravating calmness. "And besides… you and I both know that wasn’t an insult."

You narrowed your eyes. "How was it not an insult? You basically said I don’t put effort into how I look."

He inched closer, his movements slow and deliberate. Before you could register what was happening, his hands were on either side of you, gripping the edge of the sink. His chest hovered just inches from yours, effectively trapping you in place. His cologne wrapped around you, sending shivers down your spine.

Your breath hitched as his gaze flicked from your eyes to your lips before snapping back, locking onto yours like he was daring you to look away.

"Chérie, don’t act like you’re unaware that I think you’re hot," he whispered, voice low and rough. "You don’t need the effort."

Your heart thudded violently in your chest. For a split second, your gaze dropped to his lips—damn it. Realizing your mistake, you forced your eyes away, breathing through the sudden rush of heat.

You steeled yourself and met his gaze again. "Charles, quit playing games and get out of my face," you said through clenched teeth, though your voice wavered ever so slightly.

His eyes swept over you one last time, lingering on how you were still pressed against the sink, tension radiating between you like a live wire. His jaw clenched.

What the hell is he thinking?

Charles shifted back slightly, but something held him there, still too close for comfort. He exhaled sharply, as if wrestling with himself.

"What changed?" he asked quietly, voice strained.

Your brows furrowed. "What the hell are you talking about?"

He sighed, shoulders tense. "What did I do that made you hate me so much?" His voice softened, tinged with something dangerously close to regret. "What changed?"

Before you could answer—or even begin to process what to say—someone cleared their throat at the doorway.

Charles jumped back like he’d been burned, stumbling a step before retreating to sit on the edge of the bathtub, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. You turned your head sharply, locking eyes with Arthur, who stood leaning against the doorframe with a massive, knowing grin.

"I came to ask if you’re ready for game night," Arthur said casually, though his smirk betrayed every innocent intention.

You let out a slow, steadying breath, forcing yourself to relax. "Yeah, coming," you muttered, pushing off the sink and brushing past him.

But before you crossed the threshold, something tugged at you. You rested your hand on the doorframe, glancing back at Charles. His head lifted, eyes locking onto yours with a silent intensity.

"As for what changed?" you said quietly, voice sharper than you intended. "The fact that you have no idea says enough, Charles."

With that, you walked out, catching up to Arthur as he fell into step beside you, still grinning like an idiot.

He glanced sideways at you, suppressing a laugh. "You two really have a thing for getting caught in bathrooms together, huh?"

You rolled your eyes. "Don’t start."

Arthur chuckled. "Well, let’s just say... I did put my money on you two hooking up this holiday, but I didn’t expect you to get that intimate that fast."

"First of all, nothing happened," you snapped, face heating. "And second, it wasn’t what it looked like."

"That’s what they all say," Arthur teased. "But to me, it looked like my brother had you pinned against the sink pretty damn convincingly."

You groaned. "He did not have me pinned—"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Oh? Because you being pressed against the sink while he boxed you in with his hands definitely looked like pinning from where I was standing."

"Fine," you admitted, throwing your hands up. "It looked exactly like that, but it was not for the reason you so desperately hope it was. So shut your mouth before I call your mom and tell her what happened to her couch." you said, referring to the time you caught Arthur and his former girlfriend having sex on his mom's new couch.

Arthur’s grin dropped instantly, his hands shooting up in mock surrender. "Alright, relax, no need for threats!" he laughed, shaking his head as the two of you headed downstairs.

As you and Arthur walked into the living room, you couldn’t help but laugh at his teasing, shaking your head in mock exasperation.

"I’m still putting my money on it, though," Arthur added with a mischievous grin, his voice light but teasing.

Before you could respond, Dennis looked up from where he was lounging on the couch, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Putting your money on what?"

Arthur didn’t miss a beat. "That she’ll hook up with Charles before the end of this trip," he declared confidently, shooting you a knowing smirk.

Dennis let out a deep chuckle, sitting up straighter. "Oh, definitely. There’s no doubt in that," he agreed, his tone playfully conspiratorial.

You groaned dramatically, throwing your hands in the air. "Seriously? You’re both delusional."

Arthur shrugged. "Just calling it like we see it. The tension could be cut with a knife."

Dennis nodded sagely, as if offering expert commentary. "It’s practically inevitable."

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed a pillow from the nearest couch and tossed it at Dennis, who dodged it with practiced ease, laughing.

"You two are ridiculous," you muttered, fighting back a smile as they continued to exchange amused glances like co-conspirators.

⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆₊⁺

Tonight, the sky outside was pitch black, the faint sound of waves crashing in the distance as the group gathered in the living room. Sprawled across the plush couches, each of you with a drink in hand, the night carried an air of relaxed intimacy. The warm light of the room and the subtle buzz of alcohol created the perfect atmosphere for a game that was bound to stir up some chaos.

It was Inès who first suggested it, her eyes sparkling mischievously as she leaned forward, waving her drink for emphasis. “Okay,” she announced, her grin widening. “Let’s play ‘Never Have I Ever.’”

There was a mix of groans and laughs, but no one protested. As the alcohol worked its magic, the group quickly fell into the rhythm of the game, starting with tame questions.

“Alright,” Inès began, her tone playful. “Never have I ever made out at work.”

A beat of silence followed before all the boys raised their glasses almost simultaneously, their movements earning a round of laughter.

“I should’ve guessed,” you said, shaking your head as they took their sips.

The game continued, the questions growing more personal but still lighthearted. Dennis asked if anyone had ever called in sick to work when they weren’t actually sick, which prompted a unanimous drink from nearly everyone. Joris, with his usual antics, asked if anyone had ever gotten so drunk they couldn’t remember anything, earning another flurry of laughter as most of the group took a sip.

Then Kika piped up, her eyes sparkling as she leaned back against Pierre with a devilish grin. “Okay, my turn,” she announced, her voice dripping with amusement. “Never have I ever made out with my brother’s or sister’s best friend.”

The room broke into a chorus of gasps and giggles as everyone’s eyes darted around, scanning for raised glasses other than the obvious ones. Pierre groaned, shaking his head with a laugh as he lifted his drink and took a sip.

“You just want to get your boyfriend drunk, don't you?” Dennis teased Kika, his grin widening as he, too, raised his glass and took a sip.

Kika laughed, and looked at Pierre, who shot Dennis a playful smirk. “You did too, I see?”

Dennis chuckled, not bothering to deny it. “Yeah, can't deny that.”

Kika raised an eyebrow, her gaze flitting around the room. “Alright, anyone else want to confess?”

You stayed silent, hiding your smirk behind the rim of your glass as you watched the game unfold. The question might not have been directed at you specifically, but the implications swirling around the room were impossible to ignore, clearly an indirect question to see if you actually ever made out with Charles, which bummer to them, you didn't.

The game was already proving to be far more chaotic than you’d anticipated. The group sat sprawled out on the plush couches in the villa’s living room, drinks in hand and laughter filling the air. You’d already survived a few rounds of lighthearted questions—some borderline embarrassing—but when Dennis sat forward, his mischievous grin spelled trouble.

“Okay,” Dennis announced, his voice cutting through the chatter. “Y’all ask boring questions. Let’s spice this up.” He took a dramatic pause, letting the tension build before smirking. “Never have I ever gotten off to the thought of someone in this room… since we arrived here.”

A ripple of laughter broke out immediately. Kika, sitting snugly next to Pierre, was the first to respond, raising her glass with a playful roll of her eyes. “Well, I think I better drink, because let’s be honest—no one would believe me if I said no, considering my boyfriend is literally right here.”

Pierre nudged her with a grin, clearly unbothered by her admission as he sipped from his own glass. “As if the feeling isn’t mutual,” he teased, earning another round of laughter.

Across the room, Gigi tried to be subtle, lifting her glass for a quick sip, but Dennis’ sharp eyes caught her immediately. “Oh, I saw that, Gi!” he exclaimed, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

Gigi flushed crimson, glaring at him. “Shut up, Dennis,” she shot back, though the laughter in her voice betrayed her. “Don’t turn all the attention on me. I’m not the only one who drank!” She gestured toward a few others who had lifted their glasses.

“Oh, I’m not pretending I didn’t,” Dennis said casually, raising his glass again for emphasis. “Because I have zero shame” His eyes flicked toward you for the briefest moment, a sly grin tugging at his lips.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, silently hoping to stay under the radar. But your attempt at blending into the background only seemed to make you more conspicuous.

“Don’t act all shy now, Gasly,” Dennis teased, his tone smug. His eyes locked on you as he leaned forward. “I saw you take a sip. Don’t think I didn’t notice that. Care to enlighten us who the lucky one is?”

Your cheeks burned as every pair of eyes turned toward you. You scrambled to think of a response, your heart pounding in your chest. Finally, you forced a laugh, raising an eyebrow at Dennis. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” you quipped, your voice surprisingly steady despite the heat in your face.

The group erupted into a mix of laughter and teasing comments, but before the attention could shift completely, Arthur piped up from where he was seated beside Charles.

“Alright, alright,” Arthur said, his grin widening as he leaned forward. “We’ve all been so focused on you three, but is no one going to mention the fact that two other people drank as well?” His eyes darted pointedly toward Charles and Joris, his tone dripping with mock innocence. “Hmm, I wonder who those drinks were about.”

Charles stiffened slightly beside him, his jaw tightening as he tried to play it cool. “Don’t drag me into this,” he muttered, taking another sip of his drink as if to distract himself.

“Too late, mate,” Arthur shot back with a grin, nudging his brother’s shoulder. “You drank. That means you’ve got to own up to it.”

Joris, ever the instigator, leaned back with a smug grin of his own. “Yeah, Charles, don’t be shy. Who’s the lucky one, huh?”

Charles rolled his eyes, leaning back against the couch and trying to appear nonchalant. “Not a chance,” he said simply, though the tips of his ears betrayed a faint redness.

You couldn’t help but glance at him briefly, your curiosity piqued. Did he…? No, there was no way. You quickly shoved the thought aside, but the idea lingered annoyingly in the back of your mind.

Meanwhile, Charles’ thoughts were anything but composed. When you’d taken a sip earlier, his stomach had twisted uncomfortably. At first, he’d assumed it was Dennis—the way Dennis was always teasing you, always so close—but then another thought crept in, one that made his pulse quicken. What if it wasn’t Dennis?

The idea of it being about him sent a conflicting mix of emotions surging through him—hope, doubt, and an overwhelming sense of confusion. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice Joris’ subtle kick to his shin until it made contact.

“Stop staring,” Joris whispered, smirking at his friend. “You’re making it obvious.”

Charles snapped out of his reverie, glaring at Joris. “Shut up,” he muttered under his breath, shifting in his seat.

Arthur, ever the opportunist, caught the exchange and raised an eyebrow. “What’s this now?” he asked, clearly amused. “Charles getting a little distracted?”

“Leave him alone,” Joris said with a grin, though his tone was far from serious. “Poor guy’s got enough on his plate already.”

“Oh, definitely not, he's pestered me long enough about things, payback time” Arthur said, his laugh echoing over the group’s chatter as Charles groaned, clearly regretting his choice to participate

The laughter hadn’t fully settled when Paul leaned forward with a mischievous grin, his drink loosely dangling in one hand. He glanced between you and Charles, his tone teasing as he spoke.

“So, Y/n, didn’t you mention something about the walls here being thin?” Paul asked, clearly enjoying the tension he was stirring. “Hope Charles has been a quiet neighbor. Otherwise, you probably heard everything. Poor Y/n.”

The room erupted into laughter, Dennis and Arthur practically doubling over. Kika smirked, nudging Pierre, who groaned, already sensing where the conversation was heading.

Charles narrowed his eyes at Paul, his jaw tightening slightly before he forced a smirk onto his face. “I’m not a complete idiot, you know,” he shot back. “If I had to… handle things, I’d make sure no one heard a damn thing. Either that or I’d do it somewhere more private.”

The laughter grew louder, Dennis nearly choking on his drink. “Good to know you’ve got a strategy, mate,” he teased, wiping his mouth.

You couldn’t help but feel heat creeping up your neck at the implication. The idea of Charles trying to stay quiet, and worse, the thought of actually overhearing him, made your stomach twist in ways you didn’t want to unpack. Not that you’d ever admit it.

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t hear anything,” you retorted, forcing a grin to hide your flustered state. “Because if I did, I’d probably have hearing damage.”

Charles turned to you, his smirk sharpening as he shot back, “As if I’d want to get off with you right outside my room.”

The room went silent for half a beat before Dennis, never one to miss an opportunity, leaned forward with a wicked grin. “No,” he said, drawing out the word for effect. “Because you’d prefer her in the room, wouldn’t you?”

The laughter that followed was deafening. Dennis clinked his glass with Paul’s, who was shaking his head but laughing just as hard. Charles, on the other hand, turned beet red, his face almost matching the color of his drink.

You weren’t any better, your face burning as you buried it in your hands. “Dennis, I swear to God,” you muttered, though your voice was muffled by the roar of the group.

Pierre groaned, his expression one of pure disgust as he rubbed his temples. “Okay, are you done? Because we are so not dragging my baby sister into Charles’ dirty fantasies.”

Arthur, always ready to escalate things, grinned and leaned back in his chair. “We don’t have to drag her into anything, Pierre,” he joked. “Charles probably already does that himself.”

The laughter doubled, filling the room with chaos as you and Charles sat frozen in mortification. Kika had tears streaming down her face from laughing, while Joris clapped a hand on Charles’ shoulder, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Pierre glared at the group, clearly over it. “I don’t even want to know,” he muttered, waving a hand dismissively. “Can we just move on before I lose my mind?”

The group slowly settled, though the smirks and giggles lingered as someone suggested the next round of the game. But despite the conversation moving on, you couldn’t help but feel Charles’ gaze flick toward you now and then, and you hated how much your heart raced when it did.

Meanwhile, Charles couldn’t stop replaying Dennis’ comment in his head. The idea of you in his room—or worse, of you thinking about him in that way—had lodged itself in his mind, refusing to budge. He shook his head, trying to focus on the game, but it was no use.

Neither of you wanted to admit it, but the seed of thought had been planted, and it was impossible to ignore.

The game moved on, the attention shifting away from Charles and you for the moment, but the tension hung in the air like a spark waiting to ignite. Charles stole another glance at you, his thoughts still tangled in the what-ifs. And as for you? You couldn’t help but wonder if you were indeed the one that had made him drink in the first place.

It was Joris who leaned forward next, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Alright, never have I ever kissed my best friend.”

The room buzzed with anticipation as everyone exchanged curious glances. Inès was the first to raise her glass and take a drink, earning a few cheers and teasing remarks. But it was the way both you and Arthur looked at each other, simultaneously bursting into laughter, that drew all the attention. Without hesitation, the two of you clinked your glasses together dramatically and downed your drinks in one go.

Charles raised an eyebrow, his perplexed expression giving him away. “Wait—you and Y/n kissed?” he asked, his gaze flicking between the two of you, his tone tinged with disbelief.

Arthur let out a laugh, leaning back casually. “Jealous much?” he shot back, his grin widening when he saw the flicker of annoyance cross Charles’ face.

Charles opened his mouth to protest, but Arthur cut him off with a chuckle. “Relax, I’m just kidding.”

Despite his brother’s reassurance, Charles still looked a little dumbfounded, his confusion—and something else he wouldn’t name—lingering. Kika, always one to stir the pot, leaned forward with a smirk. “Okay, I’m curious now. What’s the story?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you waved a hand dismissively. “There’s not much of a story, honestly. Happened a few times. We were both hopeless and single, and we figured, why not? It was just for fun. Turns out we were terrible at it.”

Arthur nodded in agreement, still grinning. “Massive failure. Zero chemistry. The kiss sucked, and we both agreed never to try again.”

“And the other times?” Kika pressed, her curiosity clearly piqued.

“Oh, just Truth or Dare,” you replied with a shrug. “Happened once or twice when we were younger. Nothing serious. More like a punishment than a kiss, honestly.”

The room erupted into laughter, with Inès nearly choking on her drink as she laughed the hardest. “I can so picture your disgusted faces,” she managed between giggles.

As the laughter died down, Inès perked up, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Speaking of Truth or Dare,” she said, her grin widening, “we should switch to that. Way more interesting than this.”

The group exchanged glances, a ripple of excitement building at the prospect of what chaos Truth or Dare might bring. You couldn’t help but glance at Charles, whose expression was still unreadable, though his gaze lingered on you for just a second too long before he looked away. Whatever this next game would bring, you had a feeling it wasn’t going to get any less intense.

The questions escalated slowly, moving from tame confessions to more suggestive dares. Someone dared Dennis to prank call his ex, which he executed flawlessly, much to everyone’s amusement. Gigi had to show the last text she sent to Joris, blushing furiously as everyone gathered around to read it. Pierre, naturally, had been dared to whisper something filthy to Kika, who doubled over laughing and refused to tell anyone what he’d said.

Then it was Paul’s turn, and his eyes gleamed as he scanned the room, finally landing on you. “Y/n,” he called out with a grin. “Truth or dare?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Dare.”

Paul’s grin widened, and the others leaned in, already sensing mischief. “I dare you to kiss Charles.”

The room went dead silent, every eye darting toward you.

You froze for a beat before scoffing loudly. “God, no”

“Oh, come on,” Dennis teased, smirking at you. “A dare is a dare”

“No, ew!” you shot back, shaking your head emphatically. “Anyone else in the world rather than him. I’d rather stick my tongue inside a trash can than kiss him.”

The tension seemed to settle, the group already laughing at your dramatic protests, until Charles’ voice cut through. Low, clipped, and tinged with something that sounded like a challenge.

“That’s not what you told me when you were sixteen.”

The room froze. Even the laughter died instantly.

You stared at him, wide-eyed and stunned, your pulse roaring in your ears. His words hit like a slap, and you could see the regret flicker in his eyes almost immediately.

“That was a low blow, Charles,” Arthur muttered, shaking his head in disapproval.

Pierre leaned back with a grimace, gesturing to the group. “Guess it’s better to call this game quits, non?”

But you weren’t about to let it go. Swallowing the knot of hurt lodged in your throat, you stood, fixing your gaze on your brother. “No need to,” you said firmly. “Dennis is right, a dare is a dare.”

The group exchanged glances, unsure of what was about to happen, but you didn’t stop. The anger bubbling inside you had morphed into something else—something that demanded revenge.

You marched over to where Charles sat, his eyes widening as you closed the distance. Without a word, you reached down, lifting his chin with your thumb, forcing him to look at you.

His breath hitched, his lips parting slightly, but before he could speak, you crushed your mouth against his.

The kiss wasn’t gentle—it was heated, full of anger and defiance. His lips were warm and soft against yours, but the sharp inhale he took before his hands moved to your waist betrayed how caught off guard he was.

Charles froze for a split second, his mind scrambling to process what was happening. But when your tongue brushed against his lips, seeking entrance, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

A low, guttural sound escaped his throat as he kissed you back with equal fervor, his hand sliding behind your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. His pulse was racing, heat surging through his veins, and he struggled to keep himself in check.

Your hands slid down his chest, slow and deliberate, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. You knew exactly what you were doing as your palm settled over the bulge in his jeans, giving it a playful squeeze.

He let out a strangled sound, his body reacting instinctively, and you pulled back just enough to whisper, “I might’ve had a crush on you back when I was too delusional to see you for who you really are, but at least I’m not the one sitting here, a 27-year-old guy, getting hard because he had to kiss his best friend’s baby sister during a game.”

The room erupted. Dennis and Joris were practically howling with laughter, clapping each other on the back. Gigi and Kika exchanged wide-eyed glances before bursting into giggles. Even Arthur had his head in his hands, laughing despite himself.

Charles, on the other hand, looked utterly mortified. His face was beet red, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for words that wouldn’t come.

“Poor Charles,” Dennis teased, grinning wickedly. “Bet that wasn’t the reaction you were expecting.”

Another wave of laughter erupted, leaving Charles sitting in stunned silence. Finally, Charles downed the rest of his drink in one go, standing abruptly. “I need air,” he muttered before making his way out of the room and into the garden.

He pushed open the glass doors that led to the terrace, the cool night air hitting his flushed face like a balm. The stars glittered overhead, but he barely noticed them as he sank into one of the patio chairs, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

His heart was still pounding in his chest, his mind replaying the kiss over and over. He could still feel the ghost of your lips on his, the way your hand had trailed down his chest, resting on him with enough boldness to completely disarm him. And your words—sharp, cutting, and delivered with such venom—they were like a slap in the face.

He groaned softly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands. What the hell had he been thinking, making that comment about you at sixteen? He’d known it was cruel the second the words left his mouth, but he couldn’t stop himself. His insecurities, his regret, his jealousy—it all spilled out in the worst way possible.

The sound of the sliding door opening made him glance up. Arthur stepped out, holding two fresh beers in his hands. Without a word, he handed one to Charles and took the seat next to him.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sounds the distant crash of waves and the faint hum of cicadas. Finally, Arthur broke the quiet.

“You’re a dickhead,” he said matter-of-factly, taking a sip of his beer.

Charles let out a humorless laugh, nodding slightly. “I know.”

Arthur turned to him, his expression softening slightly. “That comment, mate—it was out of line. You really hurt her with that one.”

Charles sighed, staring at the bottle in his hand. “I know,” he said again, his voice quieter this time. “I wasn’t thinking. Or maybe I was, and that’s the problem.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“It’s just…” Charles paused, struggling to find the right words. “She makes me feel things I don’t know how to handle. And then when she said all that stuff about how she’d rather kiss a trash can or anyone else but me…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I just—reacted. Like an idiot.”

Arthur studied his brother for a moment before leaning back in his chair. “You know, it’s okay to feel things. But lashing out like that? That’s not how you handle it. You deserved what she did to you after that comment. Hell, if it were me, I’d have punched you.”

Charles chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it. “Yeah, well, she went for humiliation instead. And it worked.”

Arthur grinned. “Oh, it definitely worked. She got you good. But seriously, Charles, what’s your deal with her? One minute you’re at each other’s throats, and the next, you’re looking at her like…” He gestured vaguely, trying to find the right words.

Charles sighed, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the sky. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “She gets under my skin. Always has. And for the longest time, I told myself it was just because she’s Pierre’s sister, and I shouldn’t feel anything for her.” He paused, his voice softening. “But I do. I have for a few years now.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “You’re in love with her.”

Charles didn’t answer, but the silence spoke volumes.

Arthur let out a long breath, tapping the neck of his beer bottle thoughtfully. “You’ve got to stop letting that eat you alive, mate. Either you tell her how you feel, or you let it go. This whole act of yours, pretending you’re indifferent while secretly wanting her? It’s not working. It’s just making things worse—for both of you.”

“I know,” Charles said quietly. “But it’s not that simple. She hates me now. And maybe she has a reason to.”

Arthur gave him a pointed look. “She doesn’t hate you, Charles. She’s angry, sure. And maybe a bit hurt. But hate? No. If she really hated you, she wouldn’t have kissed you like that.”

Charles frowned, replaying the kiss in his mind. The anger, the passion—it had been overwhelming, intoxicating. But there had been something else beneath it, something he couldn’t quite name.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted finally.

Arthur clapped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Start by apologizing. And I don’t mean a half-assed apology. Really apologize, Charles. Own up to your shit. Then maybe, just maybe, you can start fixing things.”

Charles nodded slowly, the weight of his brother’s words sinking in. He didn’t know if it was too late to fix things with you, but for the first time, he felt a glimmer of hope that it might not be.

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taglist: @vroomvro0mferrari @fishyfishersticks @prttylight @tempo-rary-fix @suns3treading @a-beaverhausen @formula1fordisaster @janeh22 @leclercdream @sageskiesf1 @ch16les @emryb @vyctorya @asmoothoperator @dilfsaresohot @freyathehuntress @sarx164

[glossgojo]

the neighborhood keeps getting smaller

joel miller x reader

cw: 18+ MINORS DNI, p in v sex, joel has a big dick, breeding kink, size kink, pet names, MATING PRESS BRRR, slight dumbification, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids don’t be dumb)

can be read as a sequel to hold me across state lines

you and joel have been going slow whether you like it or not, you finally get a chance to spend some together when ellie is out for the night….

ellie had caught on pretty quickly that things had changed between you two. in fact the next morning at breakfast she blurted out, “you guys are fucking aren’t you?”

“oh my god ellie.” you clutched your head with your hands, elbows on the table as you felt a headache incoming. joel grumbled next to you and ellie almost gagged at his cheeks coloring pink. i mean, could you even blame her? you woke up this morning dredging into the kitchen in only what appeared to be joel’s shirt, looking around like a lost puppy until you met his eyes. joel wasn’t any better, his jaw dropped a little bit and his eyes swept over you quickly. ellie didn’t even hold back an eye roll; it wasn't like you two were paying her any attention anyways. you couldn’t raise your head and look the teenager in the eyes, you’d let joel handle this one. besides it wasn’t like you two had fucked you’d just gotten more intimate than two platonic partners ever did.

“ellie, first of all don’t talk like that especially when we’re eating, secondly we’re taking it slow and when we’re ready to tell you anything we’ll let you know.” joel��s tone, although gruff and stern, soothed your nerves. this wasn’t a one time thing and he was making it clear to both of you in that moment. when you woke up from the deepest sleep you’d had in a while you expected him to be next to you, so when you wandered into the kitchen this morning you needed comfort, you needed confirmation.

“okay fine but it’s not like it’s a surprise to anyone. the whole town thought you guys were practically married.” with that ellie scarfed down her remaining pancake and took her plate to the sink. you looked up at joel who looked equally confused as you were. were you both such fools? it seemed you two were the last to know. you waited until you could hear ellie stomp all the way upstairs and close her bedroom door behind her.

“God how am i gonna look her in the eyes?” you were a motherly figure to the girl, you felt mortified just thinking about facing her again.

“it’s fine, clearly the whole town was thinking it anyways.” joel had to admit he felt a sick thrill knowing the whole town thought you were his. it certainly explained why none of the younger eligible bachelors who snuck glances at you, but dared to approach you. he had likened it to his glaring, but clearly it was something more.

“jesus christ, they were, weren't they?” you scoffed and couldn’t help but take in joel’s appearance. he looked well-rested and as cheery as joel miller possibly could be. no wonder ellie had suspected something. “uhm joel.” joel didn’t think he could hear his name come out of your mouth without picturing you laid out for him, arched in pleasure and crying out his name like it was the only word you knew.

his mind stopped working for a moment as he looked at your messy hair and swollen eyes, and then he responded realizing he could only stare at you so long. a simple hum from him caused you to shiver as you scouted to the edge of your seat, your bare thigh brushing against his denim one.

“did you mean it when you said we’re taking things slow?” joel’s gaze traveled from your dilated pupils to your parted lips and found their home in your flushed cheeks. he wanted nothing more than to clear the table and cap off his meal with the dessert between your legs, but he wanted to know what you wanted. this was his last way to give you an out, to let you get ready of him easy. so it was only natural when he spoke next. your wide pretty eyes were clinging onto his every word as soon as his mouth opened and he itched to pull you close and kiss the air from your lungs.

“it’s up to you darling.” his voice was deep as he ground out his words. darling. with his southern drawl and your proclivity to find every word the man said to be sensual, you couldn’t even hide the chill that traveled down your spine. you were absolutely dazed as you swung your leg over his thighs and settled onto his lap. you barely fit in the space between him and the table but you didn’t care, you’d nestle in between his ribs if he let you. joel’s eyes took you in like you were the only thing in the world, studying your features and the pretty flush on your skin that seemed to go with him wherever he went. he wished he hadn’t wasted so much time with you.

“if you keep calling me darling, we’ll have to continue where we left off last night.” you leaned forward, whispering it into his good ear. joel could feel his blood traveling south, you sure knew how to make him feel young. fortunately, you were not quite on his bulge, otherwise he’s not sure either of you would be talking much longer. joel had his hands on your waist, he’d done it purposefully because if they went any south he’d have to find out just how south he could travel without you stopping him. he’d bet it was as much as he wanted.

“is that all it takes? pretty girl like you probably heard things like that often.” joel can imagine men and women alike throwing themselves at your feet. you were so damn gorgeous and good he felt like he’d won the lottery. a deep grumble resounded from your chest at his pet name once again, you’d let him do anything to you if he kept sweetening you up.

“don’t you know i’m gone for you miller?” you were slowly blinking, sleep still in your eyes and joel thought he felt his heart skip a beat. you looked like an angel sent just for him, he didn’t deserve an angel.

“i’m starting to pick up on that.” if you were far gone, joel was off the deep end.

“hmm well, it’s just you, no one else affects me like this.” you moved closer, your arms looped around his neck tightening. you could almost feel his bulge and joel had to groan as he felt his self-control slip. you smelled so good, like sex and honeysuckle. joel pressed a kiss to your forehead, you melted into him a little bit more.

“that makes us two of us sweetheart, but we should probably wait for when ellie’s not here.” he was warning you, trying to stop what was coming as he saw your eyes darken, your breathing picking up as your breast pressed into his chest.

“i can be quiet.” you were gonna be the death of him.

“tempting, but i’d rather hear you yell my name like you’ve gotten so fucking good at.” a small little smile painted your lips and joel fell a little more in love. instead of being shy, you seemed proud of yourself, like his name was made for you to scream.

“alright but go around calling me sweetheart, i might just crack.” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, your soft lips grazing against his rough beard, as you swung your leg back over and gave joel a good glimpse at your underwear.

it did nothing to help his hard-on.

since that breakfast with ellie you both had been good, stealing kisses when you could. the next night you both fell asleep with joel holding you close, just like you always did. but there was something simmering in both of you, you could feel it travel between your thighs and remain unattended. you three were having dinner at the community hall, when a girl ellie’s age asked her to watch a movie. you’d seen the girl hanging around ellie before, knew she was close with her as much as one could get to the wary teenager. “finish your dinner hon, then you can go do whatever you want.”

“is it okay if ellie sleeps over? the movie will end late.” you exchanged a look with joel, you weren’t giving up your kid that easily. you moved to stand up, the girl a little intimidated by you. you wondered if she’d start crying if joel had taken this one.

softening your expression slightly you asked, “where’s your parents?” the girl pointed in the direction of two people standing in line for food, ellie groaned in embarrassment and you ruffled her hair to tease her a bit more. it felt so plainly familiar that you thought about all the times you’d do the same with your little sister. joel couldn’t help but feel a shudder at the way you treated ellie, you always were so warm with her and he wished he could do it as easily as you did. ellie saw you as a mother, there was no doubt in his mind about that. you moved towards the couple with the girl following you. the couple was painfully normal and sweet, they seemed so well-adjusted you wondered if they’d ever even seen a clicker. despite your slight disdain for their blissful ignorance you couldn’t deny that they seemed perfectly normal and harmless. it also didn’t hurt that you were sure your ellie could take them any day of the week. with that you nodded at the parents and told the girl that ellie would find her after dinner. walking back to the table you found joel’s gaze on you, a look in his eye you couldn’t quite comprehend.

dinner passed by and joel and you said goodbye to ellie, telling her to be kind but not to hesitate to leave if she feels unsafe. it was the first night you’d spent apart since you joined them.

joel took your hand in his as you walked to the edge of town and made your way to your condo. you were surprised by his touch but welcomed it nonetheless, with joel you’d take whatever he gave you. “you think ellie’s okay right now?”

“just thinking about that myself actually.” you knew joel was as worried about her as you were. he didn’t let on just how much he worried but you knew, you could tell from the permanent frown had gotten deeper.

“we can swing by their place, i already asked maria for their address.” you and joel could probably break in and check on her but that would be a bit extreme even for you two.

“of course you did.” joel shot you a smirk, making your heart beat pick up. you both entered the home and you kicked off your boots, throwing off your jacket and hanging it up. you watched as joel did the same, taking in his broad chest that stretched against his shirt as he took off his jacket. you could watch him all day.

“gonna hop in the shower darlin’.” you nodded, slightly in a daze, following joel like a puppy as he walked towards your shared bedroom.

“can i join you?” joel pressed a kiss to your lips as he grabbed a towel and opened the bathroom door. you shivered at the feeling of his hot breath against your lips.

“how bout you just sit pretty and wait for me hm?” he motioned towards the bed and you nodded eagerly, joel found your enthusiasm maddening. he wanted you just as badly but he’d rather take you in the bed, it was the least you deserved. meanwhile you didn’t care where you were with him, as long as you could have him. after what felt like the longest 5 minutes of your life, the bathroom door cracked open, to reveal joel in only a towel around his waist. you didn’t even think twice before you padded over only in socks and one of joel’s shirts. your eyes widened as you outstretched a hand to feel the graying chest hair and maddening small gut surrounded by strong muscles. joel watched you wordlessly as your eyes narrowed at scars he’d gained over the years, your small hand inspecting and feeling whatever you could. joel felt something swell in his chest as you eyed him down, there was no hesitation in you to reach out for him. when you finally seemed satisfying joel stepped to the side so he could at least pull on a pair of boxers. your eyes never left him and joel could’ve laughed at how hungry you were for him if his mouth wasn’t salivating at the sight of your hard nipples through his fucking t-shirt.

joel toweled his hair dry, watching you as you continued to ogle him. he wasn’t any better, in the few seconds he wasn’t looking at your eyes he was taking in your curves or how he didn’t want you in anything other than his clothes. it was just as sexy as the suggestion of fabric you’d worn as lingerie before.

“come here darlin’,” you blushed instantly, moving towards him as he threw the towel to the side. your hands came up to smooth his hair down, it looked wild and you wanted to mess it for yourself later on. you raked a hand through his hair, your fingernails scraping his scalp, and joel let out a content grumble. your pussy clenched around air from the sound, you were exposed under this shirt, cool air making it clear to you how wet you were already getting. joel’s hands came up to your hips, squeezing and earning a gasp from your lips as your hands cupped his face. he pulled you closer, leaning down as he pressed a kiss to your lips, his tongue trailing the seam of your lips and you moaned out his name in response. “bed, now.” you wasted no time in backpedaling with joel’s hands still on your hips, not even breaking eye contact as you sighed out in content. when the back of your knees hit the bedframe, joel lifted you over it and dropped you onto the bed like you weighed nothing. you almost let out another whimper. joel climbed over you, his thighs caging you in as he sat up and raked over you.

“y’don’t know how long i’ve been dreaming about this,” you gasped as his hands traveled down until they reached the edge of your shirt, his rough fingertips brushing the bare skin where the shirt met your thighs. you whined and grasped the bedsheets as you tried not to just pull him to you, you were already so desperate you didn’t know know how much more you could forsake your dignity.

“how long?” you practically whined it out when his fingertips dipped under the shirt, slowly making their way up.

“ever since i saw you.” you whined out his name as his hands found their way to either side of your hips, the calluses on his thumbs created friction as they swiped along your soft skin.

“no underwear huh?” joel’s brown eyes were wide, his pupils blown out like you were sure yours were. you swallowed down as his eyes kept staring you down, staring where you needed him most.

“why waste time?” you noted, as his hands shoved the material up, past your belly-button leaving you exposed. joel pushed the material up until your breasts were exposed and your nipples poked up into the air. you would’ve felt shy if not for the low curse joel muttered under his breath. without warning the man dove down, his mouth traveling up your navel leaving kisses and bites along your center. your hands found refuge in his hair, tangling the damp strands between your fingers and pulling when he bit you a little harder than you anticipated. joel, tantalizingly slow, kissed his way to your breasts. his mouth latched onto one nipple as his fingers teased the other. the bite of his teeth, the suck of his mouth, and the rough pad of his finger felt like fire against you and it made your mind swim with desire. joel was mean to your breasts, not letting up until you could see red marks blooming on your chest. you had tried to be quiet, knowing joel didn’t want the whole neighborhood to hear you but you couldn’t help it when he pulled you between his teeth and moved away, “joel!” the fucker laughed at your reaction, pressing his now free thumb to your lips. without much thought you stuck your tongue out to lick it, joel’s grip on your hip tightened.

“want you inside.” joel’s erection was straining his boxers and you wanted to feel him, you’d beg if you had to. he nodded at your words, seemingly in a daze from your actions and words. lowering down as his hand followed and moved to finger you. he pulled your ankles to rest on his shoulders, giving him easier access. although you loved his hands, you wouldn’t last much longer, not with him looking at you like this and not with desire coursing through you more than any sensible thought. you wanted to come with him, placing a hand over his you spoke. “joel please just fuck me, i’m prepped.” joel seriously doubted that being that you struggled to take three of his fingers last time, but nonetheless he nodded and pressed a kiss to your ankle. joel pushed his boxers down, taking them off in one swift movement and your jaw dropped.

it was the biggest dick you’d ever seen, thick and long, perfectly cropped gray dark hair at the base and your mouth watered at the sight of it. despite your desire, doubt creeped into your mind, “joel it’s so big, i don’t think it’ll fit.” your words sparked a fire in him and joel had to push down the very real need to plunge into you and make you sob from the stretch but he needed to soothe your doubt. and despite your wide eyes he could see your pussy clenching on air as if begging to take him. joel had to stifle a smirk at the sight.

“you can take it doll, you’re a big girl.” you swallowed as you nodded, trusting him implicitly and sitting up as you watched him. despite your earlier comments, joel still had to check that you weren’t too tight and he didn’t need to grab lube to make it easier on you, he stuck two fingers into you, a low moan resounding from your throat at the feeling of something finally touching you where you needed. sure enough, joel found you were practically dripping. he looked from his fingers glistening from your ichor back to you with a teasing curiosity in his eyes and you just sighed in defeat, throwing your head back. joel took this time to move closer to you, your ankles going past his head as your legs glided over his shoulders, lining himself up. joel looked at you for any hesitation, except you were just looking past his face, nodding in anticipation.

joel does his best to move slowly, pushing his head in first, you gasp at the stretch. you’re burning up and yet you need more, you want him to break you. your eyes roll to the back of your head when he pushes two inches in and joel thinks he should take a picture of your face to save forever. he can keep his composure, control his speed until you look him straight in the eyes and smile so wide he thinks he might be imagining it. joel can’t help but plunge into you. your mind instantly goes numb, the stretch burning and his tip hitting your cervix, tears sting your eyes as joel gives you time to adjust, “so fucking tight pretty girl, it’s like you were made for me.” and you can’t talk, the pleasure cutting off any connection between your mind and your body. joel feels so suffocated by your pussy, he’s not sure he’ll last long, not when you look so pretty crying over his cock or when you’re so warm and wet for him he feels overwhelmed by the notion alone.

so he starts moving slowly, fractionally moving in and out, you start clenching less as your body gets used to him. it doesn’t stop the mind-numbing shock you feel when his dick kisses your cervix, but it still keeps you sane. joel feels himself going insane, even with his bad ear he can perfectly hear how fucking wet you are and the downright pornographic sounds your bodies are making. he’s still a gentleman, still has some decency to warn you before he fucks you dumb.

“safe word is texas okay.” you nod enthusiastically, clutching your breast as joel pulls out completely and fucks into you with his full length. your jaw slackens, tears pooling at the edge of your eyes, and you can’t help but scream his name. joel’s pace doesn’t relent after that, he’s bruising your cervix and your mind and body can only agree on one thing and that’s joel. you scream his name as the angle of your bodies does nothing to help the intense pleasure you feel. joel stretches you and you don’t think you could ever want another dick in your life, not when you can feel his veins imprinting on your walls, or the throb of his cock inside you. you cum when he angles himself even deeper, white painting your vision as you arch and stiffen against him, joel whispering praises as he keeps his brutal rhythm. you feel joel grow close when his grunts turn to curses and interchange with your name.

you think joel must be feeling as brainless as you do when he starts muttering, “this pussy is mine, y/n fuck can’t have anyone else after this.” you feel yourself close to another orgasm and then joel pushes against your hips, your legs stretching to get him closer, your bodies flush against each other and while you thought that joel couldn’t stretch you any more you were totally wrong. he’s dragging against your walls like he was made for them. pressing into you like he wants to put a baby in you, and you are so fucked dumb, words barely escaping your mouth as he slides in and out of you. you’re babbling nonsense and joel thinks he’s no better as he feels himself close. his thumb finds your clit, massaging until he feels you clench around him.

“come with me doll.” you cry out his name and joel takes it as a yes, his pace slowing down to an equally torturous slow and deep one. he moves to pull out and you whine. joel almost loses his mind.

“no no no please want your cum.” you’d deal with the consequences tomorrow right now you’d go crazy if you didn’t feel filled by him. and he can’t bring himself to deny you. you have tears streaming down your face from desire, and he’s not a monster. joel comes inside, burying himself to the hilt and you feel warm from his cum, feeling it fill you up and it’s so much you’re starting to think you’ll never feel fuller. when joel pulls out, your juices combined with his spill down your cunt, and joel thinks he’s worked up an appetite.

READ MORE

[rlimagi]

Only Hers

Pairing: Princess Red x Reader

Requested?: Yes!

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: jealousy?

Being born into the royal life, you’ve always been loved and spoilt rotten especially by your parents and older brother, Ben.

Ever since you were a child, kids would follow you around school, invite you to playdates and birthdays, some would even give you their own piggy bank just for a chance to have your attention.

That never changed even when you started high school at Auradon Prep, a school where other royals or kids of famous figures attended and yet, you were still always the center of their attention.

But today you were not because everyone seemed to avoid you like the plague whenever Red’s by your side and you had no idea why. When you were alone, some people were less wary but still, many of them were afraid to even breathe near you today.

It was driving you a bit crazy because you were sure you hadn’t done anything bad that could cause them to react such a way.

One time you tried to approach a classmate to ask her about your group project and she looked at you in horror before running off.

You weren’t sure why because everyone was extremely friendly with you all year. You would often find love letters in your lockers, you never had to carry your own books because boys and girls would wait outside of your class just to hold them for you to your other classes, one girl even made you a chocolate statue of yourself for your birthday.

None of the people mentioned even dared to look at you in the eyes today. It felt extremely weird since you were used to having everybody’s eyes on you and on Valentine’s Day too, something wasn’t adding up.

But then it all added up when you saw Red scaring away a group of girls who were trying to sneak love letters into your locker. Your eyes followed her actions as she threw their letters away before looking around her surroundings.

You decided that it was your time to shine as she pulled a sparkly pink envelope out of her bag, looking oddly suspicious.

“What have you got there?” You skillfully sneaked behind her and whispered in her ear as she was about to slip it into your locker.

Red became as still as a rock when you whispered in her ears before turning around awkwardly, her cheeks flushed in embarrassment after you caught her looking like a deer caught in headlights.

“Nothing!“ Red blurted out awkwardly as she ripped the pretty envelope behind her back and tried to discreetly throw it into the bin beside her.

“Hmm…” A playful smirk rose on your lips as you eyed her up and down in suspicion before pretending to play along.

“If you say so.” You muttered before leaning against one of the lockers beside Red. You knew that Red was clearly hiding something by how weird and awkward she was, and you will definitely get it out of her.

Thankfully, you took acting lessons when you were younger because you were interested in plays and now you will use your skills to play her.

Without another second wasted, you put on an act. Sighing deeply, you looked at Red with the most innocent expression you could muster up. “Anyways, have you seen how people have been all weird with me today? I mean, today is Valentine’s Day and my locker is usually flooded with gifts but today people have been avoiding me…”

You looked at Red and noticed how she was trying to keep her cool and nodding at everything you say. “Really? What’s up with them?”

“Oh, I don’t know…is there something wrong with me? I mean did you hear any rumors about me?” You acted frustrated and ran your fingers through your hair to sell your act. It’s something you’d only do when you’re stressed out and Red clearly knew that.

“N-No way! I mean no, I haven’t heard anything…it’s probably nothing!” Red stumbled over her words as she waved her hands around.

“I don’t think it’s nothing but I’ll take your word for it.” You shook your head, looking awfully upset before patting Red on the shoulder before walking away from your target.

You knew Red wouldn’t confess at that moment, but you knew she would crack eventually as you continued your act.

The next few days you continued with your act but Red didn’t give up either but you finally had enough and didn’t want it to drag on longer than it should.

After school was over, you went knocking on her door looking like you were about to cry. Of course you weren’t really that sad about people being too afraid to be near you, but you had to be dramatic or else you wouldn’t be able to get to Red.

You jumped straight onto her bed as soon as she let you in. You quickly made yourself comfortable because Red had the softest blankets, an excuse you usually used when you want to sleep over in her room.

Red’s eyebrows furrowed in worry as she laid down right next to you, she had never seen you so upset before since you were usually so chirpy. “Are you okay?”

Your frown grew deeper as you shook your head before reaching for both of her hands, looking at her straight in the eyes. “Red, be honest with me. Am I not pretty anymore? Have I been eating too much lately? Rate me out of a 1 to 10, how annoying am I? Maybe I should go on a d-“

“Wait stop! What are you talking about? Did somebody say something to you?” Red frowned, looking extremely worried but also angry at the thought that someone might be talking about you in that way. You’re a confident girl and had always held yourself up high so it wasn’t like you at all.

Red had always been protective over you but most of the time she acted as if she didn’t care about you. One time you saw her beating up a a guy for looking at you the wrong way but then acted like everything was okay when you asked her about her bruised fists.

“No, not that I know of at least. It’s just that people have been afraid to talk to me since Valentines and I don’t know what I did wrong!” You exclaimed in frustration as tears fell down onto your cheeks. They weren’t real tears of course, you used eye drops right before you went into Red’s room to make it more convincing.

Red’s gaze soften as she leaned over to wipe your tears away. “You didn’t do anything wrong…” Her voice trailed off as she continued to stare at you intensely, she held a guilty look but you could see that she was fighting with herself on whether to confess what she had done or not.

You shook your head before hiding your face in your hands. “No- I must’ve have done something.”

Red’s mind was flooded with guilt as she felt even more uncomfortable the more she continued to watch you cry. And it was all because of her and her jealousy.

The princess of Wonderland had never felt loved before so she never understood what that word meant or what it felt like.

When she first met you, she was skeptical because you were so nice and everything about you seemed so right that it felt wrong to her.

But eventually, her cold heart warmed up and then she grew to love every part of you and everything you did felt so right to her.

She loved being around you, whether you were busy doing something else, talking to someone else, or just doing nothing at all. Being around you made her feel all sorts of things, her heart beat would go faster, there was some sort of fluttery feeling in her stomach, and she could never stop her self from smiling at you.

The feelings were new to her and she didn’t understand why her blood pressure would rise up whenever she sees a guy try to flirt with you. Or when another girl gave you flowers and chocolate, you seemed so happy accepting those. Red hated that she wasn’t the reason of your smile that day.

One thing led to another, she began scaring away your admires whenever they tried to get close. Red made sure you wouldn't find out because she wasn't sure why she had done what she did in the first place. Red wouldn't have an answer if you asked her why.

But then she saw how terribly upset you were and all she wanted to do was confess. Red wanted to be the reason of your smile and yet, she was the cause of your tears that day.

"You didn't do anything...I did.”

You were fighting not to smile when she spoke up. “What happened?” You asked, looking at her in confusion as you watched her bit her lips in discomfort.

“People were avoiding you because I scared them away.” Red sighed, clearly not proud of what she did but she would totally do it again if she had to.

You continued to put up your confused act, taking her hands into yours you looked at Red straight in the eyes. “But why did you scare them away, Red?”

“I didn’t like it when people flirted with you or walk you down the hallway, I didn’t like them being around you at all.” Red grew irritated just by the thought of other people getting too close to you for her likings. You weren’t her property but she couldn’t help but feel possessive.

“Why don’t you like them? Did they do something?” You already knew the answer but you just wanted Red to admit it herself. You knew how proud she could be sometimes so she just needed a little push.

Red was frustrated with herself for not getting straight to the point but she was afraid by how you might react when she did.

“They didn’t do anything…I scared them off because I was jealous-“ Red stood up, her heart was beating so much faster than usual, her palms were sweaty, and she couldn’t look at you in the eye.

“And I also threw away love letters from your admires- It was wrong of me but I couldn’t control myself and I think I was feeling that way because I really like you.” Red confessed, she stopped pacing around to look at your reaction but there was none.

You stayed silence for a few seconds, but it felt like hours to Red. She was waiting you to say something but you didn’t until you eventually broke into laughers when you couldn’t contain yourself any longer.

“Wait, hold on. Why are you laughing, I’m being serious.” Red frowned, her thoughts were all over the place. Maybe it was a bad idea to confess to you after all. Fortunately, you stopped laughing after a while but you were still grinning ear to ear.

“Oh I know, Red. I just find your reaction adorable.” You chuckled before patting on empty place on the bed, gesturing Red to sit next to you.

Red’s cheek reddened at your subtle compliment but she was still as confused as ever. “Why don’t you look surprised?”

A smug smile grew on your face. “Because I‘m not. I caught you stopping a group of girls from touching my locker the other day, and you weren’t being very subtle these past few days.”

“Then, why didn’t you say anything?” Red asked in pure confusion as she sat back down on the bed, next to where you were.

“I wanted you to admit it yourself.” You shrugged, leaning forward before poking her cheek gently.

“Plus, you’re very adorable when you’re jealous.”

“I really want to feed you to the jabberwockies right now.” Red rolled her eyes and slapped your fingers away when you tried to poke her cheek again. “Stop poking my cheek!”

You giggled as you retreated your hand away from her face. Then, you moved to sit right in front of her, trying to get her to make eye contact with you but she was avoiding them at all cost. “You’re very romantic, Red. Is this what you should say to your girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend?” Red finally stopped glaring at the sheets and immediately whipped her head to face yours in shock, a pink tinge spread across her cheeks.

“Do you not want us to be?” You asked in a teasing matter, a smug smirk still laid on your lips as you watched Red blushed even harder as she tried to come up with words to reply.

“Yes! No! I mean, I do…want us to be girlfriends.”

Red watched as your smile grew wider when she finally said those words. The thought of you and her dating had been on her mind since forever, it felt great when it became a reality.

“May I?”

Red’s breath hitched when you leaned close to her face, your noses were nearly touching as you held her chin so gently and asked for permission to kiss her.

Red nodded, her heart continued to beat so fast she felt like it could explode as your lips finally touched hers. She had never kissed anyone, so she didn’t know what it should feel like, but what she did know was that you made her want to capture the moment and relive it forever.

After you both pulled away, Red was finally aware of her surroundings and immediately grabbed the closest pillow before using it to hide her face so you wouldn’t see how red she was.

“I didn’t know you’re the shy type.” You chuckled before taking away the pillow from her hands before moving it away so you could see her pretty face.

“Shut up.” Red rolled her eyes, trying to seem annoyed but the smile on her face told you otherwise. “And you seem experienced, have you kissed anyone else before?”

You immediately froze at her question before laughing awkwardly, trying to avoid her gaze.

“Uh, next question!”

[cherienymphe]

Bubblegum Bitch (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, attempted sexual assault, dumb!reader, bimbo!reader, kook!reader, underage drinking

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ ​​

summary: ...because you’re just too dumb to look out for yourself, Rafe takes matters into his own hands.

~

You hung onto Sarah as she helped you into her house, your ankle screaming in protest with every movement. You were thinking that maybe you should’ve listened to the blonde when she told you not to climb so high on the rock, but the sunset was too pretty, and you wanted to get the perfect picture. As much as your ankle was hurting, it was kind of worth it.

“Okay, sit here, and I’ll get some ice,” Sarah told you, depositing you on her couch.

“Okay!” you chirped, distracted as you flipped through your phone to study the pictures you took. “They came out so pretty!”

You showed Sarah as she neared, and she sent you a warm smile, a soft chuckle escaping her.

“Yeah, but next time, let’s come up with a less dangerous way to get the pictures,” she advised, bag of ice in hand.

You hissed a bit when the cold touched your skin, relaxing as it started to soothe the ache.

“Your mom would kill me if you got seriously hurt again.”

You knew what Sarah was referring to, of course.

That one time you were at a bonfire and leaned too far over to roast the marshmallows, something that took forever for that particular part of your hair to grow back from. Or that time you weren’t paying attention while dipping some punch at a party, and the glass bowl holding it all fell all over you, shallow cuts adorning your feet for weeks. Your face fell some as you thought about how mad your mom had been at Sarah for not looking out for you better.

It didn’t seem fair to you.

It’s not like you were some kid who couldn’t do anything right.

“It’s just a sprain…I think,” you added, shrugging. “She doesn’t have to know.”

Sarah gave you a look at that, and just then, movement on the stairs caught your attention.

You looked up, eyes landing on a familiar face, and you smiled at the sight of him. Sarah’s brother Rafe was someone you mostly saw in passing. Sometimes you found yourself interacting with him, offering him some of your fries to which he’d dryly decline, or the odd occasion where you were in his way, hurrying to move at the mean sneer on his face. Rafe always seemed to be in a bad mood when you were around, and because Sarah assured you he was just like that, you always tried your best to cheer him up.

“Hey, Rafe,” you called.

Sarah looked over her shoulder at the sound of your voice, huffing to herself. She rolled her eyes as she turned back around, and you blinked at him when he didn’t return your smile. You watched him sigh, ignoring as you he asked Sarah where their parents were.

“Out,” the younger girl quickly replied.

You watched Rafe throw her a look at that before his gaze landed on you again.

“Any reason why she’s here?” he asked, and your brows drew together.

Something about his tone didn’t make you feel good, but you brushed it aside when Sarah just shook her head, quietly telling you to ignore him.

“I do,” she said, standing to her feet. “I’m going to get something to wrap it.”

You smiled at her as she hurried upstairs, and when you looked over, you found Rafe’s gaze on you as he leaned against the kitchen counter. You noticed that he stared at you a lot, especially when Sarah wasn’t around, and you didn’t know why. You watched his blue eyes fall to your ankle where you held the ice, and he brought the beer in his hand up to his lips.

“What happened?” he mumbled around the neck. “Try to walk and chew gum at the same time?”

You blinked, frowning a bit just as he chuckled.

“No?” you replied, confused by the odd comment. “I was taking pictures of the sunset, and I needed to get on some rocks to get a good picture…”

You trailed off when he started to laugh, shaking his head at you.

“Of course, you were,” he slowly commented. “I don’t even know why I asked.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, and you chewed on your lip, glancing away as he continued to eye you.

“Are you going to Topper’s party, tonight? I’m going with Sarah,” you tried to change the subject, smiling at him.

Rafe stared at you in silence for a while, strangely and with a frown on his face. After some time, he scoffed, pushing himself away from the counter, looking at you from beneath his lashes.

“He’s kind of my best friend, Y/N,” he slowly said. “Why wouldn’t I?”

You shuddered at the sound of your name coming from his lips. He always had a way of saying it that made you feel…uneasy. It was like when you drank just enough to feel bad but not enough to ignore it. Your chuckle was light, not thinking of that for some reason, and you nodded.

“That makes sense.”

Rafe was nearing the stairs just as Sarah reappeared at the top of them, and he kept his gaze on you for as long as possible.

“You should probably stay home though,” he threw over his shoulder. “We wouldn’t want you to fall in a hole somewhere after you’ve had too much to drink.”

Your friend hissed his name as she passed him, a deep frown on her face, but Rafe only chuckled to himself. Again, the comment had your mind wandering in confusion. Topper’s mom kept their yard to perfection, and there wasn’t a patch of uneven grass, let alone any holes. Sarah heavily sighed as she neared you with some gauze, mumbling to herself.

“He’s such an ass,” she voiced. “Seriously, just ignore him.”

That was what she always told you, but it was kind of hard to do. Rafe had a way of stealing your attention sometimes whether you wanted to give it or not, and it wasn’t just because he was pretty. He was so different from Sarah, and you guessed he fascinated you in a way. Always so grumpy and unhappy, and it seemed like no matter how much you tried to cheer him up or at least get a smile out of him, it never worked.

…and you didn’t know why.

“Don’t sweat it so much,” Kelce chuckled later that night. “Rafe is Rafe.”

He smiled at you, flicking your chin, and making you join him. Two of his friends were with him, Topper glued to Sarah’s side, and Rafe nowhere to be found. You didn’t remember their names, although you were sure you’d met them before. Their faces did look familiar, after all, and you felt bad about not being able to place them.

They didn’t seem to care much though as they returned your smile.

“That’s a cute dress,” one of them said, reaching out and pulling on the end. “You always wear the cutest stuff though.”

“Isn’t it?” you added, spinning around and making the skirt fly up a bit. “Sarah picked it out!”

“Sarah has great taste,” the other told you, eyes looking over you and admiring the dress.

You imagined he liked the color just as much as you did, and you started telling him about how it was the last one, and Sarah had to almost fight some lady for it. You were taking a sip of your drink when you took a step back, bumping into someone, and you jerked when the cold liquid spilled onto you. You gasped in shock, more than grateful when Kelce grabbed a napkin and started dabbing at the fabric.

“I got it,” you told him, reaching for it instead, but he smiled at you, insisting.

However, another hand came between you and snatched the napkin away. You blinked in shock, looking up just as Rafe’s other hand grabbed your arm, starting to pull you away.

“Hey, Rafe,” Kelce nervously chuckled. “We were just… She had an accident so…”

He trailed off, and you looked between him and Rafe as the blond pulled you away. He gave Kelce a look that you couldn’t place, the other guy and his friends sort of shrinking in on themselves.

“Uh huh,” was all Rafe said, and you stumbled with him in confusion as he led you away.

“What are you doing? Is it Sarah?”

Rafe softly chuckled to himself at that, shaking his head.

“Is it Sarah,” he mumbled, sounding more like a statement. “No, it’s not Sarah.”

He roughly let you go, making you stumble, and you frowned as he threw the napkin at you.

“Here,” he spat, huffing to himself as he looked you over. “Clean yourself up.”

You slowly did as he said, carefully watching him as he watched you, jaw clenching and eyes hard. There was that sour feeling again. Here you were, at a party and surrounded by so many people, but it strangely felt like you and Rafe were the only ones in the room. There was an uneasy feeling in your chest, and you bit your lip.

“Are you…are you mad at me?” you nervously asked.

It was a silly thing to ask because why would Rafe be mad at you? However, his rough treatment wasn’t like him. In fact, you couldn’t ever remember a time where Rafe had so much as touched you. The look he gave you was enough to curdle milk, and when he sighed, your shoulders drooped in relief.

“Nah,” he drawled, lips pressed together as his eyes met yours. “Who could be mad at you? That’d be like getting mad at a child.”

You blinked, but before you could ask him what he meant, he gruffly told you to find Sarah and stay out of trouble. You frowned a bit, still wiping at your dress as you slowly turned and did as he said. When you looked over your shoulder, Rafe was still watching you, and you guessed he wanted to make sure you found Sarah okay.

“…and…just what are you doing?”

You straightened a bit, pushing yourself to your knees as you looked up to find Rafe looking down at you. His face was pinched as he studied you, and you grinned at him, hands resting on your thighs.

“Hey, Rafe!” you suddenly remembered that he’d asked you something. “My phone fell under the couch.”

You gestured to the piece of furniture, and you were just about to bend over again when Rafe reached down to grab your arm, pulling you to your feet. You eyed him as he did the same to you before taking your place. You crossed your arms over your chest, watching him, and your confusion at his strange attitude disappeared when he reemerged with your phone. A delighted gasp left you as you reached for it, pausing when Rafe held it out of reach.

“You know, I think you’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached to your body.”

That was something your mom said often too. His eyes looked between yours, and you swallowed when he moved closer. His chest brushed against yours, and your heart raced.

“Thanks for getting it for me,” you finally said, reaching for it again to no avail.

Confusion filled you.

“If I give it to you, what will you give me?” he murmured, and you blinked, brows raising a bit.

“Well…what do you want?”

Rafe only rolled his eyes at that, chuckling before dropping your phone in your hand. You held it to you just as he moved, and you were startled by the feel of him reaching down and pulling on the end of your skirt, pulling it down some. You hadn’t even noticed that it had ridden up, and you looked at him with a smile, thanking him.

“Where’s Sarah?” he suddenly wondered, plopping down on the same couch you’d just been searching under.

“She said she was on her way, but I think she’s still with Topper.”

You watched Rafe’s blue gaze linger on your legs, and you looked down, fearful that you’d scratched yourself or something in your search for your phone. When you didn’t find anything, your eyes met Rafe’s when you looked up, and you watched the corner of his mouth curve upwards.

“You’re too nice, you know that?”

“Me?” you laughed. “I don’t think so. No nicer than anyone else.”

Rafe snorted at that, and you moved to sit down next to him as you waited for Sarah.

“If it wasn’t for Sarah, so many people on this island would eat you alive, you know.”

You didn’t understand what he meant by that, frowning, and that just seemed to amuse Rafe more. He didn’t elaborate either, opting to run his eyes over you instead, and when they landed on your skirt, he reached over to pull it down where it had ridden up some again. You softly thanked him, and he pointed at you at that, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek.

“That,” he said, shaking his head. “That is exactly what I’m talking about.”

You curiously eyed him as he stood just as you heard a vehicle in the yard.

“You shouldn’t be thanking me for something like that,” he told you with an unreadable smile. “I might take it the wrong way.”

You watched Rafe’s back as he made his way towards the stairs, only looking away when Sarah rushed in, repeatedly apologizing.

Rafe always said things like that to you, things you didn’t quite understand. To be fair, there were a lot of things you didn’t understand, but especially the things Rafe seemed to say. Why wouldn’t you thank him for making sure your skirt was pulled down? Why would he take that the wrong way? In what way?

When you’d brought it up to Sarah one day, she’d merely scoffed and called him a sick pervert before apologizing again for leaving you alone with him.

“He’s so…sleazy, sometimes, you know?”

You didn’t know, actually. Outside of his mood swings, Rafe was at least respectful to you. At least, you felt like he was, but Sarah talked about her brother like he was the scum of the earth or something. You watched her as she sprawled over her bed, eyes trained on the ceiling.

“One minute, I swear he can’t stand you and then the next it’s like he’s too into what you’re up to.”

You frowned at that, this being news to you, and Sarah seemed to realize what she said. She sighed, pushing herself onto her stomach, and your eyes met hers.

“Rafe doesn’t like me…?”

You weren’t surprised by how much it hurt to hear. Rafe was your best friend’s brother, after all, and while you two weren’t friends, you’d never been anything but nice to him. You always tried to offer him things and ask how he was and smile at him whenever you saw him.

“It’s not that he doesn’t like you,” she confessed, throwing you a sympathetic glance. “He just doesn’t think the best of you.”

You deflated some, frowning as you tried to remember if he’d ever said anything to you that you missed.

“It’s why I hate when he comes around when you’re around. He’s always being an asshole, but don’t take it too personal, okay? He’s an asshole to almost everyone.”

You’d heard that before, but still. You’d never done anything to Rafe, and hearing this made you a little sad because Sarah didn’t even say why he didn’t like you. You sat there, feeling stumped and second guessing everything. Rafe said funny things sometimes at how much pink you wore, or he’d shake his head when some jokes had to be explained to you, and he certainly seemed to get annoyed when he came downstairs to find you bending over in the fridge.

Sarah had assured you though that Rafe was just like that.

When you found yourself at another party, you did your best to stay out of his way. You didn’t want to upset him anymore than you already had, even though you didn’t know how you’d done it. You were with one of Topper’s friends that you’d seen in passing, giggling and struggling to stand with every second that passed. As you finished the last of your drink, he quickly poured you some more, and you pressed your hand to your mouth to keep from burping.

“Sarah’s going to have to carry me home,” you told him, your words coming out more jumbled together than you’d intended.

He laughed at you, an arm snaking around your waist to help you stand. You eyed his dark hair, smiling at how it contrasted with his light eyes.

“I can take you home whenever you’re ready,” he offered, and you felt yourself perk up.

“Really? Oh my God, thank you,” you sighed out. “I always feel so bad when Sarah has to look out for me.”

His pink lips pulled into a smile, and you returned it. It felt like his hand on your waist was the only thing keeping you up, and you leaned into him, feeling beyond grateful.

“You should probably finish your drink before we go though,” he suggested, and you nodded.

He was so nice to get you another, and you didn’t want it to go to waste. He helped you put one foot in front of the other as he led you across the beach and in between the bodies. You stumbled a few times, and you thanked him each time he kept you from falling flat on your face. You asked him how he knew Topper, and when he told you they went to school together, you smacked your forehead.

Almost everyone here went to what some people dubbed as Kook Academy.

“Duh,” you giggled, shaking your head.

You were just about to ask him which car was his when you were ripped away from him. Your eyes widened in shock, and you dropped what was left of your drink as you tripped over your feet. It took you a moment to realize what was going on, and when you glanced up, you smiled at the sight of Rafe. You’d been trying to avoid him for his sake, but you were always happy to see the blond.

“Hi, Rafe!”

He wasn’t looking at you, one hand on your arm and the other pushing against the chest of your new friend. You frowned in confusion as you took in the scene, realizing they didn’t look so friendly, and you noted this was the first time you’d seen Rafe really mad before.

“What the hell, bro?”

You watched Rafe shove him away, the other guy almost falling back.

“Are you crazy? You don’t think I know what you’re trying to do?”

You looked between them, and Rafe didn’t wait around for Topper’s friend to straighten himself up. You had no choice but to follow as he dragged you away, and his fast pace made your head spin even more. You asked him to slow down, but he ignored you, and you could feel your stomach turning. When he made it to the familiar black truck, he practically pushed you inside when he opened the passenger door, and with his hands on the vehicle, he had you trapped.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, his voice harsher than usual, and your brows knitted together. “Are you that stupid?”

You blinked at him, lips parting, and at that, Rafe slammed the door shut with a shake of his head. You stared at it for a few seconds, only sitting back and slowly putting on your seatbelt as he slid into the driver’s seat. The ride to your house was quiet, and you were reminded of what Sarah had told you. Why didn’t Rafe like you? What had you done now?

He was just as quiet when he made it to your house, and you noticed that your parents weren’t home. You struggled to get your door open, but it didn’t matter much when Rafe was suddenly there, yanking it open…and yanking you out too.

“Ow!”

He didn’t care to be careful, forcing you towards your door, and he snatched your purse before you could. You wrapped your arms around yourself, shuddering at the cool ocean breeze as you stood in your dress, the flowy skirt of it kissing your thighs. When Rafe finally got the door open, he all but shoved you inside, and this time, you did fall.

You whimpered in pain, sitting up to take off your shoes, rubbing your foot just as he slammed your door closed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he repeated, slower this time as he brought his hands up. “Huh?”

You were drunk and confused, blinking and desperately trying to understand why Rafe was so mad. You’d done your best to avoid him all night—these past few weeks, actually. You didn’t like making anyone mad, especially Rafe considering his relation to Sarah.

“You realize he was going to hurt you, right…?”

You laughed at that, throwing Rafe a frown.

“What? Topper’s friend? No, he-.”

“He what? He plowed you with alcohol—maybe a few drugs—and was just so eager to take you home?”

You hesitated, a frown forming.

“I mean…we were drinking just like everyone else was, and I feel bad when Sarah has to take me home,” you said, much quieter now.

Rafe let out a laugh at that, and you finally decided to try and push yourself to your feet. You stumbled when Rafe neared you, so close, and your eyes widened. Rafe was so close you could feel his body heat, and he gestured to you with both hands as he leaned in.

“He was going to rape you. Do you get that?”

You flinched, chest tightening as you shook your head.

“No, he wouldn’t do that…”

“…and how do you know? You just met him, tonight,” Rafe spat. “You don’t know shit about him!”

You blinked, and you could feel your eyes burning because Rafe was so mad, and you didn’t understand why. Topper’s friend had been nice to you all night, looking after you and getting you drinks and keeping you company. You had the hardest time believing Rafe’s words, and you shook your head.

“He was being nice,” you argued, but Rafe’s anger and harsh words had you doubting that, now.

“…because he wanted to fuck you, you-.”

He cut himself off, heavily exhaling, and he glanced away. You watched him as his eyes fell closed, a bitter chuckle escaping as he shook his head.

“Do you have any idea how crazy you drive me?”

You almost didn’t hear him, and when he turned his cold gaze back to you, you swallowed.

“Are you really that stupid?” he quietly wondered, tapping his temples. “Huh?”

You pressed your lips together, the sound of your heartbeat loud in your ears.

“I’m stretching myself thin here just to make sure all those guys you think are your friends don’t have you lying down in their backseat somewhere…”

“Rafe.”

“…but like the dumb broad that you are, you think they’re being nice and friendly and that they actually care about you outside of what’s under your tiny little dress!”

You looked away.

“Every day I find myself wondering how the fuck did you even graduate? How did you even make it this far on your own?”

You struggled to swallow, your gaze finding the floor.

His words had you shifting on your feet, heart sinking at the familiarity of them. You were never the smartest, you knew that. It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried in school, tried to understand things that came so naturally to other people. You remembered your tutors getting so fed up and frustrated, leaning against the hall and listening as they told your mom they didn’t see how you’d ever pass. You remembered enlisting classmates for help before they too gave up and just took pity on you by doing your work for you.

“Hey, it’s okay,” they would tell you with soft smiles. “You really tried, and that’s what really matters.”

You looked up when Rafe huffed again, tears in your eyes. You had no idea that Rafe thought those things too, and you reached up to wipe your eyes.

“I mean, you’re always parading around in this crap that barely covers your ass,” he sneered, gesturing to your dress. “Always smiling and giggling at everyone.”

You sniffed.

“None of those guys are ever laughing with you, they’re laughing at you.”

“Why are you saying this to me?” you whispered.

“…because someone needs to,” he threw back. “…because you’re too fucking dumb to look out for yourself.”

Rafe neared you, reaching out and clutching your dress, yanking you closer.

“Do you know what that guy would’ve done? Hmm?”

You shuddered when his other hand came up to clasp the back of your neck.

“He would’ve gotten you in his backseat, probably wouldn’t have even waited to get you home…”

“Stop,” you pleaded.

“He wouldn’t have listened to a single word you said, too busy trying to get your legs open and his pants off.”

His hold tightened, and you winced, a few tears skipping down your face as he walked forward. He forced you to stumble back.

“He would’ve fucked you even more stupid and-.”

He cut himself off as you hit his chest, lips trembling and desperately trying to keep yourself from crying. You couldn’t stop, and Rafe huffed, rubbing his hands over his head as he let you go. Rafe’s chest was heaving, and when his eyes met yours again, you couldn’t hold his gaze for long.

“You’re so pitiful, you know that?” he murmured, coming near you again. “Every time you open that mouth to say something stupid, I just want to shove my cock in it.”

Your eyes widened at his words, stumbling back when he gripped your roots, scalp stinging.

“…but that’s all you’ll be good for, huh,” he mused, his other hand circling your chin. “To be split open and filled up.”

You reached up, grabbing his wrist, but Rafe didn’t care, leaning in and nipping at your cheek.

“…and if it’s going to be someone, it might as well be me, right?” he breathed, brushing his lips over your trembling ones. “Those other assholes on this island don’t look out for you like I do.”

Rafe wasn’t giving you time to think, and before you could stop him, his mouth covered yours. Rafe deeply inhaled, tongue tasting the inside of your mouth, hand roaming over you, completely ignoring your own as you tried to stop him. He roughly pulled at your dress, and you heard the fabric rip, a noise of protest leaving you.

You thought that Rafe didn’t like you.

It was what Sarah said, and Rafe himself had called you dumb and stupid and every other thing you’d tried to pretend you weren’t. You didn’t always pick up on things, but would Topper’s friend really have hurt you? Rafe was smarter than you, so he would know, right? He’d seemed so sure of it, but as his hands squeezed your frame, you recalled his words.

Wasn’t Rafe doing the same thing?

You gasped when his teeth sank into your neck, and all your breath left you when your back met the floor. You mumbled his name, but Rafe didn’t seem to hear you, yanking your panties down your legs, his own pants partially undone. When his fingers found a home between your legs, you whimpered, jerking at the feel of them sinking into you. He groaned at the feel, and your nails pressed into his arm.

You felt like your brain was short-circuiting, eyes rolling as he thrust them into you, massaging your walls. Rafe hovered over you, his nose brushing yours, and your hands reached out to scrape at the carpet. Your chest arched when Rafe curved them, and he kissed you again, a deep moan leaving him as you clenched around him.

“Rafe, stop-.”

Your words were abruptly cut off when he pressed on your stomach, holding you down, and you trembled, body buzzing. When he pulled them out of you, you felt disappointment, no time to linger on it as the head of him pressed to you. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, and your stomach arched against his firm hand. Your mouth fell open at the stretch, toes curling, and Rafe made a shushing sound.

“You can take it,” he murmured. “Open your legs.”

He rested in between them on his knees, and his free hand was on your thigh, parting them further. A high pitched sigh left you as he filled you to the hilt, fitting snuggly and holding himself inside of you. The turn the night had taken made your head spin, along with the alcohol, and you threw your head back when Rafe’s hand traveled from your stomach, thumb pressing against you.

“You’re so fucking wet,” you heard him groan. “Dripping around me.”

He started to move, pulling out before swiftly pushing his cock back into you, making you squeeze your eyes shut.

“This is all you needed, huh? Someone to fuck your dumb little brains out.”

Your lashes fluttered, and Rafe was blurry through your tears, but as you blinked, he cleared up. He leaned in to press kisses to your face, hips snapping against yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin loud in the living room. You couldn’t focus on much besides Rafe’s cock in you, hands tight on you and holding you in place so he could fuck you like he wanted.

“You know how many times I wanted to bend you over? Wanted to stuff you full of my cock just so you’d shut up?”

You whimpered, hands grasping at his back and arms as he leaned over. His forehead was pressed to yours, one of your knees completely pushed back as he drove himself into you. He was hitting something in you that had your breath hitching with every thrust, and the earlier events of the night were in the very back of your mind.

When he sat up, pushing both of your knees towards your chest, you cried out. You could see his eyes focused on where he disappeared into you, sliding into you and watching the way you dripped around him. You could feel yourself squeezing him, greedily trying to suck him back in, and Rafe chuckled.

“Nothing to say? Too busy taking my cock?”

When you didn’t say anything, he laughed again.

“Hmm?”

You could only bite your lip, chest heaving, and when you looked up, Rafe’s gaze was on your breasts.

“Touch yourself,” he told you, satisfied when you did. “Make them hard for me.”

You were a moaning mess, a fire in your core as Rafe rutted into you. You could hear it, hear the wet sound of you squeezing him and every dip of Rafe’s cock. You softly moaned his name, and Rafe asked you to do it again. Feeling drunk in more ways than one, you did, gasping when he spread your legs again. His arms hooked under your knees, his chest brushing yours, now, and Rafe pressed his face into the crook of your neck.

“Any of those assholes even look at you for more than two seconds, and I’m showing them who you belong to,” he promised.

You could feel your stomach tightening, walls fluttering around him, and you could only lay down and take Rafe’s unrelenting cock.

“This pussy is mine, now,” he breathed. “No more leaving the house like you do without me.”

“Rafe,” you gasped, breath hitching. “I’m going to…”

You trailed off, losing your breath, and Rafe kissed the corner of your mouth.

“You’re gonna come? Yeah?”

You nodded, lips parted.

“So, I should probably keep going, huh?”

“Uh huh.”

“What if I just stopped?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“No,” you desperately argued. “Please-.”

“You wanna come?”

“Yes…please,” you moaned.

You could feel his eyes on your face as he lifted his head.

“Look at you,” he whispered. “So hungry for my cock. Can’t even keep your eyes open.”

You didn’t have the mind to argue with him, squeezing him and loving the way he stretched you out.

“This is right where you belong. Spread open and desperate for me,” he hummed, pressing open mouthed kisses to your neck. “My dumb baby girl, only good for milking me dry.”

He continued when all you could do was whimper.

“Isn’t that right?”

 At your silence, Rafe stopped, only the tip of him remaining. You tried to lift your hips, fucking yourself onto him, but from this position, with his arms keeping your knees bent back, you couldn’t. You whined, tears kissing your eyes as your chest heaved against his. You frantically nodded, another whiny moan escaping.

“Yes,” you breathlessly gave in. “Yes, yes.”

Rafe snapped his hips against yours again, smoothly thrusting into you, and you came around him with a cry. You couldn’t keep quiet, gasping and moaning as Rafe fucked you through your high. He held you in place, body trembling underneath him, and Rafe groaned when he started coming too, spilling into you. A light sheen of sweat coated both your frames, and you shuddered when he pulled out of you.

You felt completely worn out as he crawled over you, and his hand circled your chin, lifting it. The head of him pushed past your lips, and he groaned when he softly told you to clean him up. His eyes met yours as you looked up at him, lips wrapped around him as he reached down to brush the dampness from your cheek.

“Do a good job, and I might clean you up too.”