#there was a very brief meeting after this but not much happened

[ambrosiagourmet]

I want to talk about why I think this is the one of the most important Falin panels:

So, Falin is really nice, right? It's one of the first things we really learn about her. She's kind even to the monsters of the dungeon - choosing to ward the party rather than fight spirits and cause them needless harm.

In the above early flashback in chapter 11, we see Marcille fawning over Falin's kindness, calling her an angel. Namari calls her soft-hearted. We see Falin choose not to fight even when a zombie attacks - instead she resolves the confrontation with a hug. After the flashback, the first thing Senshi says is that Falin "sounds like quite the person," which Marcille strongly affirms.

At this point in the story, all we have seen of Falin are these impressions; she is a healer, an angel, a caretaker with an infinite well of kindness towards everyone she meets - both friend and foe.

And honestly, that remains most of what we have to go by to understand her. The only times we get to see Falin on the page, alive and just herself, are in the opening and closing pages of the story and in the brief period of time after she is resurrected.

Nonetheless, we do have some more details to work with. For one, there is the scene that The Panel is from - a short memory in chapter 75, when Marcille flashes back to while she's dying. In that scene, Falin prepares to teleport them all out, and says that she's sorry "if there is a person at [their] destination." And that's when we get The Panel.

If you teleport someone or something into another person, the person teleported into is likely to be, at minimum, severely injured. They could die.

We can see a lovely little horrifying example of exactly why in one of the Daydream Hour doodles:

So, hmm. That's not... that's not SUPER nice. Certainly not displaying the same "kindness to all, friend and foe included" we saw represented earlier. On a basic level, this adds some nuance to Falin's kindness. We see it break a little, when pushed to the limit. We see her chose to protect the people she loves above all else.

Which makes sense! As Laios says when the Winged Lion accuses him of similarly being motivated more by his friends' safety than everyone else in the dungeon, "...most people, aside from virtuous do-gooders, would feel the same way."

So, we can take The Panel as simply showing a moment of weakness for Falin. A time when she was pushed to her limits, and that "most people" selfish side of her shone through.

However... I think there's a little more going on with Falin than just her being an angel 99% of the time, except just that once. I love The Panel because I think it helps us understand that Falin isn't just motivated by kindness - she also has a desire to avoid seeing people in pain.

Isn't that the same thing?

No, no it very much is not.

Let's look at a short comic from the Falin section of the Adventurer's Bible, because I think it illustrates this point perfectly. The group is complaining about how much Marcille's healing hurts, and comparing it to Falin's, which "doesn't hurt a bit." Marcille retorts with the following:

Now, the punchline of this comic is that, despite Marcille's sentimental assertion that she's "thinking of [them]" by letting her healing magic hurt, they all still prefer to be healed by Falin.

But hey, this wouldn't be the first time that Dungeon Meshi hides a very real character beat or insight in a gag, so let's think about this somewhat seriously.

If Marcille is right (and she knows a fair bit about magic, so we can assume that she has at least somewhat of a point), then what Falin is doing isn't kind. I suppose if someone specifically requested to not feel the pain, it could be kind, but that's not really what happened here. She is the one who felt badly about the others being in pain, and she is the one who decided, without telling them or giving them a choice in the matter, to take away that pain.

Both Marcille and Falin are healing the party, but Marcille is doing it in a way that accomplishes the task in the most straight forward way, without any additional interference. Falin is going out of her way to perform the healing in a way she is more comfortable with. A way that avoids pain.

Going back the The Panel, I don't think its a coincidence that the only time we see Falin (well, non-chimera Falin) willing to do something that could hurt someone is when any potential pain will be far away from her. If she got someone hurt or killed by teleporting the party to the surface? Not only would it be far out of her sight, but she'd be dead before she had to deal with any consequences of that action.

Falin is not a confrontational person. She doesn't push when Marcille won't tell her the truth about the resurrection, and she comforts Laios about her own death - both of those things happening in the only full chapter she is alive and conscious in the whole story.

We also know that she considered accepting Shuro's proposal, despite not having any special feelings towards him, and that Falin never explained to Marcille that she wanted them to share a meal together. When she brought Marcille various foods at the academy, she just accepted Marcille's confused rejection and gave up.

And lastly, we know that she is still in contact with her parents, despite the neglect and abuse she suffered at their hands. Although the way someone chooses to handle contact with abusive or bad family is a complicated topic, which I don't want to overly simplify, I do I think this fact gets at the heart of how she handles conflict.

So many people that Falin loves have hurt her. There are understandable hurts, like Laios leaving the village, or Marcille not understanding the food. And there are bigger, far less justifiable hurts - like her parents neglecting her throughout her childhood, and sending her away to be alone at the magic academy.

It doesn't seem like Falin has ever confronted any of it directly.

And the unhealthy aspects of this kind of avoidance of pain and confrontation is one of the things that the story of Dungeon Meshi is all about. We see Laios grapple with it before he goes to kill Falin, and we see Marcille acknowledge it at the end of the story, when she tells Laios that she has come to terms with Falin's death:

Eating is a part of life. Consuming other living things is a part of life. It isn't really possible to avoid that pain - you can only hide from the truth of it. You have to be selfish everyday. You have to eat - to choose to live. To choose to take up space.

And this is something Falin embraces, too. She comes back to life, after all.

We see her choose to come back to life.

And how does she make that choice? She eats. She consumes, and then she is asked a question by the manifestation of hunger itself:

Do you want to eat more?

There is a double meaning in the Winged Lion's final words on the next page.

When I first read this, I took it as him saying: life is cruel. You will suffer. You will feel more pain.

But perhaps, especially for Falin, this also means: you are choosing a path where you must cause pain. Where you must consume. Where you must take, and must be selfish. Because eating is the special privilege of the living, and it is their burden, too. In order to stay alive, she will need to keep eating.

And she chooses that. Chooses to be selfish. It's why her resurrection scene is so important, and it's why The Panel is so important. Because Falin coming back isn't the ultimate reward for all of the party's hard work.

It's her choice. Just like it was her choice that started everything in the first place. But this time, she doesn't choose to accept causing pain for the sake of Marcille and Laios. She does it for her own sake.

[monstersholygrail]

very classic but summoning a demon to fuck you and he gets a little obsessed 🙏

Imagine Himbo Demon was one day just casually going about his business, torturing a mortal with the agonizing act of small talk when suddenly a flash of white explodes across his vision. The next thing he knows he’s standing in a magical circle of your own design and he can’t get out.

You ask if he’s an incubus and that’s when he notices the book in your hand, ‘How to Summon Incubi With Your Friends: The Party Guide.’ He also looks you over and notices how painstakingly pretty you are and thinks… he could be an incubus.

That night he has what he claims as the best sex of his eternal life, no doubt about it. The way your body moved as you rode him within an inch of his life made him swear he was being taken back to heaven. The way you tasted sweeter than the finest nectar till it burned permanently into his senses. Every last bit of you was addicting.

When the summoning spell’s time was coming to a close, the demon actually felt an ache at the idea of leaving you and your sweet, sweet holes. He tried to reach for you once more but with a flash of white he was back in hell. His heart and his cock aching for you.

The minute he can he’s scouring hell’s library for the book he saw in your grasp. He reads it like a man possessed, ironically, looking for the spell you must’ve used.

As he’s reading the book, an Incubus just so happens to look over at him. Sensing eyes on him he looks up and their gazes meet. The Incubus reads the cover of the book he has and his eyes widen. He begins slowly inching away from Himbo Demon before turning and quickly rushing off.

Himbo Demon tilts his head, curious as to why the Incubus gave such a reaction. But after a moment of brief confusion, he goes back to reading the book. His eyes brightening as he finds the spell.

That night he clumsily performs the spell. His mind foggy with lust. His cock red, angry, and dripping with precum as he thinks about drowning in your holes, lapping up your essence like it’s the only food he’ll ever need and then fucking you until you’re raw and swollen, only to soothe any pain with his tongue.

Himbo demon growls, reaching down and lazily stroking his cock with one hand and performing the spell with the other. Somehow by a true miracle, it works. He appears back in the same fading circle he appeared in last time. His eyes ignite with feral need and his gaze flickers around the low-lit room before a door opens and you come waltzing in wearing nothing but a towel.

“Miss me, baby?” He snarls in excitement, knowing now he has a way to keep coming back to you.

You yelp, jerking back against the wall in surprise. Not expecting the demon to be here again but you’re not exactly upset about it either. Himbo Demon smiles wickedly, but in truth he’s just so happy to see you! He moves at the speed of lightning and he’s on you in an instant. His tall lithe body caging you in against the wall. You exhale shakily, your body tingling with need and your belly churning with arousal as you glance down at his fat cock bobbing and dribbling with his own arousal.

The scent of you floods Himbo Demon’s senses and he growls, fangs flashing in the moonlight that peaks in from the window. Feeling beyond thrilled that the spell worked. That he can go to you whenever he feels like it now. So long as you keep the summoning circle up, that is. But he’s too focused on your new easy access to even try and realize that.

“Don’t worry, sweet human. I’ve found my way back to you and your glorious body. From now on we shall never be parted and I can properly fuck your weak mortal shell ragged as much as I desire. And there is much… much desire,” Himbo Demon rasps heatedly, looking down at you with a fire in his eyes.

Before you can even think to respond, the demon is shredding your towel into two, revealing your body to him in all its glory. He barely takes the time to appreciate the view and suddenly he’s pressing into, rubbing his length along the height of your belly.

And you know this is the start of a wild adventure. One you’re sure is bound to last more than another night.

[infictionalwonderland]

The BAU team meeting Hotch’s younger gf who looks like she walked off the front cover of a magazine & she’s so bubbly and has a really comforting energy! How would they react????

The satisfying little clicks of heels against the marble floor wasn’t enough to gain any of their attention usually, but accompanied by the delicately enchanting chimes of true laughter and sweet smell of baked goods—eyes were immediately lifting to investigate to the scene.

“Thank you so much!” An incredibly sweet, honeyed voice gushed genuinely, “here, all of these are meant for my boyfriend but I’m sure he won’t even notice.”

The team traded immensely interested looks as they surveyed the scene, Anderson (who was uncharacteristically blushing a bright flustered cherry red) was being handed a chocolate chip muffin by—wow—a startlingly gorgeous young women who was dressed in inviting soft colours and had a large sweet smile on her face that served to emphasise her lovely appearance.

“My day just got a hundred times better.” Derek grinned, swivelling his chair sideways to speak to the rest of his team while barely taking his eyes off you.

“You’re telling me.” Emily’s mouth hung open a little as she leaned forwards on her elbows to look at you more closely.

“Behave.” JJ scolded before her brief look of reprimand melted under Emily’s pointed stare, “she’s looks so sweet I just wanna eat her.”

“She has a boyfriend.” Spencer reminded them.

“What—?”

“Pretty boy—you and—“

“Oh—oh, no!” Spencer flustered, sputtering out the gulp of his coffee he had in his mouth (JJ handed him a napkin with a mothers readiness). “Not—I would be absolutely honoured—and—and, for lack of a sensical phrase, over the moon, to have a romantic relationship with a woman such as her but—no, unfortunately. She—she said a few moments ago that has a boyfriend.”

“Ah.” Emily blinked, a slow almost sheepish smirk on his lips, “I wasn’t really listening to what she was saying, just watching her lips move.”

“Preach sister.” Derek leaned forward for a fist-bump which Emily easily gave, both of them nodding in solidarity.

“Hello!” They all startled heavily as your gentle, happy voice chimed now much closer to them and mouths dropped subtly at just how beautiful you looked up close.

“Well hello sweetheart.”

“H-hi.”

“Hi gorgeous.”

“Hello!”

You blinked at them, an adorable giggle leaving you at the onslaught of greetings that came all at once. “Hi! You wouldn’t happen to know where Aaron Hotchner’s office is would you?”

“Hotch?” Emily furrowed her brows at you curiously and then seemed to forgot about, well, any of anything she was thinking as your bubbly smile and sparkling eyes turned her way and you gave a cheerful ‘yep!’ “Um—just, up those stairs, the first door at the top.”

“Thank you very much.” You told her, voice as sweet as the packet of fizzy haribos hidden in her desk. “It was lovely meeting you all, we’ll probably be better acquainted later on.”

With a sparkly mischievous twinkle in your bright eyes and another adorable giggle, you took off in a small spin that sent the enchanting mix of your perfume and the baked goods wafting over to all of them and they all watched, entranced, as you climbed the steps to their boss’ office.

After several seconds of dazed silence, Spencer gasped.

“Boyfriend—“

“Yeah I wouldn’t mind being her boyfriend either.” Derek murmured. “At all—really, no sweat off my back.”

“Hotch.”

JJ’s mouth dropped open as she realised where Spencer was going with his train of thought, rolling back in her chair as they pointed at him in realisation.

“Oh my God!”

“Hotch—hotch, is her boyfriend..?” Spencer sounded extremely confused, mouth falling open and closing repeatedly.

“Huh?”

“Reid, you are having a giggle.”

“No, he’s right.” JJ confirmed, mouth open and eyebrows raised. “She said she was here to see her boyfriend and she’s gone to see Hotch. . 2 plus 2 equals. .”

“. . An incredibly brokenhearted Derek Morgan.” Derek’s own mouth dropped open, craning his neck to see what was going on in the office of his boss before realising that Hotch had shut the blinds. Derek gasped, that sneak.

“And a flummoxed Emily Prentiss.”

“But she’s so—“

“Yeah.”

“And he’s like—“

“Literally!”

“Well, the last few months Hotch has been incredibly more relaxed, in fact his percentage of smiles given has gone up from a measly 30% to almost 84%, his laugh quota has reached high yet levels than I’ve ever known it to be. I had also noted that every Thursday he never goes home as late as he usually retires for the day and with this new revelation of a relationship—I assume this correlates to their date nights.”

“It does.”

Everyone turned in their chairs quickly to face their boss who now stood outside his office a faintly amused smile curving up his lips, at his side was you and you were wearing an amused and loving smile, eyes practically sparkling after Spencer’s speech on your boyfriend’s behaviour as they flickered up to said boyfriend beside you who looked down at you with soft, fond eyes.

“So you figured out my secret.” You grinned at them all, taking in Spencer’s red cheeks and Emily’s flabbergasted, dazed stare. “I’m Y/N, Aaron’s girlfriend!”

“Doesn’t that just crush a man’s hopes and dreams.” Derek pouted quietly to himself, straightening up in alarm when his boss’ intense eyes zeroed in on him.

“Honey, this is JJ—“ The blonde gave a warm, welcoming smile and a wave, “Spencer,” said genius gave a tight lipped awkward smile, hands flailing awkwardly and cheeks a burning fiery red, feeling this pulse thump when they smiled back directly at him, “Emily and Derek.” Both of the aforementioned gave waves with half flirty-ish smirks and half genuine smiles.

The door to Rossi’s office opened and when he stepped out and saw you beside Aaron he smiled happily, walking towards you both.

“Ah, Y/N!” He took you into an embrace, kissing both of your cheeks. “You get more beautiful every time I see you, is this big brute treating you right?”

“Always, Dave.”

He patted you on the shoulders, smiling, before turning to Aaron who was rolling his eyes at him fondly.

“Let’s keep it that way.”

“Rossi!” Emily’s astounded voice exclaimed, “you—know Y/N—you knew about this—“

It was Dave’s turn to roll his eyes as he continued walking to descend down the stairs, tutting at her disappointedly.

“You thought I wouldn’t?” He countered, “who do you think encouraged him to go for it?”

You laughed at that and your boyfriend smiled down at you fondly, looping an arm around your waist—seemingly forgetting he was in his place of work and needed to keep up the facade of stone cold, emotionless boss.

“What—Rossi—get back here—“ Derek leaped up from his seat and trailed after the older man.

“What, you gonna come watch me take a leak?”

“If it means we get some answers!”

“Shoo parassita.”

All you could do was laugh again, smiling up at your boyfriend as his arm tightened around your waist and he pulled you closer into his side. You were very happy with your decision to come and deliver baked goods to him.

[sleepyhoon]

THREE WEEKS & THREE DAYS - P.SH

pairing. best friend's ex!sunghoon x reader

genre. best friend's ex au, halloween au, smut, angst (if you squint).

word count. 12.2k+

warnings. alcohol consumption, drug usage, partying, driving under the influence, toxic relationships, themes of divorce, brief mention of physical abuse, smut [car sex, use of handcuffs, oral, praise kink/dirty talk, creampie]

summary. a stressful night at a Halloween party has you seeking comfort from the last person you should be involved with — your best friend's ex.

a/n. HIGHLY HIGHLY inspired by season 2 episode 1 of euphoria! this is a work of pure fiction and is NOT a reflection of how i view the members. despite writing this story, i DO NOT condone the dangerous choices the characters in this fic make and DO NOT encourage others to do so! read at your own discretion.  also, very special thanks to @zreamy for beta-reading this for me!!

When you were six, you spent Halloween night lying on a hospital bed dressed as Hannah Montana.

Everything happened so fast; one moment, you were trick-or-treating with your father and younger sister while scarfing down a Snickers bar for the first time (a king-sized one at that), and the next, your dad was rushing you to the hospital in a panic, tears in his eyes as he encouraged you to stay awake in the backseat.

By the time you’d arrived at the hospital, your body had gone completely limp, and your father struggled to carry both you and your younger sister into the hospital lobby. From what you can remember, it was like a scene from a movie: seeing your dad cry for the first time, being wheeled into an unfamiliar bright room on a mobile bed, all while dressed as your favorite popstar.

The scariest part of the night was shortly after arriving at the hospital and catching a glimpse of your reflection, not recognizing the person staring back at you. The blonde wig and blue eye contacts were to be expected, but the swollen face and half-lidded eyes were another. Had you been able to breathe (let alone talk), you likely would’ve given your sister a classic Halloween jumpscare.

Your mother had arrived only a few minutes after you did, yelling at your father loud enough to have the hospital staff threaten to kick her out. “You forgot she was allergic to peanuts?! Where was her fucking EpiPen?!”

Your dad sighed, running a hand across his face, “I forgot to pick it up. I’ve been busy with…you know.”

She scoffs, “You don’t think I’ve been busy too?! Especially now that we have to meet with the divorce lawyer once a week?!”

Your ears perk up at that, “Divorce?”

You hadn’t known much about the true meaning of divorce, except that it’s something your friend’s parents had gone through, and now he gets two of everything. Two birthdays, two Christmases, two lives. So simple yet so perfect, what child wouldn’t dream of that?

Your parents, who hadn’t even known you were awake, silence themselves immediately. Tears quickly form in your mother’s eyes as she realizes they’d been caught, trying their best to keep the news of their divorce as quiet as possible, waiting for the right moment to explain to you and your sister, Yuna, the real meaning of it, and how different your lives would be.

It dawns on them that there’s no point trying to keep this secret any longer. You were a smart kid, it was probably only a matter of time before you found out on your own, anyway. 

All in one night, you managed to survive a near-death experience, only to be followed by the news of your parents’ divorce. And somehow, at twenty-three years old, watching Lee Heeseung flirt with random girls at a Halloween party is much worse than everything you experienced that cursed night in 2007.

“Can you at least pretend that you’re having a good time?!” You can barely hear Minjeong over how loud the music is, her words fading in and out as you take a sip from your cup.

“I am having a good time, isn’t it obvious?” you reply, showing Minjeong your best fake smile.

Grinning, Minjeong shakes her head at you. “Not at all. Here, need a refill?”

Without waiting for your response, Minjeong hops off the kitchen counter and snatches the red solo cup in your hand. You don’t bother protesting, sighing as you rest your weight against the marble countertop, while she adds a mix of different ingredients to your cup.

When she’s not looking, you tilt your head in the direction of the living room, hoping to get a glance at Heeseung through the sea of drunken college students.

The only word that can be used to describe your relationship with Heeseung is ‘unfortunate’. You were together for six months, and spent most of the time fighting, making up, and having sex. It was a relentless, tiresome cycle you allowed yourself to succumb to just for the sake of not having to be alone.

Most of the arguments would start with you questioning Heeseung’s loyalty, growing suspicious upon seeing his username pop up in the likes section of random girls on social media. In hindsight, it seems like a silly thing to get upset over. The entire purpose of social media was to connect and interact with others anyway, but, why was it always girls? And why would these girls suddenly start watching your stories?

Breaking up with him was harder than you could’ve imagined, and you’re sure you wouldn’t have been able to do it without Minjeong by your side, encouraging you through the entire process. 

The aftermath was embarrassingly excruciating. For two weeks, you locked yourself in your bedroom and fell into a cycle of sleeping and crying, occasionally taking breaks to eat or use the restroom. At one point, your phone spent a full forty-eight hours without being turned on at all, causing your loved ones to panic upon not being able to get ahold of you.

Slowly but surely you managed to build yourself back up, finally starting to feel like your old self when Heeseung suggested the two of you get back together.

You were hesitant, of course, telling Heeseung you were willing to work things out if he can prove to you he’s changed and ready to be the loyal, doting boyfriend he should’ve been from the start.

So no, you’re not together. But you’re also not not together. It’s confusing.

A football player is blocking your view of Heeseung (dressed as a cowboy), you have to stand on your tip-toes to catch a glimpse of him talking to — wait, who is that?

“Patrick would not stand for this.” Minjeong interrupts your thoughts, poking fun at your costume choice of a female Patrick Bateman.

You shrug, pretending to act clueless. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

Minjeong rolls her eyes, shoving your cup back into your hand “Sure, you weren’t. Come on, cheers with me.”

“To what?” you ask, suspiciously eyeing the drink she’s just handed you. Minjeong isn’t that great of a cook, so you can imagine she’s not the best bartender either. In fact, it’d be best if she stayed far away from any sort of kitchen appliance.

She thinks for a moment then excitedly extends her cup out to you. “To getting over our shitty ex-boyfriends!”

Minjeong’s ex was Park Sunghoon, they dated on and off for a year and a half before calling it quits over the summer. You don’t remember the exact reason why they broke up, there were many different factors. It didn’t matter, they were bad for each other anyway and the relationship was entirely too toxic for either of their wellbeing. 

You don’t know much about Sunghoon aside from the things Minjeong felt comfortable enough to share with you and the fact that he is on the university’s hockey team with Heeseung. You’ve probably had a handful of conversations and interactions with Sunghoon in the entire time of knowing him, and are more than happy with things staying that way.

Holding your cup up high, you match Minjeong’s smile and tap your cup against hers. “To getting over our ex-boyfriends!”

The drink is disgusting. You quickly turn away so you don’t hurt your best friend’s feelings by gagging at the taste. She manages to down her entire cup while you make quick work of pouring a majority of yours down the sink behind you.

Minjeong stares down at her empty cup with wide eyes, licking the remains off her plump lips. “Holy shit, that was so good. Do you want more? I’m gonna make myself another cup.”

“I’m good for now, thanks,” you say, snatching your cup away when she reaches for it. Minjeong raises a brow at you, and you follow up with, “I should wait before having another drink.”

She nods understandingly, and you give yourself a mental pat on the back for coming up with that so quickly.

While she’s occupied with making another drink, your eyes trail back over towards Heeseung. The football player from earlier is gone, and now that your view is no longer obstructed, you watch in confusion as Heeseung now has this mystery girl by the waist, leaning his head down close to her lips as she whispers something in his ear.

This really is worse than Halloween 2007.

“Hey.” You tap Minjeong’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

She follows your line of sight, scowling when it lands on Heeseung. “YN, don’t make a big deal out of this. You guys technically aren’t even together.”

“Relax, I’m just going to say hi.” You assure her, moving to head towards Heeseung when Minjeong stops you with a hand on your chest. “Think about this, please.”

You sigh, using your free hand to clutch hers and slowly bring it down from your chest. “I’ll be fine. Be back soon so we can dance, okay?”

Minjeong knows she won’t be able to stop you once your mind is made up, all she can do is sigh and wish you the best as you make a beeline for your ex. Maybe not the greatest idea on your part, but you’re too tipsy to think rationally.

Heeseung doesn’t notice you when you first approach, it takes the mystery girl awkwardly gesturing in your direction for him to finally look over at you, immediately dropping his hand from the girl’s waist. “YN!” He shouts, a little too excitedly, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

A few minutes later, you find yourself in an unfamiliar bedroom with Heeseung on step one of your toxic cycle — arguing.

“You’re overreacting,” Heeseung claims. “We were just talking.”

“About what, Heeseung? Why did you have to hold her by the fucking waist to talk to her?”

“Because! She was drunk! I was holding her up so she wouldn’t fall and hurt herself!”

“Who gives a shit if she falls? She’s not your fucking girlfriend.”

“Yeah, well, neither are you.” 

His words shouldn’t hurt as much as they do because he’s right; despite trying to work on things, you aren’t his girlfriend. You were the one who said you weren’t ready to get back together, not him. You shouldn’t be upset with him for talking to other girls.

And yet, here you are with tears in your eyes. 

You nod silently, avoiding his gaze as a lump forms in your throat. 

Heeseung must realize how much his words have affected you if the way he curses at himself, and shamefully runs a hand across his face is anything to go by. “Listen, I’m sor-”

“Don’t bother.” You stand from the bed, holding back a sob.“Everything about this was a mistake. You’ll never change.”

Heeseung reaches a hand out to grab your arm as you push past him. “YN, I didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, Heeseung, you did mean it,” you say, pulling the bedroom door open.

There is no point in trying to reason with Heeseung. You know in a matter of time he’ll apologize, you’ll accept it like you always do, have make-up sex, then lecture him about how important it is that he changes before you can consider getting back together. Another endless cycle you’ve fallen into.

Stepping back into the party, you head in the opposite direction of where Minjeong would be, not wanting to run into her in your current state and bump right into someone dressed as Spiderman, causing the little remains of your drink to spill over and knock to the ground. You’re grateful that a crucial part of Patrick Bateman’s costume involved a plastic raincoat, or else your outfit would have suffered a dark blue stain.

“Oh my God, YN! I’m so sorry!” Spider-Man apologizes with a thick Australian accent.

“Jake?” You question, gesturing for him to take the mask off.

He follows your command, face bright red from embarrassment or alcohol. Probably both.

“Yeah, haha, hey. Really sorry about that, I can get you a new drink.” Jake turns in the direction of the kitchen before you stop him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s fine, Jake. Do you know where the bathroom is?”

Jake thinks for a moment, scratching at the small amount of stubble that’s graced his chin. He really does make a perfect Spider-Man, and if you weren’t so upset, you probably would’ve stayed and told him that.

“Upstairs, all the way down the hall. Wait! It’s occupied, people are doing coke in there, I think.”

Great.

You sigh. “Do you know if there’s another one I can use?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s one.” Jake turns, pointing to a door at the end of the hallway. “Right there. I saw a few people come in and out.”

Thanking Jake, you follow his direction and head to the door at the end of the hallway.

It’s a garage, not a bathroom. But, as long as you get a moment alone, you don’t really care where you are.

After shutting the door behind you, you sit on top of a washing machine and flinch at the cold metal sending chills down your thighs.

You shouldn’t have come out tonight, you don’t even care about Halloween to begin with. It’s an overrated holiday, you wish you would’ve convinced Minjeong to stay in with you and have a classic horror movie marathon while eating takeout and pausing to hand out (peanut-free) candy to trick-or-treaters.

Though, you’re sure you still would’ve spent the better half of the night obsessively tapping through Heeseung’s Instagram stories or trying to spot him in the background of someone else’s. It was a lose-lose situation no matter what, and you find yourself wondering if there’s an end to this unhealthy cycle.

Despite being so young when it happened, you’re sure your parents’ divorce obstructed your view of love and how a healthy adult relationship should work. Your father went on to have short-lived relationships with younger women who were using him for his money, while your mother remained single and chose to criticize her ex-husband’s current lifestyle choices. They couldn’t even co-parent in peace, always making petty comments to the other during drop-offs and pick-ups, finding any and every little thing to start arguing about.

One time in particular, after spending the weekend at your father’s house, your mother slapped him in a Dairy Queen parking lot upon realizing his new girlfriend had taken you and your sister to get your ears pierced. You didn’t actually see the slap happen, but it was loud enough to echo through the empty parking lot and hard enough to leave a red mark on his face.

The memory has tears forming in your eyes for the umpteenth time tonight, but before any of them have the chance to trickle down, the garage door swings open.

You turn, and Park Sunghoon (dressed as a police officer) is staring back at you with a confused look on his face. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before pointing in the direction of the party. “Uh, Jake said this was the bathroom.”

Shaking your head, you offer him a small smile. “No, the bathroom’s upstairs but it’s being used. If you really have to go, I’m pretty sure that door leads to the backyard.” You nod your head in the direction of the other door, and Sunghoon picks up on what you’re implying.

He thanks you before jogging over to the exit, setting his cup down on a metal dog crate before turning the knob and pushing open the door.

Sunghoon stands far enough out of frame that you only see a portion of his backside, and once the sound of him pissing on the grass hits your ears, you wonder why he didn’t bother to close the door in the first place.

Men.

He clears his throat awkwardly, “So, you s–”

You cut him off. “Let’s just wait until you’re done, please.”

Sunghoon nods, mumbling, “Right, right.”

He finishes up a few seconds later, zipping his pants back up and properly adjusting himself before returning to the garage, closing the door behind him and picking his drink back up in the process. “So, I’m guessing you’re…upset because of Heeseung?”

You let out a sad chuckle that sounds more like a sob. “Lucky guess. He’s just so fucking confusing, I can’t take it.”

“You’ll be alright,” Sunghoon responds, slipping his phone from his pants pocket and unlocking it. “Heeseung’s a douchebag.”

This catches you off guard, and you’re laughing before you even realize it. “Isn’t he your friend?”

Sunghoon shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at his phone as he scrolls. “Not really. We don’t talk much if it isn’t related to hockey or school.”

A beat of silence passes, then you ask, “When Heeseung and I were together, did he mention anything about cheating on me? Or talking to other girls?”

Sunghoon glances up at you for a split second, taking in how sad and hopeful you look before returning his gaze to the weather app he’d been using to distract himself.

He wasn’t sure if Heeseung went as far as physically cheating on you, but he was definitely talking to other girls behind your back; proudly showing the hockey team countless nudes and vulgar photos they would send him, some of them coming from your own friends. 

Sunghoon can’t tell you this, you’re upset enough as it is.

“I wouldn’t know, I always tuned him out whenever he talked.”

Though he’s not sure what answer you were hoping for, Sunghoon can tell you’re a little disappointed by his response. Truthfully, he didn’t feel like getting involved in anyone else’s drama. If you wanted clarity from Heeseung, you should’ve gone straight to the source.

“Sorry,” you apologize, feeling slightly embarrassed that you probably made things awkward, “have you seen Minjeong?”

Your attempt to change the subject seems to work, because Sunghoon scoffs loudly at your question and shoves his phone back in his pocket. “Have I seen the girl that just spent ten minutes yelling at me? Yeah, we may have crossed paths.” He says sarcastically, shaking his head before taking a sip of his drink.

“Yell at you? For what?”

“She fuckin’…I guess before we broke up she said I should dress up as a cop for Halloween and I must’ve said no, and now she’s saying I only dressed up like this,” he gestures towards himself, “to spite her. Fuckin’ insanity.”

“Well, did you?” You can’t help but ask, Minjeong would always go on for hours about how spiteful of a person Sunghoon was.

He shrugs, mindlessly tracing the rim of the red solo cup with his pointer finger, “Maybe, but this is all that was left in my size at the party store.”

You’re surprised Sunghoon makes you laugh as much as he does, and maybe that’s a bad thing since it’s making you enjoy talking to him. Though he technically isn’t your enemy, he’s definitely not a person you should enjoy having a conversation with. It’s not appropriate, he’s the ex boyfriend of your best friend; all your ties to him were cut the moment Minjeong broke up with him.

You should tell him to leave, that you’re really upset over Heeseung and prefer to be alone, but you don’t. Instead, you keep the conversation going, laughing every joke he makes and completely forgetting why you were upset to begin with.

Halfway through telling Sunghoon about the horrid drink Minjeong had prepared for you, your legs grow numb from having been sat on for so long. You untuck them from underneath your body, not thinking much of it as you continue on with the story, legs dangling against the cold washing machine.

Sunghoon takes notice, though, his eyes quickly darting down to the space between your legs and the white fabric that’s suddenly visible to him due to the short length of your skirt. You miss it the first time he does it, but the second and third time are hard to ignore, especially now that he doesn’t seem to mind being caught.

You really should cross your legs or call him out on his staring. Or maybe even get up and leave entirely.

To no one’s surprise you don’t do either of those things and opt to keep your panties visible enough for Sunghoon to see while you continue to talk his ear off about his ex-girlfriend. There’s something unspoken happening between the two of you, and it’s exciting yet confusing since this is the longest conversation you’ve had with him in the two years you’ve known each other. 

The strangest part of it all is that you’re just now realizing how attractive Sunghoon is, Sure, he’d always been a good looking guy, but you’d always seen him as Minjeong’s property and never paid much attention to his face out of respect for her.

But Minjeong no longer has a claim on him, and now you really notice the perfectly placed moles that graced the side of his nose and under his eye. He really was a sight to behold, you often find yourself stumbling over your words as you speak to him, becoming flustered over the intensity of the eye contact he’d been making with you.

“…my throat is still burning and it’s been, like, twenty minutes.” You say with a laugh, watching as Sunghoon finishes off his own drink.

He sets the empty cup down, licking the remaining alcohol on his lips before smacking them, “Yeah, I wouldn’t trust her in a kitchen. I’m not that good either, though. There was this one time I had to make brownies for our hockey team’s bake sale and they turned out awful. It’s like, half of them were watery and the other half were burnt. So weird.”

“That doesn’t even sound possible.”

“I’m serious! Hold on, I probably have a picture.” 

It takes Sunghoon approximately forty-five seconds of scrolling through his Snapchat memories to find a photo of those godforsaken brownies, and sure enough, they really are a watery, burnt mess. Not that you can even focus on the picture to begin with now that he’s sitting next to you on the washing machine, and you’re finally able to see him up close.

Sunghoon’s words go in one ear and out the other, because now you’re close enough to smell the cologne he’s dabbed on the back of his neck, and notice the metal handcuffs hooked in his belt loop, and it makes it hard to focus on anything else. Especially his uninteresting story about those stupid fucking brownies.

When Sunghoon locks his phone, you take it as a sign that he’s finished with his story and let out another laugh, “Not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he jokes, slightly slurring his words. 

Maybe it’s the fact that his voice sounds deeper than usual, or that he’s staring right at you with half lidded eyes, or that he's started playing with the handcuffs on his waist, but Sunghoon looks dangerously attractive right now. 

You gulp, looking down at your lap, “Well, at least one of us had a nice drink.”

Sunghoon nods, running his fingernails along your plastic raincoat, “Wanna taste mine?” He asks, eyes darting down to your lips for a split second.

If there was ever a time to get up and leave, it should’ve been now. The rational part of your brain is telling you to push Sunghoon away and return to the party and forget this encounter with him ever happened. But you can’t move, and if you’re being honest, you don’t even want to.

You’re stuck in place, heart beating out of your chest as Sunghoon leans in closer to you. You feel dizzy in the best way possible, and a part of you feels sick for enjoying the moment as much as you do. 

His breath fans your cheek, and the faint scent of alcohol on it should’ve been enough to remind you that you shouldn’t be in this situation with him. Still, you don’t move.

Right before Sunghoon has the chance to kiss you, the door swings open and you jolt away from each other out of shock, clutching your chest as you watch Jake jog into the garage.

“You guys seen my vape?” he asks, a little out of breath.

“I…no, Jake. Why would it be in the garage?” Sunghoon asks, hopping down from the washing machine. He offers a hand to help you down and you ignore it, finally starting to come back to your senses.

“Dude, I don’t fucking know! It was just in my pocket and now it’s gone, it could be anywhere. Help me look!”

Spending your night in a garage helping Jake look for a strawberry-flavored vape doesn’t sound ideal in the slightest; now is the perfect time to leave.

Heading in the direction of the party, you pause when Sunghoon calls out your name, a slight shakiness to his voice. “Keep an eye out for me, yeah?”

Another beat of silence passes, then you nod and say, “Yeah.”

In your defense, there’s nothing to feel guilty over. All you did was have a conversation with Sunghoon, and keeping an eye out for him doesn’t necessarily mean anything else will happen, right?

You try not to think too much about it as you exit the garage, holding in a laugh when Sunghoon says something along the lines of, “You’re a grown ass man, Jake.”

What Minjeong lacks in cooking, she makes up for in dancing.

While you wouldn’t consider yourself to be on her level of dancing, you’d say you’re good enough to keep up with her at a crowded party. If swaying to the music, holding hands, and grinding on each other counts as dancing, that is.

“You’re too stiff; loosen up, babe,” she comments, fingers interlocked with yours.

“Sorry,” you reply, slightly frustrated since you don’t feel like dancing in the first place. “What were you saying?”

“Oh, yeah!” Minjeong turns to face you, moving your arms to drape them around her shoulders. “Then he said I was being crazy, and that he only got the costume because it was all that was left in his size, as if I believe that.”

“Sorry that happened,” you say, and it comes out more sarcastic than you had intended it to. 

Minjeong takes notice of this, raising a brow at you before slipping her arms under your raincoat and pulling you closer to her. “You okay?”

The two of you are pressed so close up against each other that it almost feels romantic, and you’re sure if there was another drink in your system you’d probably lean in and kiss her. 

You nod. “Just thinking about Heeseung.”

Fake offended, Minjeong’s jaw drops. “You’re dancing with the hottest girl at this party, and all you can think about is your ex? I’m hurt, YN.”

Truth be told, her ex was the one you were thinking about, certainly not your own.

Not a whole lot of time has passed since you left Sunghoon in the garage, but you make sure to keep your promise of keeping an eye out for him upon returning to the party. You’re certain that on the outside you probably look panicked and frantic, eyes darting all over the place for any sign of Sunghoon.

“Well,” Minjeong starts, tugging on your tie. “Since you’re thinking about your ex, it’s only fair that I think of mine; and there he is.”

You stop yourself from excitedly shouting, “Where?!” and watch as Minjeong subtly nods towards the staircase.

Sure enough, Sunghoon is leaning against the banister, eyes zeroing in on you with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“He’s been watching me for, like, ten minutes. Probably wants to see if you and I will make out, fucking pervert,” she says, rolling her eyes.

Minjeong has it wrong, Sunghoon has been watching you for the past ten minutes. Ever since he finished helping Jake find that stupid vape, he’s had his sights set on you and you only.

That other part was probably true, though.

You swallow the lump in your throat and say, “Such a pervert.” It comes out a tad more robotic than you were going for, but you tried your best. 

Once Sunghoon is sure that Minjeong is distracted, he mouths, “Bathroom,” before immediately turning around and jogging up the steps.

Fuck, are you really about to do this? 

Your eyes dart from Minjeong to the staircase, and you can’t believe you’re even considering going upstairs to meet her ex. Everything about this predicament is sick and twisted and perfectly on brand for Halloween. 

But, somehow, it’s not sick enough to stop you.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna get some air; I’m feeling kinda dizzy,” you lie, hoping it’s believable enough.

Minjeong stops dancing immediately, a look of genuine concern on her face. “Here, I’ll come with you.”

“No, no. You keep having fun, I’ll be back soon. Make another drink for me, okay? I’m sure I’ll need it,” you assure her with a smile, taking her hands into yours.

“Fine, I’ll be here. But the only drink I’m making for you is a Ginger Ale.”

Thank God.

After giving Minjeong a kiss on the cheek (feeling guilty as ever), you slip past her and head towards the direction of the backyard. Once Minjeong is fully out of sight, you switch paths and sprint up the staircase, bumping into and angering a few people along the way. 

You keep your head down once you reach the second floor, speed walking to the end of the hallway and avoiding eye contact with everyone you walk by until you reach the bathroom.

The door is closed and locked, of course, and that’s when it dawns on you that this could be one big, elaborate prank from Sunghoon. You could open the door and be met with a camera in your face with Sunghoon recording, laughing maniacally before mentioning something about telling Minjeong everything and that he stayed loyal to her the entire time.

Unfortunately for you, even that possibility doesn’t scare you away from knocking on the door and saying, “It’s me, YN.”

The knob twists before the door is pushed open, barely enough room to slide in discreetly, but you manage anyway.

Using your body weight to press the door shut, Sunghoon reaches behind you to make sure it’s locked. “You really came.”

You hate that he sounds shocked, as if he had some faith that you wouldn’t risk your friendship with Minjeong for a few minutes with him, of all people. He’s not even your type.

“Don’t make a big deal out of this.”

Sunghoon scoffs as if you’ve said the most obvious thing in the world. “Trust me, I won’t.”

You don’t have time to overthink the meaning of his words because before you can even realize it, Sunghoon is pushing you further up against the door, and he’s kissing you, finally kissing you.

This kiss is everything but soft, and it knocks the wind out of you. Sunghoon’s hand cups your jaw, tilting your head sideways to allow himself further into your mouth. It’s wet and sloppy, you’re certain that dancing with Minjeong was far more romantic than this. You kiss back anyway, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and grabbing a fistful of his hair, shivers running down your spine when he groans into your mouth. Without breaking the kiss, Sunghoon reaches down to slip the raincoat off of you, pressing your body closer against him to ease it off. 

He pulls away slowly, his blown-out eyes focused on the string of saliva that connects your mouths to one another. “Fuck,” he groans at the sight, moving his mouth to kiss along your jaw.

You let out a moan when you feel his tongue slide against a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, tilting your head back against the door. Sunghoon takes notice of this, focusing his attention on that same spot, sucking on it hard enough to leave a mark before teasingly scraping his canines along the area.

Quickly, your fingers move to unbutton your shirt, suddenly feeling warm all over. You’re only halfway done when there’s a sudden banging on the other side of the door, startling you enough to halt your movements.

“Ignore it,” Sunghoon mutters against your neck. “They’ll go away.”

They don’t go away, they actually start to bang louder and harder once a few seconds pass.

Sunghoon lets out a frustrated sigh, lifting his head away from you, “Occupied!”

“Sunghoon?” You hear Minjeong’s voice on the other side of the door, causing you and Sunghoon both to freeze.

“M-Minjeong?” He stutters.

“I have to piss,” Minjeong whines, messing with the doorknob. “Hurry up!”

Sunghoon must sense your panic and the fact that you feel like bursting into loud sobs, because he places his hand over your mouth before mouthing for you to stay quiet.

Minjeong doesn’t let up on trying to open the door, and you’re sure that with just enough force, she could probably get it open.

“I’m using it! Can’t you just go outside?”

“I’m a fucking girl, Sunghoon. Just hurry up and finish.”

“Just…just hold on a second, Minnie.”

Minnie? Fuck is that about?

Sunghoon pulls you away from the door, keeping his voice and movements as low as possible. “You’re gonna have to hide in the bathtub, just lay down flat and wait for her to leave.”

“What?! What if she sees me?!” You whisper, silently praying Minjeong can’t hear you over the music.

“She won’t, okay? I’ll pull the shower curtain back. It’s the only option we have right now unless you want to jump out the window.”

You shake your head. “There has to be a better idea.”

On the other side of the door, Minjeong begins to grow impatient, anxiously tapping her foot against the floor. She’s had three full drinks and is on the verge of busting the bathroom door down if Sunghoon doesn’t open it soon. She focuses her gaze downward, raising a brow at a piece of plastic that’s been slightly pushed under the crack of the door. What is it? A shower curtain? It can’t be, why would the shower curtain be on the floor? It looks more like…

“Fuck! The cops!” A drunk voice yells before the entire house panics, sirens and flashing blue and red lights fill the house.

Inside the bathroom, Sunghoon had still been trying to convince you to lay down in the bathtub when even more panic sets in.

Minjeong bangs on the door one last time. “Sunghoon, the cops are here, you need to leave! Fuck, I gotta find YN!” She yells before taking off down the hall.

Police officers are raiding the house, and all Minjeong can focus on is finding you and making sure you're okay, while you were seconds away from hooking up with her ex. What a fucking nightmare.

“We gotta jump out the window,” Sunghoon says, hurrying over to the other side of the bathroom and forcing the window open.

“What?! Why?!”

“People are doing fucking illegal drugs at this party, YN, and now the fucking cops are here. My dad works for the city and if-” He pauses to grunt, struggling to get the window all the way open. “-news spreads that his son was at a house party that was full of people doing fucking cocaine his career will be fucking over. Fuck!”

This doesn’t explain why you have to jump out of the window with him, but you narrow it down to the possibility of Sunghoon just wanting to be around you for a little longer. And as pathetic as it sounds, you find yourself smiling at the possibility.

Sunghoon finally gets the window fully open, quickly hiking one leg over. “It’s not that far of a jump, we’ll be fine. I’ll go first then let you know when to jump.”

“You’ll catch me?” you ask, buttoning your shirt back up. Now that the raincoat is gone, you probably resemble a perverted schoolgirl costume.

Sunghoon sighs. “Yes, YN, I am going to catch you. Just be ready to run, my car’s down the street.”

He doesn’t give you any time to protest before hiking his other leg out the window and jumping down; you watch in horror as he lands face down. If it weren’t for your current predicament, you’re sure you would’ve gotten the ick.

It takes Sunghoon a few seconds to get back up, brushing himself off before standing, “Come on! Hurry!”

Despite your hesitancy, you follow Sunghoon’s action and hike a leg out of the window, staring down at him. “Are you sure about this?!”

“If you want me to catch you, you better jump now!”

Halloween fucking sucks.

You swear to yourself as you hike your other leg out of the window, saying a quick prayer as you brace yourself to jump.

Sunghoon doesn’t exactly catch you, but he does brace your fall, which is good enough for you. 

He groans in pain from the impact as you stand and dust yourself off, reaching a hand down to help him up. “Sorry!”

Sunghoon stands, feeling a tad bit dizzy and lightheaded. “Just follow me.”

It isn’t too late to turn around and find Minjeong and just leave with her. In fact, it’d be the morally correct thing to do in this situation. Not that you seem to care for morals.

You make a mental note to send Minjeong a text later as you run after Sunghoon.

Sunghoon is not that great of a driver, but this doesn't surprise you.

He's still somewhat tipsy, occasionally swerving along the empty back roads.

What makes it worse is that Minjeong has been calling and texting you nonstop, your phone practically burning a hole in your pocket as you ignore her relentless attempts.

Sunghoon is trying his hardest to stay focused on the road, but your phone ringing every few minutes was really starting to irritate him. "Just fucking answer her," he says, shaking his head.

"And say what? That I'm with you?"

Sunghoon isn't too pleased with your sarcasm and rolls his eyes, "Obviously not, YN; just do something to make her stop panicking."

That's way easier said than done, especially considering that you can barely even think about Minjeong without wanting to burst into tears. The guilt has already started to set in, and it has you questioning yourself and your morals.

You can't talk to Minjeong; it's too risky, but you can call your sister and ask her to cover for you.

Slipping your phone from your pocket, you force your eyes to unfocus and ignore the string of missed calls and messages from Minjeong, dialing your sister's phone number with trembling hands.

As always, Yuna answers on the fourth ring, sighing loudly into the phone before greeting you with a monotonous, "Hello?"

"Hey, um, I need you to help me with something," you keep your voice low, not wanting Sunghoon to hear your conversation despite being right next to him.

Yuna sighs again, "With what, YN?"

"The party I was at got raided by the cops, and we all ran, so if Minjeong calls you, I need you to tell her I'm with you," you say, your eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets when Sunghoon makes a sudden sharp turn.

"Sorry," he mutters under his breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

You hate that even now, you find him cute.

"Well, where are you?" Yuna asks, snapping you back to reality.

"I… it's not important, just please do me this favor."

Your sister scoffs, "You expect me to lie for you, and you can't even tell me the full story?"

"The full story isn't important, Yuna."

"Clearly, it is if you're asking me to lie to your best friend."

"Just tell her," Sunghoon groans, sounding slightly annoyed, "but make sure she doesn't tell anyone else."

Yuna doesn't have many friends, and the few she does have wouldn't even care about your drama, so it's not like she'd have anyone to share your business with. You hesitate anyway because of the principle of the situation, how just ten minutes ago you were unbuttoning your shirt for your best friend's ex. Maybe you're starting to come back to your senses because replaying the scene in your head has you cringing from embarrassment.

You lean your head against the window and squeeze your eyes shut, "I'm with Sunghoon."

The line goes silent for a few seconds, and you're worried you may have lost service from driving in such a rural area until Yuna sighs for a third time, "The pretty ones are never that bright."

"I swear it isn't like that," you plead, "just, please, help me out."

"And what will I get out of this?"

Of course, she wants something, classic younger sibling bullshit.

"Well, what do you want?"

"I don't know…a normal older sister?"

"Yuna, I don't have time for this, will you help me or not?"

Bickering with Yuna was starting to give you a headache; you were seconds away from hanging up and coming up with a new plan entirely.

"After tonight, don't involve me in this anymore; I have my own shit to deal with."

You hold back a laugh at that as if Yuna does anything other than stay home and talk to the same two people. "I won't, I swear. I'll text you when I'm close to being home; let me know if Minjeong reaches out to you."

"Whatever, just get home safe and don't do anything else stupid," Yuna says through a yawn before immediately hanging up, not giving you the chance to say goodbye.

As much as you loved your sister, the two of you weren't exactly close. The divide started sometime during high school; your interests and friend groups never really aligned and only led you to stray further away from each other.

You being fairly well-known within your high school didn't help much, either. Countless random students would approach Yuna on the daily, asking if you were seeing anyone, begging her for your number, or even giving her small gifts and treats to pass along to you. 

What annoyed her the most was that they never called her by her name, in their eyes, she was always known as "YN's sister", and nothing more than that.

You're sure Yuna doesn't hate you because of it, but it certainly didn't make her very fond of you.

"What'd she say?" Sunghoon asks, interrupting your thoughts.

"She agreed to cover for me tonight," you respond, gazing out the window, "pretty sure she's pissed, though."

"She'll get over it," Sunghoon taps the navigation system on his dashboard, "type in your address."

Despite making you jump out of a bathroom window, Sunghoon technically doesn't owe you anything. He never claimed he'd bring you back to his place to finish what you started; you quite literally only jumped because he told you to, under the pretense that maybe — just maybe — he'd want to hook up with you. 

Clearly, that wasn't happening, at least not tonight. Having to jump out the window and then proceed to drive while tipsy must've knocked some sense into him, making him realize he'd been making way too many questionable choices all in one night. 

You let out a disappointed sigh, hesitantly reaching out to type your home address into the car's GPS. The system buffers for a few seconds as it calculates the quickest route to your home before displaying an estimated travel time of thirty-eight minutes.

"Forty fucking minutes?!" Sunghoon shouts, causing you to jump. 

He sighs, cursing under his breath before reaching forward and ending the navigation route. You sit up further in the seat, ready to ask Sunghoon what he's plotting before he starts typing "7/11".

You raise a brow at this, "Why're we going there?"

Sunghoon gestures towards the navigation system as if the answer is obvious, "Your house is forty minutes away, and I'm still kinda tipsy; I'm gonna need to pull over and get something other than alcohol in my system if I'm gonna be driving for that long." There's a slight slur to his words that had you weary about him driving, so pulling over to recharge isn't a bad idea.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Sunghoon managed to safely drive the two of you to the nearest 7/11, opting to pay seventeen dollars to park in a parking garage down the street instead of the shop's personal lot.

"This neighborhood isn't that safe; I don't want anyone breaking into my car," he claims, taking up two spots as he parks in the most secluded corner possible.

The neighborhood is fairly safe; he was just being dramatic.

The walk down the street is quick and slightly awkward, with you and Sunghoon stumbling every few steps yet refusing to hold onto the other for stability.

The two of you go your separate ways upon entering the shop, Sunghoon headed straight towards the snack aisle while you make your way to the slurpee machines. The difference in your priorities was humorous, with him wanting to focus on building up energy and you wanting nothing more than a quick sugar fix.

Blue raspberry isn't necessarily your go-to flavor, but it's the only flavor on the Slurpee machine that's currently working, so you fill your plastic cup to the brim before absentmindedly reaching for a straw.

Sunghoon is still prancing around the store by the time you've finished making your drink, and despite not being that hungry, you decide to kill time by strolling through the snack aisles.

The Snickers bars and Reese's Cups look tempting as always, but you refrain, sighing as you look over the selection of peanut-contaminated candy.

"Don't even bother," Sunghoon says from behind you, causing you to gasp in shock. 

He pauses for a moment, staring at the array of snacks before grabbing a pack of Skittles and walking off.

The thought of Sunghoon being aware of your peanut allergy is as comforting as it is strange. You can't imagine this is something Minjeong randomly decided to tell him, and even if that is the case, why would he bother retaining that information? It's not like the two of you are friends.

Whatever, you're probably thinking about it too much.

After deciding on a package of powdered mini donuts and Haribo gummy bears, you proceed to the checkout counter and set your items down, looking over your shoulder at Sunghoon, who was selecting the last of his items.

The man behind the counter smiles at you, typing his employee ID number into the cash register, "How's your night going?"

"Horrible," you say, making the clerk laugh even though you weren't joking.

"Sorry to hear that," he responds, scanning your items, "your total came out to…$6.12. Oh, hello, officer."

Despite not having done anything wrong, you nearly panic before remembering Sunghoon's unfortunate costume choice.

He nods at the man, setting his own items down on the counter, "Add these too. You guys take Apple Pay?" He asks, unlocking his phone.

"Oh, you don't have to pay for mine," you say, a nervous tremble in your voice.

Sunghoon shrugs, "No big deal."

Except it is a big deal. Sunghoon behaving like a boyfriend gentleman by paying for your items only made you like him even more, which is the exact opposite of what you need right now.

You sigh, taking a literal and metaphorical step back as Sunghoon taps his phone on the card reader. 

"A cop and a schoolgirl, huh? These couple's costumes are starting to make less and less sense," the employee comments, eyes darting between you and Sunghoon. 

"We're not a couple," Sunghoon responds, a little too quickly for your liking, but whatever.

The employee apologizes, embarrassed about his implications as he bags your items and wishes the two of you a safe trip home.

On the way back to Sunghoon's car, it dawns on you that Minjeong has stopped trying to get ahold of you, which is slightly worrisome considering that she's a person who wouldn't give up that easily. 

Sunghoon climbs into the backseat this time, mumbling something about needing to rest and stretch out before driving you home. He sets the bag down on the center console, grabbing a few of his items before propping himself up against the door.

You do the same, retrieving your own items from the bag before slumping into your seat. 

When you finally unlock your phone, a new voice memo from Yuna is waiting for you. Hesitantly, you hold your phone against your ear and hit play.

Yuna lets out a loud sigh, "So, you and Minjeong must have some sort of, like,  telepathic connection because she called me as soon as I hung up on you. Anyways, I told her our cousin was also at the party and was able to, uh, give you a ride home once the cops came. Oh, and I told her your phone died and that you'd call her, um,  later or in the morning. I'm not sure if she believed it, but she calmed down.

And, by the way, I meant it when I said I don't want to be involved in whatever this is after tonight. So, for everyone's sake, if something serious is going on, do not tell me about it. Get home safe."

You're not entirely sure if you deserve a sister like Yuna, who'd go against her own morals just to cover for you, but you're grateful you have her.

you [11:54 pm] : *you liked a voice memo*

you [11:54 pm] : thanks so much

you [11:55 pm] : i promise i wont involve u anymore. if minnie calls again u can just ignore it and lmk please

yuna [11:56 pm] : oh and she told me to let you know that she's safe. tho im sure that's not your biggest concern :/

Harsh but true.

You set your phone on your lap and tear open your pack of donuts, wiping away the powdered sugar that falls onto your blouse. Much like the blue raspberry slurpee, mini powdered donuts weren't exactly your go-to snack, but your options were limited, and you weren't in the mood to roam around the store any longer.

Suddenly, Sunghoon groans from the backseat and sits up, "Phone died."

Leaning over the center console, he plugs his phone into the car charger right underneath his navigation system, resting it on the dashboard before returning to his seat. 

The car falls silent, and as much as you want to start a conversation, you're not sure where to begin. There's so much you want to ask, but you refrain, biting down on your tongue so hard you're surprised the taste of blood doesn't fill your mouth.

Sunghoon leans forward again, this time resting his cheek on the side of your seat, "What'd you get?" he asks, staring down at your lap.

You turn your head to look at him, holding up the half-eaten pack of donuts for him to see.

"Can I have one?" he asks, already holding his hand out before you could even say yes.

You hand him one regardless, watching the powder fall from the pastry as he pops it into his mouth.

Your curiosity gets the best of you, and you find yourself narrowing your eyes at him as you ask, "Sunghoon, can I ask you something?"

He nods, gesturing towards the remaining donuts in a way that tells you he wants more. You hand him the remaining three, nodding back when he mumbles "Thanks" under his breath.

"How did you know that I'm allergic to peanuts?"

Sunghoon pauses, brows furrowing in utter confusion as he looks up at you, "What do you mean?"

"Earlier in the store, I was looking at the peanut candy, and you told me not to bother. I'm assuming you must've known I'm allergic, right?" You ask, fully turning around in your seat to face him.

"Um…yeah. I know."

"Okay…how?"

"I mean, was it supposed to be a secret or something?"

"What? No, of course not. Allergies are probably the one thing that shouldn't be kept secret," you respond, "I'm just curious about how you know. I don't think I've ever told you, and I can't imagine Minjeong randomly deciding to tell you."

Sunghoon awkwardly scratches the back of his neck as he avoids looking at you. It takes the tips of his ears turning pink for you to realize that he's embarrassed, which only confuses you even further.

Sunghoon shrugs, staring down at the snack you've just given him, "Whenever all of us would hang out, and there was, like, food involved, I just noticed you'd pay so much attention to the ingredients of whatever it was you were eating. At first, I thought it was a calorie thing, but you never really asked about the calories, only the ingredients."

"But, how'd you know it was peanuts specifically?" you ask, feeling embarrassed about how curious you were over something as silly as a peanut allergy.

"Remember the hockey team bake sale? The one I made those terrible brownies for?" He asks, continuing when you nod, "You were there, and I remember how excited you were to try the cookies that Jake made, but right before you bought one, you asked him if there were peanuts in them. That's when I knew."

You can't remember the last time someone had paid this much attention to you, and it's dangerous, considering how easily impressed you are by the smallest things. Sunghoon was by no means a friend of yours; you hardly knew anything about each other and often kept your interactions rather short, so his being able to pick up on your peanut allergy just by watching you was … different. Maybe even nice.

You don't even realize you've been staring at him until he stops chewing and stares back, unblinking.

You look away, retrieving your Slurpee from the cup holder and taking a long sip as Sunghoon watches.

"Can I ask you something now?" he asks.

You don't respond, side-eyeing him as you continue to sip your drink.

Sunghoon smirks, amused by your sudden silence, "Why'd you meet me in the bathroom?"

You pull the straw away from your lips, voice barely above a whisper as you respond, "To see what you wanted."

He nods, taking the cup from your hands, "You knew what I wanted," he says, pausing to take a sip of your drink, "and you still came; why?"

When you don't respond, Sunghoon lets out a loud sigh and sets your cup back down in its holder, "It's okay, YN."

"It isn't."

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. I guess we'll never know, huh?"

This is a test of your morals, and Sunghoon knows this. Every decision you've made tonight has led you to this exact moment. There's still enough time to redeem yourself and make an excuse for your actions. You could easily lie and say that making out with Sunghoon was just a result of being tipsy and vulnerable. But now, with the two of you in his car, sobering up and coming back down to your senses, you won't be able to use those same excuses.

Realistically speaking, what are the chances of your ex's finding out? Heeseung probably wouldn't care, but Minjeong was an entirely different story.

In your defense, they've been officially broken up for three weeks and three days, so you wouldn't technically be hooking up with her boyfriend. Right?

Sunghoon must've sensed the gears turning in your head because, after a few seconds of staring at each other in silence, he leaned over the center console and pressed his lips against yours.

The kiss is softer this time, nothing like how it was in the bathroom as if he's trying to coax you in and convince you it's okay, that you're doing nothing wrong.

You find yourself slipping under his spell, eyes finally fluttering shut as he gently swipes his tongue across your bottom lip. The faint taste of alcohol is still on his tongue, but he does taste much sweeter now, like the blue raspberry slurpee he'd just had. A part of you wonders if he'd done that on purpose as if tasting better would make you enjoy kissing him like this.

He pulls away, scooting farther back into his seat, "C'mere, climb over."

You do as you're told, slipping off your shoes with Sunghoon guiding you right onto his lap as you climb into the backseat. You can't help but squirm on his lap, and he can still sense a slight hesitancy in your actions, the way you shiver when he touches you, how you initially pulled back when he tried to kiss you again.

"You're nervous," he comments, eye flickering across your face.

You shrug, holding onto his shoulders for support, "I can't help it."

Beneath you, Sunghoon reaches down to unclip the handcuffs from his belt loop, "You're making it hard to focus."

"The fuck am I supposed to do, then?!" You didn't mean to shout, but your patience was starting to run thin. You felt guilty enough as it is, and Sunghoon reminding you of how nervous you are certainly didn't make it any better.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, undoing the handcuffs before grabbing your left hand. He tightens the cuff around your wrist, "Just trust me," he says simply. He sits up further in his seat, grabbing your cuffed wrist as he pulls down on the car's grab handle. He slips the empty cuff through the slot before gesturing for you to give him your free hand.

Fuck.

"Sunghoon…"

"Just trust me," he doesn't wait for a response, grabbing your wrist and bringing it up towards the empty cuff. It locks around your wrist with a click, causing him to smile in satisfaction. 

You're sure that with just the right amount of force, you could easily snap the handcuffs in half, but it's the thought that counts. With your arms and hands restricted towards the ceiling, all you can do is stare down at Sunghooon and await his next movement, his very calculated movement.

He presses his cold lips against your neck, simultaneously using his hands to slowly unbutton your blouse. The mark he'd left on your neck earlier was as prominent as ever, and it pleased him to know you were okay with him marking you up like this. He swipes his tongue against the sensitive spot, hardening in his pants when you squirm on top of him. 

His nails trace along the bare skin of your waist once he's finished unbuttoning your blouse, your bralette — that was a few sizes too small — fully on display for him. He's practically salivating at the site, his tongue sliding across his canines, completely in awe of your breasts spilling out of the flimsy, white material.

Sunghoon can't unclasp and slide off your bra, or else it'd be awkwardly hanging in the air, and trying to slip it through the handcuffs would take too much effort. Instead, he apologizes under his breath before his hands reach the front of your bra.

"Wait, Sunghoon—!"

Without warning, he stretches the fabric until it finally rips, seemingly pleased with himself if the cocky smirk is anything to go by. "Relax," he says, "I'll buy you a new one."

You don't have time to scold him because before you can even process what's happening, Sunghoon's tongue is swirling around your nipple. You swear at the sudden contact, arching your back and pressing your chest further into his face. It's almost embarrassing how such a simple act already had your head spinning.

His hands trail downward until they reach the hem of your skirt, slowly pushing it upwards until it's bunched around your waist. He traces the tip of his finger across your clothes cunt, pleased with how wet you've already gotten without having done much.

Your hips buck up into his hands on instinct, desperate for the friction, borderline craving it.

Sunghoon releases your perked bud in his mouth, looking up at you as he asks, "You want me to stop?"

"No, please don't." You beg.

"So this is okay then, right?"

If your wrists weren't handcuffed to the grab handle, you're sure you would've reached down and choked him for all the teasing. "Yes, Sunghoon, it's okay! Just hurry up and do something!"

Sunghoon shakes his head at you, mumbling, "So impatient." as he moves to lie flat on his back.

You stare down at him, confused, when he doesn't immediately start undoing his pants but instead positions his head right between your thighs.

It's funny, Minjeong claimed Sunghoon wasn't really into giving head and only gave it to her a handful of times during the course of their relationship, claiming he preferred to save it for special occasions.

But yet, here he is, willingly pushing your thighs further apart before pressing his lips against your clothed cunt.

The action sends shivers down your spine, and the handcuffs around your wrist suddenly feel tighter. He presses his tongue flat against you, groaning at the taste of your slick that's soaked through your panties. You grind down on him instinctively, your body trembling with anticipation as you squeeze your eyes shut.

"Fuck." You whisper, tugging at the handcuffs in frustration.

The sound of the metal clinking makes Sunghoon chuckle, pressing a final kiss against your damped underwear before mumbling, "Cute."

He makes quick work of sliding your underwear off your legs, tossing them to the 

front seat with a grunt as you wait for him to continue. Sunghoon settles himself between your thighs again, groaning in annoyance as you hover over him. "Stop fucking hovering," he demands, attempting to pull you down directly onto his face, "it's fine."

It's too intimate; you've never even sat on Heeseung's face before, and you're sure this isn't something he's done with Minjeong.

"But, I don't wanna cru- fuck!"

Sunghoon dismisses your worries, forcing you down onto his face and instantly wrapping his lips around your clit. You barely have any time to process that this is completely new territory for you, being this intimate with a man, sitting right on his face while he drags his tongue along your cunt; gathering your wetness and dragging it up towards your clit before wrapping his lips around it once more.

You let out an embarrassingly loud moan at that, leaning your head against the cold window as your face heats up. This only encourages Sunghoon even further, and his confidence grows, feeling bold enough to tease the tip of his tongue into your hole.

You jolt up at this, biting back a moan and wishing you could reach down and grab a fistful of his hair and properly ride his face. He licks another stripe up your folds, gripping your thighs and holding your body in place when you try to squirm away. 

"Stop trying to run from me," he groans into your pussy, the vibrations from his voice sending a shiver across your body. 

He presses his face further into your cunt, moaning at how much wetter you've gotten since he's started. For a man who apparently wasn't one to eat a girl out, he sure did seem desperate and eager to have you come on his face. In fact, it almost seemed as if he was doing it for his own pleasure rather than yours, which only turns you on even more.

After a few more slides of his tongue, you finally feel your orgasm approaching, your thighs tensing around Sunghoon's head.

"I know you're close," he whispers, placing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses on your inner thighs, "go ahead, use me. I know you want to."

He's practically begging at this point, big, wet eyes staring up at you in pure adoration as he sucks your clit back into his mouth. That's your breaking point, the knot in your stomach finally untying itself as your orgasm washes over you.

You let out a moan so loud that your throat hurts shortly afterward, your wrists going limp in the handcuffs as you ride out your high.

Sunghoon doesn't let up until you're practically shaking from overstimulation, your body naturally twitching and squirming away from his greedy mouth as he cleans you up. He pulls away finally, his mouth and chin completely coated with your slick as he leaves a trail of kisses on your bare thighs.

You can't help but stare down at him in awe; he looks completely dazed as if he's running off, nothing but pure desperation and lust for you. You.

"Sunghoon," you say, trying to get his attention, "I…do you keep condoms in here?"

He flutters his eyes open, shaking his head, "No, but 7/11's just down the street. I can go-"

You interrupt him with a shake of your head, "I don't wanna wait; we don't need one."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm on the pill. Just, please, fuck me already."

It's music to his ears, really.

Sunghoon slides himself back up the seat, reaching up to release you from the handcuffs. You groan at this, having gotten used to them and quite frankly enjoyed the temporary feeling of restriction.

"You liked the cuffs?" Sunghoon questions, dropping your wrists from the grab bar.

"Yeah," you admit, "I liked it more than I thought I would."

He nods at this, and you realize now that one of the cuffs is still clasped around your wrist. Sunghoon also notices this and smirks as an idea forms in his head. "Turn around."

You comply with no further questions, groaning when he suddenly pushes your body down into the seat. He brings your arms behind your back, handcuffing you once more as he lets out a sigh of pleasure. "I knew you'd like it."

Sunghoon pushes your skirt back up, straddling himself around your things after pulling his pants and boxers far enough to allow his cock to spring free. He steadies himself with a hand on your shoulder, using the other to teasingly drag his fully-hardened cock across your slick folds.

Sunghoon shivers at this, cursing at the sight as he repeats his movements. He knows he won't last much longer; he was practically seconds away from coming in his boxers just from eating you out, so he really should quit with the teasing for his own sake.

Minjeong had never allowed him to fuck her without a condom, so this type of intimacy was new and overwhelmingly good.

He finally pushes himself into you, his tip alone causing you to bite down on the leather of his seat. You already felt so full, and he wasn't even halfway inside yet.

"Ah fuck," he groans, "you're so tight, you're so…fuck." He can barely even form a sentence, biting down on his bottom lip as he further inches himself inside of you.

You're not doing any better, feeling as if you're already seconds away from your second orgasm when he's hardly even done anything. It takes a minute before he's fully inside of you, pausing before he leans down and asks, "Can I move?"

"Please, I need you to."

Sunghoon nods at this, pressing a kiss against your ear before sitting himself back up. He angles your hips off the seat but presses your chest further into it, giving you (and himself) the perfect arch to comfortably slide in and out.

The first few thrusts are slow, as expected, but just enough to get you used to his size. Even this was all too much for Sunghoon; he was already dangerously close to his orgasm.

He didn't intend on speeding up his thrusts already, but he really can't help it. Everything about this feels too good. The way your walls perfectly wrap around him, and the way you're moaning and cursing for him to keep going are overwhelmingly good.

"Fuck." He moans, squeezing his eyes shut as he presses you down further into the backseat. He pulls his cock all the way out before pushing himself back in, which you seem to enjoy. He does it a few more times, mostly to humor himself since it's something he assumed you would've been annoyed by.

"Sunghoon," you pant, "I'm close."

"Already?" He asks, pushing your hips downwards until you're lying flat on your stomach.

He tries to come off as cocky and frustrated, but he really is grateful you're already so close to your orgasm, seeing that he felt like he could burst at any given second.

You nod, "Please, keep going."

He doesn't respond, opting to remain silent as you pull his cock out of you before ramming it back in at a pace much harder and faster than before. His thrusts are sloppy and borderline desperate, the sound of skin slapping and grunts filling the air shortly afterward.

The two of you could hardly keep your eyes open, too lost in the pleasure of your approaching orgasms.

Your's hits first, and Sunghoon's follows shortly after, practically filling you up to the brim with his cum. You've never felt so full and warm, heat spreading through your entire body as you slowly calm down and regulate hour breathing.

Sunghoon doesn't feel like moving, but he does anyway, slipping himself out of you with a wince, watching his cum drip out of you and onto the seat of the car. He curses at the sight, stopping himself from leaning forward and eating it out of you.

He undoes both of the handcuffs this time, helping you sit up as you avoid eye contact with each other. "Hold on," he says, re-adjusting his pants and boxers, "I should have a towel or something in the trunk."

Sunghoon steps out of the car, returning a minute later with a towel in hand. He leans down, prepared to clean you up, until you stop him, "It's okay, I got it."

He shakes his head, "I can do it for you."

"It's fine," you say, buttoning up your shirt, "I'd prefer to do it myself, actually."

Sunghoon finally gives in, handing you the towel before leaning over the center console and retrieving your panties from the passenger seat. He waits patiently for you to finish up, instructing you to just drop the towel on the floor as he hands you your underwear.

"Hey, have you…do you think you've sobered up yet?" He asks, watching as you slip your panties back on.

"Yeah, why?"

"Before I met you in the bathroom, I took a few bites of an edible, and I think it's starting to kick in. I think you should drive."

You sigh, mostly because this was not at all what you'd been hoping he'd say. "Drive where? To your place? Then where would I go?"

"I can pay for your Uber home."

"Sunghoon, it's past midnight, and I'm a girl; taking an Uber this late is too dangerous."

"Then drive back to your place; I'll sleep in the car and drive off in the morning."

You groan, "No, Minjeong might visit me in the morning. What'll she think when she sees your car in my driveway?"

"Dammit, YN, then just spend the night at my place. You can take my bed, and I'll sleep on the couch; just please drive us somewhere, for fuck's sake."

Bickering with Sunghoon somehow doesn't annoy you; in fact, it feels almost domestic. Going back and forth like a real couple.

"Fine." You say, climbing into the driver's seat.

Sunghoon's phone falls off the dashboard in the process, now charged at twenty-eight percent, and apparently, a missed text from Minjeong that was sent a few minutes ago.

The jealousy that fills your chest is downright abnormal; Minjeong is your best friend; there's no real reason for you to feel jealous of her in the first place. 

In fact, you shouldn't feel any sort of guilt at all; it's not like they're still together. They've been broken up for three weeks and three days. 

Three weeks. And Three days.

[that-sarcastic-writer]

A Ballad of Lost Souls

Eric Draven (2024) X f!reader

Summary: what happens when two lost souls find each other? Cling to each other? Love could be a very dangerous drug indeed. You and Eric meet during rehab.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, brief handjob, hair pulling, choking, size difference, size kink if you squint, bit of inexperienced!reader, Eric is actually a sweetheart, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of substance abuse, addiction, mentions of suicidal thoughts, this movie is dark what do you want me to say

Reader has tattoos, but has no further specifications, y’all get to be tattooed girlies today, you’re welcome

WC: 5.7K I’m sorry

Inspo creds @kingkat12, she also posted an Eric fic with the same concept and some of the elements of this story like some of the dialogue bits were inspired after reading hers. Please give her some love! She’s a great writer

A/N: NOBODY LOOK AT ME. idc, I love Eric okay, stfu. I just had to write him. He just needs love man. That’s all. I want to give him love. So here you go. I might make a part two if there’s enough interest. When I tell you the Eric fic supply is LOW, I’ve never seen one so LACKING. So I just had to yk? Enjoy and don’t cancel me alright.

You didn’t often dwell on the past. You had a live in the moment kind of mindset. You didn’t know where you’d be tomorrow so you made the best of the moment. But sometimes, you wondered just where your bad decisions were taking you. You didn’t mean to end up here, in this awful bubblegum pink sweater and sweatpants, surrounded by people who didn’t care why you were here, or if you got better or not. The disappointed words of your mother played in your head, and the angry words of your father hammered in the back of your head. You were a fucking disappointment, and that’s why you were here. 

You thought about ending it. This mess your life had become. It wouldn’t be too hard to find a razor around here if you truly tried. Who would miss you anyway? What even was the point of it all? By day two you couldn’t take this shit anymore. And then you saw him in the yard. You were almost entranced by him. He was so tall, he towered over everyone he walked past, you couldn’t imagine how ridiculous you would look standing next to him. You could see his ink cover his hands and fingers, and you wondered just how far the ink traveled. You were intrigued by him, he was quiet, morbidly so, he didn’t say a word to anyone, no matter how much they pressed or tossed him around, he just stared. Whether it was the doctors, the counselors, the guards. He always chose silence. And he always had this look of defiance, of apathy, he took everything with a locked jaw and deadpan eyes. And that intrigued you.

Should you try to entertain anyone in this facility, let alone the loner covered in tattoos? No, absolutely not. But lord, something about him drew you in. 

You caught glimpses of him for a few days, in the cafeteria when you walked past him to your table, maybe he thought you didn’t notice, but you caught him turning his head to watch you walk by. One time, your eyes met, they were a pretty shade of green. It was brief though, as soon as he realized you caught him, his eyes were in front of his plate, but not before you managed to flash him a tiny smile. Welcoming, playful. 

Eric remembered that. 

The next time you saw him was out in the yard. They encouraged exercise in this place, for some dumb reason. The most people did around here was stand in a corner, feeling completely miserable under the scorching sun. But much to your surprise, after some time walking around the yard you found Eric, lingering by the gym equipment. It wasn’t much, just a pull up bar and that was barely tall enough to accommodate him. No weights, of course, because someone could hurt themselves, or someone else with them. It wasn’t much, but you couldn’t help but watch as he pulled his sweatshirt over his head, revealing even more tattoos going up both of his arms. You stood in a corner like a fucking weirdo, watching as he did pull up’s, as best as he could having to bend his long legs to accommodate the short bar. Why were you just staring at this man you’ve never even spoken to? Of that you had no clue. But you couldn’t take your eyes away. He had his back to you, but even under the material of his white t-shirt you could see the muscles in his shoulders tense, his arms flexing with each pull. And you could only I magine the true sight of him. Sweat dripping down his forehead, lips pulled between his teeth as he did each pull. God, you felt like such a pervert. You shouldn’t be eye fucking him like this, but you couldn’t help it, something about him twisted the most secluded corners of your mind.

Ultimately your trance was cut short, since it didn’t take long for a group of guys to take interest in whatever Eric was doing and went straight to push him around some more. You frowned, almost upset by the sight of him getting tossed around and hazed like this. You couldn’t hear what was happening, but Eric had his head down, chest heavy as he clenched his fists at his sides, but he otherwise did nothing. You didn’t care, any fucks you still had to give were gone the moment your parents and your ex-boyfriend conspired to send you here. You were about to walk over there, not caring about what weird opposite sex rules this place had. But when you started walking, Eric did too, getting shoulder checked as he pushed his way past the group of guys. You felt awful, you wanted to say something to him, but you were frozen when he walked past you, his green eyes shooting a quick glance at you, a bit of curiosity laced in them. But you were more focused on how his shirt was clinging to his sweaty chest. And just like that he was gone.

The next time you saw him was during a group meeting that afternoon. You were almost disappointed at first when he didn’t show. You sulked into your seat for the first minute or two, upset you wouldn’t get to see him today again. And then you saw him. His expression as apathetic as ever, like he would rather get beat up than sit through this bullshit. His hair was soaking wet, small droplets of water still falling from the tips of his raven hair. Great, now the image of him in the shower was ingrained into your brain. As if you didn’t feel filthy enough.

You bit your lip softly, sitting up as he sat across from you, his expression blank with disinterest as his tattooed fingers played with the hem of his pink sweater. You weren’t paying attention either, you were more entertained by the way his long legs spread open as he slouched on his chair, taking as much space as possible. You thought about how nice it would be to sit on his lap. You glanced at his hands, they were huge. How easily he could grab a hold of your ass, or hold you still by your neck. How his long fingers would feel so deep inside you. You thought about how easily he was doing those pull ups, and you thought just how easily he could hold you down, throw you around to as he pleased with you. Truly, you would happily let him use you. You could feel heat rush to your face as you crossed your legs, trying your best to ignore the heat pooling between your legs. Why were you lusting so hard over him? You didn’t even know his name. 

Almost as if he could hear your pounding heart, Eric looked up to find your eyes lingering on him, one leg crossed over the other tightly. He tilted his head with curiosity, and his fingers twitched around his sweatshirt as your eyes met. He didn’t feel like looking away this time. The longer his hooded eyes were on you, the more nervous you became. You could feel your breath hitch in your chest as his eyes burned you. You only looked away when the counselor said your name, followed by stares. 

Shit, were you supposed to say something? 

You opened your mouth, immediately closing it as you had nothing to say. You didn’t even hear the question. You pursed your lips and shook your head lightly. The counselor sighed softly and looked to the girl beside you instead. It was common for most people here to refrain from speaking so he didn’t think too much about it. But when your eyes found Eric again, there was a small hint of amusement in his eyes, a ghost of a grin tugging at his plush lips. For the first time since you’ve been here, you saw something other than disinterest on his face. 

Perhaps he was just as drawn to you as you were to him. 

~~~

You pulled your lips into a disappointed pout as you searched around the cafeteria for his black mullet, not being able to find him. And here you thought today would be the day you finally spoke to him. You were about to sit at the nearest empty table when you found him. Even sitting down he stood out. You smiled to yourself, your heart pounding in your chest with anticipation. You looked around for guards, none were paying particular attention to you so you did it. 

He lifted his head slightly to glance at you, a quick second before his eyes were back on his plate. You saw the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. You smiled to yourself.

“I like your ink.” Were the first words out of your mouth. You said them in one breath, afraid he would get up and leave. His eyes lifted from his hands to meet yours, his eyes then fell to your own hands, one of them covered in distinct patterns and colors from your wrist up to your fingers. He wondered what else you were hiding under your sweater, like him.

“Hm.” He gave you a small nod, his plush lips pulled between his teeth in a way that had you clenching your thighs. “I like yours.” 

You smiled, the first genuine one since you’ve gotten here.

“I have more.” You whispered, leaning close to him, like it was some secret only for his ears to hear. His eyes flickered with amusement and he gave you another hum, his eyes now looking everywhere they could in hope of finding said secrets. 

“Me too.” His lips curved up the slightest bit as he lifted one of his sleeves up enough to reveal more tattoos going up his arm. Your eyes lit up as you excitedly leaned down closer with the excuse of getting a closer look. Your proximity was certainly way too close for this facility.

Leaning impossibly close to him without actually touching him, you looked up at him and with a playful smile you pulled down the collar of your sweatshirt to reveal more designs along your collarbone, the rest of the design hidden by your sweater as the colors continued down your shoulder. 

“But don’t tell anyone.” You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to hide your smile. He gave you what sounded like a chuckle and he shrugged.

“Who would I tell?” Though his face remained expressionless, his eyes had a glint that mimicked your eagerness, he welcomed your proximity. “Here he comes.”

You were confused by his words and you opened your mouth to question him as he sat back, his head lifting in the direction behind your head. 

“Males and females can’t sit together!” One of the guards, one you had noticed had a particular thing with Eric shouted, roughly grabbing the back of his chair to force him up on his feet.

“Huh? Wait, why are you taking him?” You talked back to the guard. “Hey, he didn’t do anything! I was the one that sat here. I—I’ll move. Don’t be such an asshole! Leave him alone!” You tried to help, even going as far as standing up but the guard was already taking the new owner of all of your attention away. Your heart sank as you watched the guard shout at him as he dragged him away.

He had managed to turn his head back for a second, and when your eyes met, he half smiled at you. He was almost proud of the fact that you tried to stand up for him. “I’m Eric!”

You smiled. 

~~~~~~

“Found you.” You skipped into Eric’s room, finally seeing his door open.

You hadn’t seen him since you got him in trouble at their cafeteria the day before. You got in some trouble too. You had a one on one meeting with a counselor about your choice of words and your “temper” but it was nothing more than just a slap on the wrist. Truly, you felt worse about getting Eric in trouble more than anything. You didn’t mean to, you just wanted to talk to him. He must have gotten punished because you didn’t see him during gym hour. You leaned against the doorframe as he turned around to find you. Curiosity filled his otherwise empty eyes, and a glint of amusement replaced the usual apathy in his gaze.

“I never left.” He answered with a shrug as he shuffled through the mess that was made of his artwork. Sketch papers were scattered all over his room, torn off the walls. Perhaps after getting in trouble during lunch they used that as an excuse to go through his room. 

“I’m sorry for getting you in trouble.” You expressed with genuine regret, shooting back a glance to the hallway before inviting yourself into his room. Much to the protest of the rational voice in your mind. You looked at the floor as you almost stepped on a piece of paper, you happily picked it up, admiring the black charcoal coating the page before you set it on his bed.

“Is that why you’re here? To apologize?” Eric asked almost cynically as he glanced over at you, not moving from where he stood.

“Well yeah. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” You said sheepishly, a bit intimidated under his intense gaze. There was always a look of defiance in his green eyes, determination even. He gave you a sarcastic hum, which made you roll your eyes.

“Why did you yell at the guard? You got in trouble too, didn’t you?” He asked lowly, his head slightly tilted as he searched for that little thing you did around him, when you clenched your hands at your sides, or your thighs on your seat. His eyes irked with amusement when your fingers twitched at your sides and your lips parted open.

“‘Cause… You didn’t do anything wrong. You never do anything, or say anything. And everyone around here always pushes you around. It’s fucked up.” You answered quietly, daring to meet his eyes. He pulled his lips into a small pout and nodded slowly. His silence was always so nerve wracking to you.

“Yeah, so?”

You scrunched up your face, sighing heavily at his questioning. What did he what you to say? You didn’t know why you cared. You shrugged, picking up another piece of paper by your feet. You half glanced at it as you spoke.

“I dunno.. I just.. Oh my—” You cut yourself off as you gave the drawing in your hand a proper look. You narrowed your eyes, giving the drawing a closer look, and your jaw fell open. It looked like you, your hair falling over your face, dark scribbles covering your body symbolizing the unknown designs on your body, the only intelligible one being the patterns on your collarbone, the same one you had shown Eric. But what truly caught your eye was that you were in fact, completely nude. Truly, his imagination surprised you, he had imagined every curve of your body well, despite not having seen any part of it.

Based on your flustered expression, Eric could only assume which drawing you had picked up. He swallowed, his cheeks flushing pink being caught red handed. But he didn’t look apologetic, at all.

“This what you do in your spare time? Draw naked girls?” You asked with big eyes, the still working rational part of your mind screaming alarms, but a part of you also filled with excitement at his perverted mind. Almost as if you were on his mind as much as he was on yours.

He shook his head. “Just one.” He answered with a shrug, a challenging look in his eyes. 

Either you walked out right then and there, and that would be that, or you would go all in. He was trying to figure out which one it would be.

“You are very talented, this is—” You dragged your tongue over your lip as you walked closer to him, catching glances at his other artwork. Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached him, his gaze making you shudder. He said nothing as you stooped in front of him, now having to tilt his head down to meet your gaze. God this man was so goddamn tall. “You could totally sell this for some money.”

“But,” you continued, swallowing hard as you looked up at him, and the way his green eyes looked at you made your mind all fuzzy. God, you haven't felt this euphoric since you got here. This rush of adrenaline made you dizzy, but you pushed through it. “I see one flaw in your creativity.”

“Oh?” He bit down on his plush lip, head tilted with curiosity. You hummed and nodded, daring to bring your fingers up his chest. His breath hitched in his chest, but he said nothing.

“I fear you don’t have the full picture. My tattoos are more than just a scribble of ink.” You stated matter of factly, making him breathe out a small laugh.

“Sorry. I work with what I have.” He shrugged his shoulders, trying to ignore the feeling of your hands itching up his chest.

“Maybe I should give you more to work with?” Your hands found the back of his neck and you instinctively stood on the ends of your toes, itching to get closer to him.

Eric glanced down at you, his eyes lingering on your own for a split second before glancing at your parted lips, soft breaths escaping you as you anxiously waited. He didn’t have to think about it, he didn’t want to. His mouth was on yours so hard you whined. His large hand found your hair, tilting your head back to meet your lips better. 

You weren’t sure when you ended up against the nearest wall, your legs wrapped around Eric’s slim waist as he held you up. You were right, he could hold you up like you were nothing. Truly, the oversized clothes you were forced to wear didn’t do him any justice. You wondered what he was hiding under his sweatshirt.

His lips were messy on yours, his heavy breaths joining your soft whimpers. You were so caught up in the delicious feeling of his mouth claiming yours and his hands touching everywhere he could, you didn’t hear the loud voices of guards calling your name and patient number. Reality dawned on you when you heard shouting down the hall for everyone to get out of their rooms. You patted Eric’s shoulder, forcing your lips away from his. 

“Eric—Eric.” You said his name with urgency, making him look at you, eyes filled with greed as he chased your lips. “I have to go. I don’t want to get you in trouble again.” 

He nodded after a second, setting you down on your feet after pressing one last kiss to your lips. You had a stupid smile on your face as you successfully sneaked out his room, the guards being distracted as they probably ransacked some poor bastard's room like they had done Eric’s. You glanced behind you as you hurried down the hall, catching a glimpse of Eric peeking his head through his door. He smiled. And it made your heart race.

You could not wait to see him again.

~~~~~~

“Eric!—” You slapped your hand over your mouth, attempting to quiet the desperate sounds leaving your mouth. But the way his tongue lapped at your sensitive clit and his long fingers rubbed against that one spot within your walls that had you squirming.

You didn’t mean to end up in this position, ass naked on top of one of the washing machines in the laundry room, with Eric on his knees and his face between your thighs. Truly you didn’t, you knew you would be in a lot of fucking trouble if you got caught. But the way his lips claimed yours, his tongue lacing with yours, his large hands grabbing at every part of your body like he didn’t know which one he craved to touch more. He just wanted you so fucking bad, your kisses and little rubbing here and there for the past few days wasn’t enough for him, or for you.

“I wanted to taste you so fucking bad.” He muttered against your clit, a groan rumbling in his throat when you pulled at the hairs on the back of his head, inadvertently holding his face closer against you. Not that he minded, he would stay here, with his fingers scissoring you open until you dripped on the surface underneath you. 

“Please—fuck. That feels so good.” You didn’t remember the last time someone made you feel this good. Not that you had much experience in this area, but this sure felt right.

Eric wrapped his free hand under your thigh, pulling you to the edge, closer to his mouth. He lapped at your pussy like he needed it, like it was the air in his lungs. The sounds leaving his mouth as your juices seeped around his fingers were almost as filthy as yours. 

You felt like such a slut, chasing his mouth with your hips, heaving like a bitch in heat, and quietly begging him to grant you your release, as quiet as you could be with his fingers so deep and his tongue drawing delicious circles around your clit. 

“Just like that baby… Just like that.” Eric mumbled, his fingers slipping and crooking against that perfect spot. 

Your release was so sudden, and it hit you so hard you were shaking, sobbing violently into your hand. Your head was thrown back, eyes rolled into the back of your head. Eric dug his fingers into your thigh, his tongue slipping into your hole when his fingers left you. 

“Shit—Eric—” You gasped, your thighs shaking as you weakly reached to grab his face. 

With a grunt he peeled himself from the warmth of your thighs, he stood to his full height before leaning down to capture your lips. The taste of yourself lingering on his tongue made you moan. Disoriented, you reached down to rub where his cock was straining against his sweatpants. He groaned into your mouth, his large hand flew to catch your wrist.

“It’s okay.” He gave your lips a soft kiss as he pulled your hand away. You gave him an adorable frown, your mind still spinning from your orgasm. 

“But you—” He pressed another kiss to your lips, shutting you up. He moved his lips to your neck, latching on to that one spot that had you whining. Neither of you cared if everyone saw the mark he left. 

“We’ll have time for that.” He mumbled against your skin. The way he slurred the words made your breath hitch. “Right?”

He pulled back to meet your eyes, blinking slowly as he waited for your response. You licked your lips softly, breath soft as you thought, how could he still question it. You were past the lusting. This was something else. You needed more of him, and it wasn't just sex you were craving. You wanted every part of him, even the parts of himself he didn’t want.

“Of course.. This isn’t.. Can’t you tell? What you do to me. I’ve never..” You couldn’t even form the right words, your mind still fuzzy with all these feelings you had no name for. You didn’t need to explain. Whatever it was, Eric felt the same. And he smiled, he genuinely smiled. And what a pretty sight that was.

“We should go.” He pressed his lips to the side of your head, smoothing down your hair and fixing your sweater. “Can you stand?”

You half nodded, gasping when he set you down on your feet and you instantly leaned on him for support. The sly smile on his face made you want to slap him. But deep down, you wanted to smile too.

~~~~~

The next time you saw Eric, he was walking down the hallway, his tall frame towering over the majority of people he walked past. He wasn’t hard to find. You bit your lip, unable to contain your excitement as you hurried after him. Your fingers brushed his, and almost as if he knew your touch by heart, he wasn’t startled, he didn’t flinch either. When he turned his head, his eyes grew big at the sight of you, the corners of his lips curving into a tiny smile. You flashed him a whole smile, unapologetic about how happy it made you to see him. Your obsession with him over the past two weeks wasn’t something you could explain, you knew it probably wasn’t healthy. But when were you ever known for having healthy coping mechanisms? You found something that filled you and you clung to it.

“Where are you going?” You asked him quietly as you walked beside him. He walked slower, but didn’t look at you much, as not to bring unwanted attention to yourselves.

“Laundry room.” He said quietly, his eyes dropping to meet yours. And you shared that knowing and malicious look. You couldn’t hide the smile on your lips. This time of day usually meant you could sneak off for a little while since most patients were having their once a week visitor, or phone call, which meant less guards were in every corner.

“I’m supposed to be out in two weeks.” You told Eric in between kisses, his lips trailed your jaw as his hands grabbed at your ass. 

“I’m out in four.” He answered as he pressed you against the nearest wall. He grabbed your face between his large hands, pulling you to meet his eager mouth. You whined, fists clenched around the front of his sweatshirt. You couldn’t go two weeks without seeing him, you would go fucking mad.

“I don’t want to wait a month to be with you.” You breathed out, your chest heavy as the words left your mouth. “I’m supposed to go back to my parents when I get out. They agreed to take me in to follow my treatment, but I don’t want to go. They’re the ones that put me here.” 

“I don’t have anywhere to go.” You barely heard him as he spoke, almost as if the words pained him, broke something deep inside him. It broke something in you, too.

“You can come with me. I have a little place and some money saved. It’s not much but.. If you want.. We could.. We could try something for real?” You trailed off, afraid he would reject you. It was one thing to mess around in here, where neither of you had anything else, anyone else to cling to, but this being anything other than a desperate bond by two lost souls was a different story. Outside of these walls, he could find anyone else, he didn’t have to keep the broken girl he fingered in a shitty laundry room.

“I would like that. I would like something real, with you.” His words were soft, as were his hands holding your face as he pressed his forehead against yours. You breathed out a laugh of relief. “Fuck this place. We’ll do it tomorrow, during shift change. There’s a vent up here that leads to the yard.”

You pulled him down by his sweatshirt, your lips crashing against his. He laced his fingers in your hair as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You welcomed it, lips parting as you locked your arms around his neck. 

“Eric.” You said his name softly in a quiet plea. He opened his eyes to find your desperate gaze. He told himself he wanted to be better, he knew you deserved better, but when you said his name like that, when you looked at him like that. He was no better. “I don’t think I can wait anymore. Please, I… I need…”

“Need what?” His words were coated with arousal, he knew fucking well what you meant. But he wanted to hear you say it.

“Fuck—” You kissed his lips roughly, any sanity and restraint you might’ve once had, completely. You can’t trust an addict to have good self-control, now could you? “Take me. I’m yours, just take me.”

“Fuck.” Now it was his turn to lose his sanity. He gave your lips one last kiss as he squeezed your cheeks between his fingers, licking your lips before he spun you around to face the wall. “You’re a sweet girl, don’t forget that. I swear I will fuck you properly on a bed, with flowers and shit.” 

His words were rough in your ear as he pressed his lips to your jaw, his hands making quick work of pulling down your sweatpants and panties. They pooled around your ankles as he kicked your legs open as far as they went.

“I like carnations.” You gasped as the cool air hit your exposed cunt. You heard him chuckle beside your ear.

“Those are pretty. They’re pretty like you.” He hummed as he brought two fingers up to your lips. You happily took them in your mouth. Eric almost moaned at the sight. One of these days he needed to have you sucking his cock. One of these days. 

Eric pulled his fingers from your lips and with a kiss to the back of your head, he sunk his coated fingers into your hole. Your mouth fell open, your forehead falling against the wall. You were instantly chasing his fingers, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you happily rode them. You didn’t know how he did it, how he could have you dripping around his fingers in a matter of a minute or two. You were clawing at the wall, silent moans spilling from you when he pulled his fingers from you. He watched almost proudly as your slick coated your thighs. 

“Can I take this off?” He asked quietly, tugging at the hem of your sweater. You made a humming sound, as best as you could. As if he needed to ask. Eric was happy to rid you of your sweater, more happy to find more hidden tattoos going all over both of your arms. He craved to find every single one of your tattoos, and kiss every one. But he knew it would be best to be quick.

His own sweatshirt met the same fate, and with a kiss to your cheek, he grabbed one of your hips as he pulled down his sweats enough to free his cock. A groan left his lips as he dragged his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slick. You gasped, not being able to see him, but already knowing he was big. 

“Let me know if it hurts, hm? I’ll take it easy, I promise.” He pressed his lips to your jaw, inhaling your sweet scent as he slowly sank himself into you. Only his tip was in and you could already feel the sting of his cock stretching you wide open.

“Fuck. Fuck, oh my god—” You squeezed your eyes shut, fingers clenching around nothing as he slowly filled your further, inch by inch.

“It’s okay. You want me to stop?” He asked, shushing you softly as he sat still, allowing you to adjust to the burning feeling of his size. Fuck, you should have known someone as tall as him would be this big. Somehow, it didn’t occur to you.

“No. ‘m okay. Keep going.” You reached behind you to touch him, your fingers gracing over the side of his face. He nodded into your neck, one of his hands sneaking to the front of you to play with your clit to ease you as he sank into you until his hips rutted against your ass. He sat still, speaking filthy words into your ear until you were whimpering, needing to feel more. “Eric, please.”

You didn’t need to tell him twice. His pace was slow at first, slow strokes that allowed you to revel in the feeling of his cock in and out of your walls. But as you both began to grow desperate, pathetic sounds leaving your lips and groans of pleasure leaving him, his pace picked up. It was grueling, how he fucked you against that wall. You braced yourself with one hand, the other holding his face behind you as he leaned his head to capture your parted lips into a messy kiss. He swallowed your sweet sounds as the sting of his cock had you squeezing the life out of him.

“Fuck, I have been dreaming about this since I saw you. You always looked so pretty when you looked at me.” He whispered in your ear, his hand wrapping around your hair as he forced your head back, exposing your neck. You cried out, his roughness making you clench around him. He cursed, covering your mouth with his large hand. “I need you to keep it down for me, baby. You don’t want us to get caught, do you?” 

You shook your head, doing your best to contain the sounds he was pulling from you. His hand slowly left your mouth, trusting you could keep your sounds to a minimum. You bit down on your lip, eyes squeezed shut as his cock split you open. You swore you had never been this utterly fucked out, so cock drunk before. You had never needed anyone so badly. You had never felt so strongly about anyone. You had always found something to cling to, pain, tattoos, in your more miserable and recent years—drugs, and now him. But him? This feeling he gave you, it was like nothing you had ever felt before. You wanted to hold on to him until your final breath of air left your lungs.

“I wanted this—you—so fucking bad. I needed to have you.” Eric grunted, lips latching on to that spot on your neck where the previous hickey he had left was starting to fade. “I’m so crazy about you, no amount of rehab could fix me.” 

You moaned at his words, letting them sink in. He was down so bad for you, probably as much as you were. Two addicts, seeking refuge in each other, craving this adrenaline, it was a kick you had never felt before. It was a kick only lust and passion could bring. And he ignited that deep within your soul. 

“Me too.” You panted, lips parting in ecstasy as one of his tattooed hands loosely wrapped around your throat. Fuck, the way his whole hand covered your entire neck made you gush all over his cock. “I’ve never wanted anyone this bad. You—ah!—I need you all the fucking time.”

“Then you can have me,” His fingers squeezed your throat tighter, his thick cock so deep you swore you could feel him in your fucking cervix. “All the fucking time. Forever.” 

Tears filled your ears as you could feel your release near, your thighs shuddering as you felt your legs start to give out. Eric was quick to press you further against the wall, his back flush against your chest, sweaty forehead pressed against your cheek as his cock rutted against you, over and over, until you were chanting a string of uh-uh-uh’s, your mind too overcome with the pleasure he was giving you to even speak. 

“I want you to come on my cock so fucking bad. I need it.” Groans fell freely from his chest as he once again slipped a hand to your swollen clit. The pressure of his rough fingers made you gasp, your throat closing under his grip. Your release hit you so hard you were sobbing, though mostly muffled by his tight grip. Tears fell down your cheek as your orgasm left you a shaking mess. You had never felt this way before—so overcome with pleasure you cried.

“Shh, it’s okay baby. Good girl.” The hand on your throat left to wipe at your tears, soothing you as you came crashing down. 

Eric fucked you through your release, frantically chasing his own. His name left your lips with praise, sobs of your remnant pleasure as he pushed you to the point of overstimulation. But it wasn’t until he felt his own release near that he pulled out of you. Without saying a word, he grabbed one of your hands and wrapped it around his thick cock, his own hand guiding yours up and down his slick length, sweet praises leaving his lips until he was spilling himself. 

Heavy breaths and pants of exhaustion filled the small laundry room, the air smelled like sex, and the remnants of your forbidden times were left as evidence. Eric eventually spun you around to face him, a soft smile on his lips. You had only ever seen it once, after he ate you out days ago. It was rare to see Eric smile, but you made it a vow to yourself that you would always make him smile like this.

“How fucked up are we? Finding comfort in each other like this. Did it ever cross your mind?” You said softly as Eric helped you dress. He was bending down to grab your sweater and he stood up to his full height, towering over you, and his eyes were laced with an indescribable feeling.

“When I first saw you, I didn’t know what it was, but I was so drawn to you, I looked for you everyday, and I thought I would go mad if I didn’t have you. And right now, I can tell you it’s not just lust. I’m entranced by you, I need you all the time. And if there’s one thing I learned from this fucking place is that you have to latch on to something, otherwise you’ll drown.” 

You were speechless, nothing but your soft breaths could be heard. A smile fell on your lips and you leaned into his chest. Eric sighed softly, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to his chest, he’d be damn if he ever let you go anywhere but here.

“Addicts will be addicts, no matter how much they try to fix us. But it’s not always to drugs we’re addicted to.” You sighed softly, closing your eyes as you sank into the feeling of his arms. “This feeling? I never want it to stop.”

“It doesn’t have to.” He mumbled into your hair, in his head reminding himself of your limited time, but he refused to let you go just yet. “Forever, right?”

“Yeah, forever.”

[mv1simp]

Earned It ♥️

Max Verstappen x Wife! Reader

cause girl you’re perfect, you’re always worth it (I see nobody, nobody but you)

PART TWO HERE ♥️

The story of how you met your husband, Max Verstappen, is a fan favourite. A classic rags to riches Cinderella story - well, in this case, a working class med student with an outrageous loan meets F1 multimillionaire. For years, you two dodge the questions of having kids, due to your busy careers. But lately, your husband can’t stop thinking about a 3rd addition to your family…and no, he didn’t mean another cat.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, fluff, humour, pregnancy, angst but happy ending, very brief description of sexual harassment (not from Max obviously), simp!Max, brat! reader, smut, size kink, breeding kink (very versatile from me for once), 5.7k WC

Guys, seriously, we’ve talked about this behaviour, you need to be tidier. You look up from your comfortable position on the couch, where you’re typing away one of your research projects, to see your darling husband gently scolding your three pets. You muffle your laughter with your hand, 20karat diamond ring glinting, admiring his toned build as he stands with his hands on his slim hips, reprimanding the two cats - Sassy and Jimmy - and labrador Arlo about the mess they’d made on the patio. Hearing your giggles as you fail to contain yourself, Max turns around, grinning at the pretty sound. All done, schat? Want to go out for some lunch?

You hmm in agreement, standing up to stretch and walking over to him with a cheeky expression. But first I need you to explain just what you’re doing here. You know they can’t understand you right, babe?

Max immediately tells your three so called “kids” to ignore your blasphemous words, making you giggle again at what a dork your husband was. No one would ever guess how sweet and domestic he was with you, compared to the ferocious lion he was when terrorising his rivals on the track. It is a very serious matter, schat, Max says indignantly. You’d let them get away with murder. I’m the only one who upholds any discipline in this household.

You stand on your tippy toes to kiss him lovingly on the cheek to appease him, batting your eyelashes innocently as you say sorry, baby, shall I make it up to you? and any annoyance Max had slips away as he pulls your petite frame against his much larger one to press a kiss to your lips instead. You two had been married for almost two years now, and dating for six before that, but you simply can’t get enough of each other - even now, as your innocent kiss deepens into a steamy make out session that has you panting and grinding against your husband’s thick thighs as he squeezes your plush ass with his large hands. You’re just about to ask him to carry you to the bedroom when your on-call phone rings, signalling an emergency at the hospital. Sorry, baby you say, apologising genuinely this time with a guilty look. I have to get this, go ahead and eat and I’ll make us some dinner when I’m back, ok?

Max reassures you that you have nothing to worry about, and that he’d make dinner of course, you’re going to be tired after sorting out an emergency. Your heart swells at how thoughtful he is of you and your busy career. You give him one last quick kiss before speeding out the door, scrubs on and barking orders over the phone already.

Admittedly, it hadn’t always been like this. When you had started dating, Max had been the considerably busier one - at the peak of his racing career and collecting multiple world championships as if it were child’s play. And the way you met was a classic dinner party story - F1 driver crashes his Ferrari into studious med student. It was hotly debated as to whether the fault lay with him for illegally going 80 in a 40 zone, or with you for walking with your nose buried in a textbook. Regardless, his insane reflexes had slammed on the brakes just in the nick of time to stop any real damage happening, but your textbook had gone flying in the air and straight on top of a passing truck, disappearing for good. You’d been devastated by the loss of it, more concerned with your upcoming final exam rather than any bodily harm, and as Max sprinted out from his car to worriedly ask if you were okay you’d whirled around angrily.

He was immediately struck with your natural beauty, with your pretty caramel skin and full lips and dark curls. Then he realized you were furiously pointing a finger at him and roasting his driving skills. Watch were you’re going! God, what is it with you boy racers speeding through the tiny side streets?

What?! Boy racer? Oh, Max was not going to let this grave insult slide, yelling back that he was a World-class driver, thank you, and you were the one who needs to watch where you’re going cause who reads and walks, that’s just dumb-

You cut him off, demanding to know who he worked for. Uber? Lyft? Monaco Taxi Incorporated? I’ll be sure to leave a scathing Google review, you said hotly.

Max had now realized you had absolutely no clue who he was, so basically he just looked like a complete dickhead - including to all the passerbys who gawked at the incriminating scene of the 6 foot Dutchman childishly arguing with a 5 foot, pouting girl. Deflating, he offers you his insurance information but you rolled your eyes and walked off, muttering about the goddamn Monaco elite in their Ferrari taxis.

He’d forgotten all about you until 6 months later, when he and Lando end up in the emergency department after a padel game gone wrong, only to find you pulling back the curtain - looking for Max, wait, Uber driver Max?! You’d narrowed your gorgeous doe eyes at him, then demanded to know if he was here cause he’d gotten in another hit and run. It was not a hit and run, that is an incredibly misleading statement, Max hissed, ignoring Lando’s goggle eyed stare, cause why on earth was his mate arguing with the pretty doctor who thought he drove for Uber and not F1 World Cup winning team Redbull-

The third time you had run into each other, at a charity ball where both your employers were sponsors, Max was convinced it was fate. Either that, or you were a crazy stalker. But he was, like, 98% sure it was fate as he felt his heart race at the sight of you in a fitted red silk dress and gold stilettos, your short frame still not even brushing his chin. This time round, you knew who he really was, and had an embarrassed flush on your pretty face as you said you know, you could have corrected me, it was a very awkward lunchbreak that day when the nurses starting asking if I’d gotten your signature.

He laughed, finding you adorable, and held out his hand for you to shake, grinning Let’s start over then, shall we? You’d easily returned the gesture, an undeniable spark running up both your arms as you touched. And a few months later, at the exact street where you first met, he pulled out a copy of your missing textbook that you excitedly took, laughing that he remembered only to gasp as you open it to see his messy scrawl - Thanks for not suing me, want to be my girlfriend instead of my victim? And the rest had been history, with you two now blissfully married years later.

Sure, you had your fair share of ups and downs, just like any couple did. Before your marriage, Max’s busy career meant that he was away more often than not, and although it helped that you had a busy life yourself, he knew you missed having him there at home after a long day or by your side at friends’ weddings where you’d have to attend solo. But you never complained, never asked for more because you understood that at this time of his life, his career would be first priority, and always supported him with diligently made meal preps, looking after his cats when he went away, and late night debriefs after arguments with his demanding father, your soothing voice helping calm down the burning anger in his chest.

And although you couldn’t attend every race like the other WAGs, you’d always do your very best to make it. He still grins when he remembers his last Monaco race, where you’d gotten held up in emergency surgery and had sprinted straight to the track, not having time to change into the Chanel outfit you’d sweetly picked out the night before (from a very large pile Max had generously insisted you fund with his black Amex). You’d made it just in time to see him cross the line in P1, and the pictures of you happily crying for his win as you jumped into his arms, still in your scrubs, long curls flying as he whirled you around went absolutely viral on social media. He was glad for it too, because you received so much online hate for not always being dressed like a model and by his side at every event - and knew that deep down, you felt guilty about it, even though it was such an unfair double standard. So he’d framed that famous shot of you and hung it in the entryway, so it would be the first thing everyone would see when they walk in, and understand why Max’s heart swelled with pure love and adoration whenever he looked at you.

So when he had gotten his fill with his eight - eight! - world championships and wanted to spend his Sunday mornings waking you up with his skilled tongue in between your soft thighs instead of on a racing track halfway across the world, he had promptly quit F1 - to the outrage of his father and thousands of fans - and stepped back to coach his own team instead. It was quite an accomplishment, you had thought amusedly when reading the headlines that year, to be known as the woman who had "seduced Max Verstappen to retire and become her trophy husband". Of course, Max stood for none of the media circus, retaining his infamous status as Mad Max when he openly shut down that storyline in a media statement that had blown up, making it clear that this had always been his plan and he would not be tolerating any slander of his beautiful wife whom he loved very much - who, by the way, was now the associate head of the emergency department, had they heard?

As time passed the fans eventually relaxed and enjoyed the new talent that came on, with your husband still a common figure on the paddock as coach. He'd had more time these past two years to look after you now - cooking your favourite meals and meeting you on the hospital rooftop for lunch and making all the nurses blush at how romantic your husband was, picking you up from a late shift in his Ferrari, taking you jewellery shopping in Paris one weekend then stiletto shopping in Milan the next with all your bags in his hands and his Amex in yours, and listening attentively in the living room as you practised your powerpoints on Intracranial Haemorrhage: Do early CAT scans change mortality rates? Your personal favourite gift, though, had to be when he'd brought home a 2 month old golden labrador as your birthday present. You'd always wanted a dog but had never had time for one on top of his two cats - but now, with Max home more often, he was able to look after all 3 of your kids, as you both affectionately referred to them.

And speaking of kids - the topic was something that had increasingly come up over the family events and meetups with friends you two went to. Of course, when it had first been asked, the two of you had dismissed it given there was simply no time with your careers. You religiously used contraception - with you on the pill and Max using condoms everytime. At one point, though, you both realised you rather enjoyed doing it raw - when the condom had broken after a particular rough session post 6th WDC win. Max still remembered your blushing face as he came down from what had been one of the most intense orgasms of his life, already addicted to the feeling of spilling inside you. You had bit your lip, shyly saying you know Maxie, the pill is 99% effective, I don't think we need to use condoms anymore-

He'd cut you off with a pleased growl, sealing his lips back onto yours for Round 2 as the thought of getting to fill you up every night sent all the blood rushing to his cock. Safe to say, there hadn't been a box of condoms in your home for a very long time. But as time passed after your marriage, Max started to feel an unfamiliar desire simmer in his gut everytime he saw you playing with his nieces and nephews, or when he would be showing Daniel's toddler how to operate a racekart, or when he’d finish inside you, watching your eyes roll back in pleasure, and wonder what would happen if you weren’t on the pill. He avoided saying anything as your answer to the kids? question at Family Xmas was still not right now.

But lately he hadn't been able to deny the aching yearn he felt any longer, and especially not when you two had been celebrating Charles' and Alex's pregnancy announcement on their yacht last weekend. You'd looked so happy for the couple, congratulating Alex on her glow and admiring the ultrasound pictures but all Max could think about was how amazing he was sure you'd look carrying his child, how he wanted to have your baby scans on the fridge door and argue over names, how he was sure you would be the most amazing mother to his kids and he couldn’t have picked a better wife. He must have been looking quite jealously at the scene because Charles comes upto him, greeting him with a Hey, mate and a knowing smirk. Max grunts, sipping his G&T, then realises he might be acting in a way you would refer to as "dickhead behaviour", so he also throws in a gruff congratulations.

Charles' is not having it though, having recognised the intensity which Max was staring you down with. You know, he starts, prompting Max out of his one-way thoughts, You could always try bringing it up directly with her instead of expecting her to read your mind, hmm? Max glanced at him side ways. Already practising your fatherly advice? He joked, diffusing the tension, before the conversation moved onto how the new young F1 drivers just didn’t appreciate a good wheel to wheel battle like back in their karting days.

Charles' words stuck with him throughout the week, and one night as you both settled down for bed, he decided it was time to ask. Schatje? he begun, watching you from his position in the bed as you brushed out your damp curls in the mirror, dressed in a cute silk nightie. You hmmed at him, slightly distracted by a tangle in your hair but prompting him to continue. You know, I was, well -whatdoyouthinkaboutgettingpregnant?

You frowned slightly, still distracted by the tangle in your hair. Who, Alex and Charles? I think it's great, they've wanted kids for a while now, right?

Max takes a deep breath, tells himself to stop being a pussy, and walks over to you, taking the comb away as he brushes out the tangle himself. You look at him curiously as he tilts your head up with his large palm, brushing your cheek lovingly as his ice blue eyes meet yours. No, shcat he murmurs gently. I mean us, getting pregnant, having a baby. How do you feel about that?

Your jaw drops open at his words as your brain temporarily stopped working. You feel your face blush from the thought of your husband getting you pregnant. As hot as it sounded, out of all the things, you hadn't expected him to say that. You realise your surprised silence was making Max freak out, the telltale sign of a crinkle between his brows. You scramble to come up with a response, stuttering that Oh, sorry, I hadn't really thought about it, I guess and that we'd both been busy with work for so long it kind of...slipped my mind?

But what do you think, liefje, your husband pressed, hopeful. Do you want to try? You honestly weren't sure, this was all so sudden and you needed a bit more time to process it - but when you told Max this you didn't miss the hurt look that flashes across his face as his insecurities rise up. He asked if the problem was that you didn't want to have kids with him, because how could you possibly not have thought about it, all our friends and family constantly bring it up all the time-

I don't know! you'd responded defensively, arms crossed. We'd been focusing on your racing for so long that I just stopped thinking about stuff like that. The argument had spiralled out of control quickly, Max demanding to know when you were going to stop holding that over him, and when you wanted to think about it then, you two weren't any younger, after all - prompting you to angrily accuse him of always putting his job above yours, because now that he had his fill he was ready to start a family but what about your career?!

You hadn’t been able to stop the tears that dripped down your face as the argument escalated into a full blown fight. Max had sighed seeing that, deflating and saying you should both head to bed for now. You’d lain next to him, feeling so cold without his usual warm bicep pulling you against him, trying to hold back more tears before you drifted into a fitful sleep. Max hadn’t been any better either, only falling asleep in the early hours of the morning and when he woke up, you were already gone. He’d started trying to look for you but then remembered you had a conference in London today you’d had to fly out for - you wouldn’t be back for a week, he reads on the note you’d left on the fridge.

Fuck, it had been a bad night to have such an ugly fight considering you two had left so much unresolved. Later, when he’s visiting his sister’s for dinner and watching her kids with the same burning want in his heart, his mother corners him and demands to know why he had shown up looking like a kicked puppy. Your wife’s been gone one day and you’re already so hopeless? She’d joked, but clearly had a concerned look in her eyes. He couldn’t stop himself then, opening up about the horrible fight. He feels terrible that you had ended up crying, but still can’t help feel that you were being purposely selfish, he explains, after all, we’d be raising the baby together, she can still have her career, no?

His mother had been silent for a while, taking it all in, before she gently reminded Max about how she, too, had been in the peak of her very successful karting career when Jos had gotten her pregnant. Your wife isn’t me, and you certainly are not your father, she said firmly. But she’s scared, Max, it’s not personal. She’s scared she could lose everything she’s spent years building while you get to have it all. It isn’t as easy for a mother to put her career on hold as it is for a father. Even if he’s as loving and caring as you will be, she reassures.

Max looked troubled, then, as your responses last night now started to make sense. God, he was such a terrible husband, how had he not considered that before? Sensing her son’s brain was running at 100 miles a minute, the older woman lays a soothing hand on his shoulder. Just give her some space, Max. Let her come to you. You two will work through this.

So he gives you the space, and 6 days later he’s standing at the arrivals area of the airport, stonily looking out the window at the planes landing but internally fighting a storm of emotions. You two had never had these many days of no contact in your whole marriage, and he’d said some vicious things that night, and what if in the time away you had decided you would be better off without him? His jaw clenched at the idea of losing you. God, maybe he shouldn’t have given you space but spammed your phone, begging for forgiveness. Why was marriage so much more confusing than driving a car at 200kmph?

Suddenly, he hears the click of your familiar YSL heels walking up to him and he turns frantically to see your petite figure come to a stop a few feet away. Your face looks just as troubled as his, but as soon as your eyes meet you can’t control yourself and run forward to jump into his arms. Max welcomes you eagerly, all his tension releasing as he hugs you tightly, broad arms easily lifting you up and pressing his face into your neck to breathe in your perfume. You’re rapidly saying something about how you were so sorry, you had overreacted - You don’t have to apologise for anything, liefje, Max says fiercely, God, I missed you so, so much. I shouldn’t have brought it up so suddenly. Take all the time you need, okay?

You blink back happy tears, heart so full at your understanding husband as you looked up into his blue eyes adoringly before sharing a loving kiss. Passerbys smiled at the sweet scene you two made. Max took you home, one hand carrying your luggage and the other firmly around your waist, as if he was paranoid you were going to disappear. Again, in the car, his hand stayed glued to your thigh, softly stroking it as you told him about your week in London. And then at home, you had to stop him as he got ready to climb into the shower with you, giggling and saying you were starving, baby, did he want to grab some dinner for you two?

He’d pouted, but then perked up excitedly once you promised you two could go for a swim in the pool after dinner instead. Need anything else while I’m out, schat? He asked, grabbing the Ferrari keys. You hesitated, making him turn around, as you blushed a little and said Would you mind grabbing some condoms, Maxie? I forgot to take my pill to London so I haven’t been on anything for a week…

You search his face for any hint that he’s upset you still needed time, but found none, only a gentle expression on his face as he pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek. Of course, schatje, he says lovingly before heading out. You watch him go, a devious smirk now on your face. A part of you felt bad for the game that you were planning on playing with your husband later that evening - but, oh well, you had to have some fun in a marriage, right? And your sweet, darling, perfect husband had passed the test with flying colours tonight, showing his dedication to putting your needs first.

The truth was, you’d also reflected on your marriage and its future in London. You’d thought and thought until you could think no more about whether or not it was time to have kids, if you should even have kids, not because you didn’t want them but because you were so worried about how it would derail the career you’d worked so hard to build. And then you’d remembered how Max would spend hours quizzing you for your residency exams, while you were on the toilet or in the kitchen, making sure you got every answer right and you’d passed with full marks.

Or how you knew you loved Max for the first time, when he had stood by your side and steadied you as you shakily reported to your boss about a supervisor who’d developed a nasty habit of feeling you up at work and barring you from surgeries if you said no. Max had stood by you through it all, his large, gentle hands holding your own, a contrast to the thunderous expression on his face at anyone who tried to give you a hard time when you came forward - and he didn’t ease up until the creep had been permanently stripped of his medical license. Even now, when you’d sometimes shiver at the memory, he’d pull you into his safe arms, murmuring how proud he was of you, schat, you were so brave for speaking up.

You thought about how warm you’d felt seeing Max gently rock his nephew in his strong arms, or how impressed you had been seeing how he taught the kids how to drive a kart, or how devoted he was to your marriage and your three pets, always being there to provide for you and support you however you needed him to be - mentally, physically, emotionally. Max really was the best husband to you, and he’d be the best father to your kids. And you knew you had your answer.

So now, after eating your favourite dinner of Italian pasta, expensive red wine and tiramisu for dessert, you got changed into your bikini, a skimpy pink number Max always enjoyed, and slipped on a gold choker with matching anklets, all adorned with the letter M - a custom made Cartier set he’d brought for you on his birthday, as a gift to himself. The box of condoms he’d picked up lays on the bedside table. You smirk at them as you pass by - they won’t be needed much longer. Not that your husband had any clue of that - yet, and you couldn’t wait to see the expression on his face when he figured out just how you were going to reward his devotion tonight. Picking up a second bottle of wine, you take a good swig and make your way out to the dark backyard where Max is shirtless, the pool’s neon lights reflecting the water droplets that slide down his large, muscular back. Shit, you had to stay extra focused if he was going to be looking so delectable tonight!

He turns as he hears your anklets tinkle, smirking as he takes in your dolled up appearance, all for him. Coming in, schat? He calls huskily, feeling his cock hardening at the sight of you after a whole maddening week away. Just admiring the view, you say cheekily, taking another swig from the wine and slowly stepping into the pool. You can feel your husband’s hungry gaze sliding up your curvy body, and you shiver, feeling rather like a deer caught in a lion’s trap even though you were the one playing games tonight. You come to a stop in front of him, your head barely reaching his upper chest, giving him a generous view as your tits spilled around the tiny bikini. You sultrily gaze right into his darkening blue eyes as you take yet another sip of the wine, your pink tongue darting out to circle the tip of the bottle in quite the slutty manoeuvre. Missed you, Maxie you say coyly. Especially missed having you inside me.

He growls lowly at your teasing, easily taking the bottle off you and downing the rest before discarding it to the side. You whine as he puts a stop to your antics, pouty lips and large doe eyes staring up at him invitingly. Chuckling, he places a large palm across your ass and lifts you up against him. Your thighs wrap themselves around his toned waist and your hands tangle in his soft hair, gently tugging on the strands just the way he likes it. Now face to face, you tease him further, whispering in his ear about how lonely you’d been while away, how normally you’d call him and have him talk you through an orgasm, and how your tiny fingers hadn’t been able to make you cum all week because you needed his thick ones to stretch you open.

Fuckkk, schat, Max breathes, feeling his cock grow impossibly hard, his blue eyes completely darkened by lust. I missed that filthy little mouth of yours so much. He glides his thumb along your pink lips and you part them easily, taking him in and swirling your tongue around him. He can’t hold himself back any longer, pulling you in and replacing his thumb with his tongue. You moan into the dirty kiss, running your hands along his muscular shoulders, addicted to the feeling of his strong, thick biceps caging you against him. Your bikini strings are deftly untied as he practically rips it off of you, breaking the kiss to lean you back and suck on your pretty nipples. You squeal as he gently bites down, murmuring maybe you shouldn’t have been such a cocktease, schat.

You’re now grinding your pussy against his abs, begging him for more, please, Maxie and asking him to take you to bed. He smirks at how easily you fall apart under his tongue, squeezing your ass as he carries you inside, always giving you what you wanted like the devoted husband he is. You two have no regard for the sheets as you drip water all over them, foreplay long forgotten as your bikini bottoms are yanked off, followed by his trunks. You’d honestly forgotten about the damn condoms by this point but Max hadn’t, hurriedly ripping open a packet with his teeth as you whine at him to hurry up, Maxie, I can’t take it- Oh!

You moan blissfully as he buries himself inside you. Feels like coming home everytime, schat, he breathes out as he holds his position for a few beats before he starts thrusting into you. Holy shit, that felt sooo good. You didn’t think you were going to last very long at all - putting a time limit on your plan. You let him get a few more thrusts in you before you start begging again, this time asking Maxie, wait, can-can we please take the condom off?

He looks down at you in surprise, saying you hadn’t been on the pill this week schat, it’ll be risky-

Oh, your darling husband still hadn’t caught on to your suprise, and as you whine that it’s okay, you can just pull out, right Maxie? you almost giggle from the strained expression on his face as he considers that feat of self restraint. But he wasn’t going to say no to you, not when you were below him with your lush dark curls spread around you and looking up at him so adoringly, so he reaches down and pulls the condom off and sinks back inside you.

Shit. He swears at the vice grip you have his cock in, one hand automatically going to grasp the headboard to try and maintain some control and ground himself. But you’re begging for more and it feels so good to be back inside you, raw, feeling your slick heat up on his thick cock that his thrusts start getting sloppier. He’s panting above you, both hands now gripping the headboard to hold himself back from the urge to cum inside you.

Your devilish eyes don’t miss this, and you grab his thick wrists to pull them down so his hands rest on your bouncing tits, begging him to play with them, please. Oh, shit, he feels his orgasm quickly approaching from your positively filthy demands tonight. But as he starts to pull back you wrap your legs around him tightly, keeping him in place as you make your final demand - Noo, Maxie, don’t pull out, you can come inside me, it’s ok-

Perplexed, knowing he can break your grip around him in half a second, your husband is now very confused as he points out with gritted teeth that no condom and no pill and no pulling out meant-Yes, yes, I know! You whine impatiently. I want it Maxie, I’m ready now, come inside, I want to get pregnant!

Max pauses above you, this time being the one to have his brain function temporarily suspended as he slowly figures out just what you’re saying. Are you sure, schat-

You roll your eyes, sinking yourself down onto his cock, making him moan, and hoping he gets the message. Oh, I’m definitely sure, dear husband, you say sultrily. Now, are you going to fuck a baby into me or what?

He finally clicks, his confused gaze now morphing into pure joy as he grins down at you, and you can’t help but grin back, the two of you finally ready to progress into the next step of your marriage together. He pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, catching you off guard. You know I love you right, schat? He murmurs, and you nod, confused where he was taking this. Good, cause I’m about to fuck you like I hate you. That was a dirty game you played, yeah? Edging me all night when you were gonna let me fuck you raw all along. Gonna have to punish you real good for that. He growls darkly, his large hand coming to squeeze your throat, making you gasp in delight.

Oh, you loved when Mad Max came out to play. Your legs are tossed over his shoulders and then pressed all the way back against your soft tummy, into a mating press. The unfamiliar position has you screaming in pleasure, your anklets dangling by your face as he thrusts his way back into you. Your husband chuckles wickedly at your reaction, pumping into you deeply and making the headboard bang against the wall each time.

And true to his word, he punishes you thoroughly, not stopping despite your overstimulated pleas as you repeatedly orgasm, instead cumming inside you over and over and over again, leaving you obscenely full with his thick load.

And when you finally pass out into blissful darkness, he meanly fucks you awake again, demanding that you take another round from him like the good little wife you are, aren’t you, so obedient for me, hmm? Gonna fuck you stupid until you’re finally pregnant with my kids, like you always should have been.

Safe to say, you didn’t get much sleep that night, or for many nights after 💖

—————————————————————————

UPDATE: PART TWO out now!!

A/N: damn this is a whole ass essay. I love simp husband max so much tho I couldn’t help it 🥺might make a part 2 about the pregnancy and protective max hehe if people like this! Lmk what you think 🫶🫶

[saduko]

PAY YOUR DEBT

Lando Norris x Driver!Reader 7.6K words

Summary: Lando's Austrian crash could not have come at a worse time, and now he's scrambling to find someone to replace him in the upcoming Quadrant video. He's so lucky you care, and that you're horrible at lying. Or in which, reader takes Lando's place during Quadrants; 'Spill Your Guts', and they manage to pull some interesting information out of her.

Childhood Friends to Lovers, Pining, Slowburn

Despite having never met you, the cast of Quadrant were more than familiar with your name for one of a few reasons. The first being that, you were of course, a renowned Formula 1 driver beloved by many. The second being their own proximity with another famous Formula 1 driver who so happened to be your Mclaren teammate. 

For years they watched from a distance, saw your interviews and watched your races, cheering their team in orange on as the two of you dominated race weekends once again. It was obvious Lando was fond of you just off the way the two interacted on track, but beyond their parasocial concept of your relationship, they knew he liked you because of the sheer number of times your name was mentioned in the Quadrant circle. Lando’s inability to refrain from speaking about you was frankly an ongoing joke at this point. Though they playfully rolled their eyes at every mention of your name, they knew they couldn't necessarily criticize him for it either. Its hard not to talk about people you spend a lot of time around, and naturally, with you two being teammates and all, it wasn’t all that strange for him to want speak about you.

And when they consider the fact that your history stems way beyond just the devoted McLaren camaraderie you share, it’s hard to be mad at him when he brings you up. You two did grow up carting together after all, entering every stage of your lives with the other. You were childhood friends.

Except they had also spent a lot of time with Lando. Yeah, you might work with him, but so do they, and they knew he wasn't just talking about you because you were around often. They knew he wasn't just mentioning you because you grew up swerving along the same tracks or because you now wore the same bright papaya orange.

The man so obviously liked you and they all knew it. He mentioned your smile far too often to hide it, and he always seemed a bit too proud when he talked about being the reason you did. Not a single Quadrant member has ever spoken to you before, and yet somehow each one could articulate the way your eyes crinkled tight when you laughed or how your lips pursed hard when you found something funny but didn't want to show it.

He liked you, even if he denied it.

And so the Quadrant cast begged and begged to meet you. Eager to see the woman who has evidently captured the man's attention, despite his insistence to the contrary to no avail. Though, their efforts hadn't entirely fallen on deaf ears; in fact, Lando had been trying to get you in a Quadrant video since he founded the damn company, begging for nearly four years, only to be met with the same dismissive glare from your gleaming eyes every time.

“One day, Lando. Not today.” 

One day, you would say. Though he’s starting to think one day is no day at all. In your defense, opportunities away from the relentless gaze of the media are far and few between and the brief moments of peace you manage to find are precious. The thought of spending that private time filming yet another video for millions to watch has never been particularly enticing. As much as you care for Lando, sometimes you cherish your downtime just a little bit more.

But... this time he was stressed, and you could see it. He was supposed to film a Quadrant video this week. Finally home in London for this week’s Grand Prix, at last, he was able to put a little more effort into his personal business. It was one of the very few times a year he was able to participate in the creative side of the brand. The whole video had been planned, written, set up and was ready to be shot. The date was set, it was finally coming together. But then Lando crashed. He crashed in Austria and now his work at Mclaren had essentially been doubled for Silverstone week and he had no time to film. And now all the week’s worth of effort put into preparing the video had been flung out the window. It was supposed to be yet another spill your guts video focused on Lando and his career but now with last week's events disrupting this week's schedule, they were going to have to rewrite all the questions and find someone to fill his spot.

And so you’d watched him for the past few days on calls, asking around to see who could be available on such short notice. Between his team of producers, the other members of Quadrant and possible candidates for the video, on top of the copious amounts of obligations he had at the Mclaren headquarters, you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty knowing you were spending all the current free time you had between track work lounging around the Hilton pool. You technically had no reason not to help. Changing the script wouldn’t be an easy task with the little time they had. You knew filling in meant they would have their empty spot filled and they wouldn’t need to tweak the script as much. You were a driver too, the questions they would have asked Lando still mostly applied to you as well. And you knew it’d do Lando a huge favor; lift such a massive weight off his already heavy shoulders so he could run around McLaren focusing on what actually mattered most this week - getting his car ready for the upcoming race.

And so you did it. You smiled so kindly at Lando on that faithful Wednesday afternoon and so calmly announced that if he was struggling to find a replacement, you’d be happy to help him out just this once. It was finally one day, you would take the spot for Quadrant.

Landos face had never expressed so much surprise yet simultaneous relief. And it was only a matter of seconds until Landos arm had reached entirely around your waist and your feet had left the ground. You caught a few questioning glares being sent your way from a couple Mclaren engineers in the garage, but the breath struggling to find its way to your lips at the force of it all left you unbothered. “Y/n, thank you so much, you don’t understand how much this helps me out! I owe you so bad.” 

You would never say it to him, but his smile in that moment had almost paid his debt entirely right then and there. All the nerves and doubt about the decision you just made had nearly swept right by as you watched his face light with adoration. But instead you sent him a defeated grin as he placed you down on your heels. “I’m gonna hold you to your words. I better not regret this.”

“You won't, I swear.”

__ Regret this you will. As soon as the quadrant team had received the call that in his place, Lando's fellow teammate would instead be filling in for his absence, they immediately knew this wouldn’t be the video everyone was anticipating. They would take this opportunity to finally squeeze out the information they had been waiting to know for years. This would be their first time meeting you, and god was it a gold's mine worth of an opportunity. Not only would they be able to question you about your life as an F1 driver, they could also question you about your romantic life as an F1 driver, specifically about your relationship with Lando, a topic you successfully eluded everywhere else. But this video was the perfect opportunity. They would have a polygraph on set, and you were doing Lando a favor. You couldn’t leave and most importantly, you couldn’t lie.

The topic of your love life wasn't a new one, and a flurry of greedy journalists digging for a story have attempted to ask about your potential feelings for anyone and everyone on the grid. You always denied ever liking any fellow drivers and kept adamant that your driving and personal lives stay separate. But they had Lando as a secondary source - maybe to a fault - and from everything the man had explained, there was no way you weren't at least a little into him. And they were gonna get it out of you.

Was it a bit unethical? Maybe. Was it manipulative? Perhaps. Had Lando already told them he’d cut their pay if they fucked with you. Absolutely. But he’d be fine once he hears what you would inevitably say. He could thank them after they got you to confess the crush you just had to have on Lando. 

So here you were, staring at a set full of very enthusiastic YouTubers, all beyond eager to be sharing a table with the phantom of a woman they had been hearing about for almost 4 years now.

Not only were you a talented and beloved motorsports athlete, more importantly, you were the girl their mate liked. and as a friend, they were curious, but as youtubers, they were out for blood. And if there's one thing a group of Youtubers were going to do, it was get you to admit your deepest darkest secrets for online content.

There would be no filling, only spilling, they'd be sure of that.

Oblivious as you were, despite how nervous you initially felt about participating in the video, it had been smooth sailing so far along. Everyone was nice enough and you could see why Lando enjoyed the company of these people, they were all quite funny after all, and the questions were not the absolute mood draining, time wasters you were used to receiving.

You were nervous coming into this but maybe this wouldn’t be all that bad.

The table settled from their laughter as Ria finally swallowed whatever it was she had been forced to bite into. Bull testicles? You didn’t want to know, and honestly it didn’t really matter all that much anymore because for the third time round, it was your turn again, and you were now being strapped up to the Polygraph machine.

Max Fewtrell's eyes sparked with a menacing joy as they locked with your own. He was hosting this video, meaning he was safe from the contents of the table, but more importantly, he got to interrogate the girl his best mate was into. He was the only person who knew that for a fact thanks to the multitude of conversations Lando has had with him in private, begging for advice on what to do. As bad as he felt about it, Max could never give Lando a straight answer, he didn’t know his fellow driver, didn’t know what it was she felt, and if she truly meant what she was saying in her interviews, it wasn’t looking too good for his friend.

This was finally his opportunity to help out.

“Y/n…” His voice carried menacingly around the room, dragging out each syllable to draw the suspense. You eyed him playfully, keeping your guard up as his eyes flickered from you to the card in his hand and then back up to you a few times. The last few questions had been relatively tame, all relating to your job; who your favorite team really was, who you disliked the most on the grid, (you'd had your fair few arguments with Stroll, but you bit into an 1000 year old egg because you were not going to admit it.)

A part of you hoped they were giving you easy questions because you were a guest - a good friend of Landos at that, but at the back of your mind you knew better. And that’s why when the question escaped Max’s lips, you really didn’t feel all that surprised. “Do you really mean it when you say you like to keep your professional life and your private life separate?”

Simple enough, but you were smart enough to know the implications of the question, so you hesitated. “... Yes.”

A pause, no buzz. “That’s true.” Ethan comments.

“Okay that’s too easy, let me rephrase it.” Max’s gaze bore straight into your own. “Do you really mean it when you say you don’t see any of the boys on the grid as like, candidates? You don’t find any of them attractive?”

The groan that escaped you was so inherently guttural you hadn’t even noticed you made the noise. Everyone laughed at your reaction and it seemed so light hearted on the surface, but inside your mind was beginning to race, heartbeat speeding up as if the peddle was full throttle. This was exactly what you were nervous about.

You had felt a bit uneasy once finding out a polygraph machine would be present, and crossed your fingers that the team wouldn’t get into the topic of your romantic ties with the boys on the grid. You guess your luck didn't really extend past the track. initially, no ties with the other drivers sparked any fears within you at the question. You really didn't have any romantic ideas of anyone, the others truly were just friends, boys you grew up with, some like brothers. None of the boys had ever made your eyes wander, or ever had your heart skipping beats when you made eye contact. There wasn’t a single driver you could think of that had ever made you nervous or left you hoping for anything more than just a friendship. No one except that one boy. That one stupid boy that had led you into this goddamned position in the first place. That one stupid boy who’s mates were all gathered around the table with eager eyes directed entirely towards you, waiting for an answer. This was truly your worst nightmare. Maybe you did like Lando, maybe the moment had awoken within your days in F2; seeing him grow from the scrawny kid on the track to something else entirely. So what of it? No one needed to know that. Curse you and your incessant want to help that stupid boy through his stress. Why did he need to make you care about him enough to do this? Now, you could ‘fill your guts' if you really wanted to, but with a yes or no question like this, no answer is just as much an answer in itself. You had watched this game enough to know how it worked, and so you opted to take your chances against the polygraph machine. “Yes I mean it.” One phrase. A simple phrase muttered through a guilty smile, and yet you could hear your heart through your ribs as you told the lie and it was so, so silent after that. The anticipation felt like the devil himself had engulfed the room in its glory. The faces at the table had your palms sweating further and Ginge’s ability to hold such intense eye contact left you wondering if there was more to this than it seemed. God, was this the longest 3 seconds of your life. But you were good under pressure. If you can keep your heart steady driving at 350 kilometers an hour, you could keep your heart steady enough to lie your way out of this question-

Beep.

Suddenly the room was ablaze with noise, yelling and screaming as everyone expressed their disbelief yet absolute excitement at the answer. Incoherent sentences thrown your way one on top of the other but your brain couldn’t decipher a single sentence, instead engulfed in the thought of how much this would change the way all the boys spoke to you, how Lando spoke to you, now that they knew you did like someone. You could already hear Danny’s teasing voice followed up by his sly, all knowing smirk. Fuck. Was it too late to back out? Maybe you could bribe Lando into deleting the footage. 

But as you glanced forward into Max’s eyes, you saw the silent omniscient smirk that trickled on to his face - like the calm amidst the chaos - and you knew there was no going back. You were cooked. Your face fell into the palm of your hands, sheepish laughs slipping past your lips as you spoke in a slow, bashful tone, “No! It’s-.. It’s not like that!” But damage control is useless when the damage is already done. “Oh really?!” Ginges thick accent was next to echo across the room over top all the others, “Cause it seems like you’ve been secretly canoodling with some fast bastards and lying to all us about it!”

Ethan was the first to laugh, and soon everyone else's laughter followed suit, and as defeated as you felt a loud chuckle slipped past your lips at the comment. At the very least they were being funny about it and not trying to make a huge deal of it.

However, for the time being they couldn't prove it but once you admitted it, there was no going back, so you figured doubling down and playing dumb was the best option. “No- like, okay; the boys are good looking, they're attractive but that doesn't mean I necessarily like any of them. I grew up with these boys, you know, they’re like brothers to me. Your machine is definitely bugging out or something.”

“Nah, I think it’s working fine.” The reintroduction of Max’s voice had the room settling once again. It seemed all the quadrant members were on the edge of their seats, like they had been anticipating this the whole time.

“But if you’re sure it’s not working properly, I can try asking a different question, rephrase it a little better for you?" Max's face turned towards the camera. "In fact, we have a little tradition here!” His eyes gazing through the lens as he spoke. “Spill your guts tradition says that guests have to answer the final question and rules are no eating on the last round.” Now his eyes turned to you, “Truth’s only, so I hope you have your answer ready.”

You were just moments away from opening your mouth to protest, the words at the tip of your tongue; No thanks it’s fine,’ or even just a ‘I’ve already answered two questions, it’s not my turn anymore.’ as petty as it was. But the words were never able to slip past your overly gnawed on lips before your heart was sinking to the absolute pits of your stomach. “Who do you like on the grid and why is it Lando?”

Panic. “God! No- no it’s not Lando!” Deny. “Definitely, not Lando!” Deny.

The polygraph machine was silent for a moment as everyones eyes flickered over to the screen, and you endured the tension in real time as your forehead came down, lips pursing. And yet nothing came, no beeping sound to be heard. 

To this all the boys are silent, and Ria’s eyes flicker up to Max as the man furrows his brows down. There was no way they managed to make the driver inadvertently admit she liked someone, just for it to not be Lando. You had to like him. All the stories Lando told him, all the words you spoke to him repeated back to Max, all the looks Lando was adamant he observed. All the nights clubbing, celebrating their wins together in videos Max himself saw. Your hands would travel just a little too far up, or your eyes would hold his just a little too long. It had to be Lando. He knows it.

“Okay, okay fair enough. Then I'll ask again, more direct. Y/n, do you like Lan-”

You knew the flaring panic in your eyes was not doing much to help your case, neither were your next words, but by the grace of god, or maybe his pity, that machine didn't beep despite your lie and you had just been handed an out, and lord be damned if you weren't going to capitalize on that inconclusive result. “Wait!” 

You need to be smart about this. You needed to give them something they wanted whilst not giving them everything. A little sacrifice to spare a lifetime of embarrassment, and probably a long and testing conversation between you and Lando. “How about I take one bite of every single thing on this table, chew and swallow instead.” Your eyes held so much hope, pleading for an out but Max only laughs at your soft little doe eyed expression and you couldn't help but frown. 

“Okay, that’d be quite funny.” Ria’s laugh suddenly bit the air, and you had to silently thank her for subverting the attention elsewhere for a moment.

“I wouldn’t do that for no one, especially not for Lando. Are you sure you don’t like him y/n?” You knew Niran was joking but god did his comment make your hands sweat. Calm down.

Max shrugged, ignoring the remarks of his fellow Quadrant members. “Rules are rules, can’t eat your way out of the last question, you have to answer.”

You have to think fast. “...Okay, well…" Hm. "How about this?” It’s the only thing you could think of on the fly, but maybe it’ll work. “I’ll tell you the details, but- I won’t mention any names. So you get to know the whens and what’s, without knowing the who’s." Your laugh was light hearted, though it sounded more nervous than humorous.

A silence suddenly engulfed the room, eyes darting back and forth as the people on the table thought over the offer. In fact the room was so silent, you felt you could hear the gears turning in their heads and you couldn’t help but feel your heart rate speed up just a little more at the prospect. These people were essentially marketing geniuses. They were youtubers whose jobs it was to get as many views as possible. Whatever the decision, you knew it wasn’t about to be in your favor, but about what favored Quadrant as a brand. You were no good at marketing - you drove fast cars even faster for god sake, but damn if you didn’t hope your idea was good enough for them. 

Ginge’s voice was the first to sound. “Nah, nah, stop trying to change the conversation speedy gonzales, you think ‘cause you’re a bloody F1 driver you can- you can bend the rules!? It may slide over there princess but it ain’t gonna slide ‘ere.” His finger pointed down into the table with a glare that almost felt real and you were really trying to think but now you were laughing. 

So was everyone else apparently, because it took you a moment to hear Steve’s smooth voice through all the noise, “Alright, but we’re already putting the girl through a lot.” Then finally Max spoke again. He was really starting to feel like the governing power here, “Okay hear me out. Names are easy to find when you have a story. We get the story and then we evaluate.” His eyes bore directly at you, laughing as he spoke. Max knew with whatever story you told, he could just go right to Lando and together they could eventually connect the dots. He wasn’t trying to out you to everyone… just to Lando.

After a moment of deliberation Aarav spoke, “All agreed?” To which everyone seemed to nod in agreement.

Max nodded his head. “Alright Y/n, you win. In that case, this guy you like-” 

“-I don’t like him-” “-How long are we talking?... This guy you like.” The last comment had a playful laugh leaving your lips as you brought your nail to your mouth. He was purposefully pushing your buttons.

Your lips, previously curled into a smile, had now pursed at the question. “I don’t like him.” You reiterate. “It was like a small little crush if anything.”

“Was it recent?” Max questioned. “No, god it was years ago.”

Beep. Fuck, you completely forgot about the Polygraph. You could ring that stupid things neck. Come on, man throw me a bone or something. Max smiled at the revelation, glancing over at Ria as she spoke through her smirk. “Must be more than just a small little crush if your heart beat is rising at the thought of him.” To this, your head hung low as your laugh sounded. “I plead the fifth.”

You couldn’t even imagine how you would look to any viewers at home once this came out. They had well and truly cornered you here. 

“Well this isn’t a bloody democracy now is it, this is an ambush.” You're very right Ginge this really is an ambush, you thought. There might be no escaping this one.

“When did you first notice you liked this person?” Ria was determined to keep the conversion on track. This is the most anyone had ever gotten out of you regarding your love life, and it being about another driver? Potentially Lando?! They were so close to what they wanted. You were silent for a moment, assessing the people staring on with anticipation. You’d only ever told this story to two people, your mom and your best friend. Were you really about to expose it to the world? The polygraph strapped to your chest said you were. 

“I-... I first felt it a couple years back.”

Compliance. They got you.

“How far back we talking?” Max questioned.

“I don’t know…” your eyes flickered up at him. “Maybe early F2 days?” Ria’s eyes just about bugged out of her head as you answered, hands coming down onto the table with a gasp. “That’s like over 5 years ago!” Her reaction had you groaning, face turning a shade red enough to match the ferraris you race against as you sunk down into your seat. “Now I need to know! There had to have been a moment where you felt it! Because you had been racing with these boys for years! There has to be a moment of clarity, or was it like, progressive? Or-?”

“It- It was definitely progressive in some ways but I do remember the moment it kind of.. hit me.”

“Was it sudden?”

“So sudden.” You laughed. “Tell us!” It felt strange to engage in this conversation, you had sworn to yourself that no one else would ever hear about the feelings you had buried away for years now. Was it better to speak or to die? That truly was the question… But, It was out now, everyone knew you had feelings for one of your teammates; at least one of your F2 ones. What more harm could the details afflict? Besides you’d raced against a multitude of drivers in your F2 career, many of which never even made it to the current F1 grid so the chances of anyone guessing who you were even talking about had to be slim. Speak it was. 

“We were-” The observant eyes of the Quadrant members beamed on at you as you bit your lip in deliberation, but the debate in your brain was finally over, and so you took a breath in.

“We were in between seasons beforehand, so I hadn’t really seen the boys in a few months. And I remember walking into one of the common rooms, where a bunch of the boys were all sitting around before the race, and again, I hadn’t seen these boys for quite a bit.” Your hands moved with every word you spoke, “And the thing about the F2 is that, we were all about 17 to 18 right, so most of the boys had already had their growth spurts, puberty and all that… except for this one guy.” Your eyes were bright as you recalled the memory, a laugh chasing the ends of your lips as the table fell silent.

“And at this rate - in my 17 year old brain - the only thing that ever really mattered to me was racing. Like I could genuinely have cared less about boys and relationships and all that, I’d never had a boyfriend and I was so disinterested in it. To me these boys were my friends off track and my competitors on, nothing in between. So I remember seeing everyone I hadn't seen for while and not really thinking much of it. But then my eyes kind of looked on and… noticed.. him.” God that sounds so corny but you were trying to be inconspicuous, not give away too many details. It wasn’t working.

“Him?” Max smirked. 

“Him.”  You doubled down. “The person.” You glared as a light laugh sounded. “He had always been a bit more on the smaller side, I guess? A 'late bloomer.'” The phrase came to you. “And I don’t know what the fuck happened in those four months we were away but god did puberty hit that motherfucker like a truck.” This time the laughter was a lot louder and you leant back, suddenly a little more comfortable now that the weight had been lifted off your chest. “It was like, he had gone from this scrawny little kid everyone used to pick on to this… man in the blink of an eye and my brain could not comprehend it.”

“Moment of clarity.” Ria laughed and you laughed alongside her.

“No really! Like that’s really what it felt like. I remember hugging everyone because I hadn’t seen them in so long, but when it came to this guy, I just, like- stared and nodded at him and he gave me the weirdest look cause I'd never done that before!” Your voice was thick with embarrassment as you chuckled, and everyone joined in your laughter. Then you stuck up your pointer finger. “But it gets worse.” You swallowed. “So my brain’s already kind of short circuiting in that moment and I guess he thought my odd behavior just wasn't worth his time because then he just goes on, puts his hands down and takes off his shirt-”

“What?!” Ethan yelled. 

“Because we were racing soon and they always would! They would change around the paddock all the time! It’s so normal, they still do it, and I never, ever thought anything of it, like it never phased me. But this one time, when he just lifted his shirt over his head and I was already feeling things I’d never felt before, I was already confused, and oh my god. I don’t know what happened to me.”

Once again the table was booming with laughter. “No, it was so bad. Definitely one of my worst moments. It got to the point where one of the other boys; no names - had to smack me alongside the head and tell me to stop glaring.”

Max’s eyes lit up as he heard the last part. “Wait, people noticed?” “Not people, just the one, I think. If anyone else did, they never said anything.”

“Huh.” Max nodded. “And you don’t feel this way anymore?”

The word came without hesitance, “No,” you shook your head.

Beep.

Max had just found his jackpot moment. He had the information he needed.

What a week it had been. Between the guilt of Austria, the subsequent frantic Mclaren schedule leading up to Silverstone and the stress of the Quadrant video, Lando felt he could truly take his first breath of fresh air knowing at least one of those problems was officially resolved. 

The day was nearing its end meaning you were probably just about done filming with his crew and were likely headed back to the hotel for some well deserved rest before a hectic day of simulation practice and debriefing tomorrow.

He knows he has already done it 1000 times over, but he really needed to thank you for the favor you did him this week. No matter how much you spoke of all free time you had, he knew you were really just as busy with race prep, it wasn’t the simple ‘schedule squeeze’ you had made it out to be and he was more than grateful.

“What time did you say Y/n was coming back?” Charles’ voice rang loud throughout the room as his eyes flickered up from his phone. A few of the drivers had decided to spend a not so usual night in Max's hotel room sharing a few drinks. Camaraderie and all that, especially after the tension of last week.

“She should be finishing up now.”

“Is she coming back here?” Charles continued, still glancing between his phone and Lando’s eyes, fingers tapping briskly over the screen. 

“I’m not sure, I haven’t spoken to her. Why?” Landos eyebrows furrowed down as he asked. 

“Nothing, Alex was asking, that's all. I think she was going to stop by if so but I’ll tell her don’t worry.” To this Lando hummed. As much as he hoped you would stop by - hoped you would have a few drinks with them because you always got a little touchy and so much more bold with your advances when you did (and he’d be completely lying if he said he didn’t love it everytime) - he also knew how exhausting a day of filming was. Further, he knew his friends, and as much as he had scolded them - put them through the ringer about not messing with you, he knew them well enough to know they would do it anyways. You would probably go straight back to the room, and while he understood, he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

Distracted with his thoughts of you, he had almost missed the buzzing of his phone on the table besides the couch armrest he had been leaning against, if it hadn’t been for Carlos’ voice breaking the trail his mind was wandering. “Lando compadre, your phone.”

Snapping his eyes to the side, Lando quickly reached out and turned it over to see Max Fewtrell's name splayed across the screen. And being too lazy to pick up the phone and assuming he was just calling to assure him that filming went well, he swiped his finger across the screen and pressed the speaker button to talk.

“Yeah mate, how’d it go?”

“She has feelings for a driver.” 

Woah. No hello, no how are you, not even a build up to the revelation? It felt as if the world had stopped spinning as every single person in the room froze to look back at Lando with wide eyes.

“W-What?” Landos heart felt still in his chest as he spoke.

“We got her to talk about her relationships on the grid-”

“-You dickhead! I told you not to-”

“-I know you told us not to push her, but It wasn’t me!”

“You’re telling me she just admitted that on her own?” Landos voice was laced with sarcasm, a scoff of knowing disbelief leaving his throat. Bullshit.

“No! … Ria did it.”

“Max you muppet, she was doing me a favor! She probably hates me now.” Lando sighed into his hands before peaking through his fingers to glance around. All three boys; Charles, Carlos and Verstappen all had their heads turned towards the phone with wide eyes. 

“Well, that’s the thing,” Max laughed. “Maybe not! She said there was a driver she had a crush on during her formula 2 days, she wouldn’t admit who and when we asked if she still liked them she said no, but the buzzer went off. She was lying, Lando.” The silence in the room seemed deathly thick as the words left Fewtrells mouth, the three other boys blinking at the words they were hearing. They were sure to be experiencing the same emotions Lando himself had been. Shock, confusion, maybe a little intrigue. The boys had been teasing you for years about your relationship status. You had been single for so long, yet constantly surrounded by men so it was inevitable that the conversations would arise; you had to like someone. Nevertheless, you always stood firm, exclaiming that always being around the boys just made it even easier not to. 

After years of the same answers, with absolutely no indication to suggest otherwise, it was hard not to believe the words you spoke. And when you started dating your then boyfriend a few years ago - now ex, thank god for Lando - and bringing him around the paddock; a random guy none of the boys knew very well, the teasing well and truly died down. You really didn’t like anyone on the grid.

But now here they were hearing that the years of teasing, the years of questions, of loud drunken debates and near screaming matches had all been in effort to hide the truth they all suspected. A truth you had been hiding for over 5 years apparently.

The silence must have stuck out to Max Fewtrell beyond the phone, as he seemed to continue talking in the absence of a response. “Here’s what we managed to get out of her. He was an F2 driver that raced with her. She was close to him because he was one of the first people she saw after off season. She had raced with him before, so it wasn’t a new driver. And get this, he was a ‘late bloomer'- was one of the smallest in the comp before he shot up.”

Suddenly it was as if the gears were beginning to turn in Lando’s head, and he couldn’t help but pick up on the obvious smile Fewtrell definitely wore behind the phone. A late bloomer? There weren't many of those by the time they had reached Formula 2, and if there was one thing Lando was, it was a late bloomer. And it seemed everyone else had put the same cogs together, because now all the boys seated around were looking at him with sly smirks and cocked brows. 

God, there was no way. Not a single chance! Lando had spent the past however many years of his life stumbling after this girl, chasing your shadow in hopes for just a single moment of something more between you. That you would glance at him from a distance for as long as he did you, yearn to talk to him as much as he did you, sit up and think about him as often as he did you. He had liked you for as long as he could remember, and while he admits it may have been more akin to puppy love back in his teen years, that innocent crush quickly developed into something so much more intense as he got to be close to you. He wasn’t really afraid to admit he had feelings for you, and while he's never really said it out loud, he also made no attempts to hide it either, and it quickly became obvious to all your mutual friends that he liked you. 

The two youngest single people on the paddock that grew up together, now teammates, who were forced to be around each other everyday but somehow were still never apart, even when it wasn’t required, together anyway. Except one was obviously in love and the other would never like a driver, personal life and professional life were strictly separate.

Beep. Lies. 

Fuck, no, he couldn’t get his hopes up like this. It’s something, but it also doesn't really mean anything.

“Okay but, there were a lot of damn drivers on the f2 grid. There were a few late bloomers, and she was friends with plenty of the other guys that never made it to Formula 1. She- she could be talking about a lot of people.”

“You didn’t think I'd call you with all this doubt, Bob?” Max’s voice was smug and mischievous and Lando couldn’t help but wince at the dumb nickname. “Respect my name. I wouldn’t leave without something to attest. Apparently she was caught staring at the guy by another driver. Another driver knows, or at least they noticed.”

“F2 years you said?” Verstappen's voice rang loud, it almost made Lando jump from the change in bass. 

“That’s what y/n said.”

Verstappen's eyes seem harsh as his brows move down to come over his lids. “Coming back from the off season?”

“...Yeah?” Fewtrell agrees. 

In the blink of an eye Verstappen’s tense face had quickly fallen into a bright and humorous expression, eyes squinting tight as his head fell back in a loud laugh, “Oh my god!” 

“What?” Lando questions.

“Oh my god, Lando, It’s you!”

A chorus of ‘what’s’, and ‘huh’s’ course the room as Max leans over to give Lando an exhilarated slap on the back of the neck. Lando’s eyes are wide as he leans forward in a wince. Though, wether he was wincing at Max’s sudden motion or the revelation he’d just been subjected to, he wasn’t sure. You? Liking him?!

“It was me who noticed!” His laugh boomed as he spoke. “I remember it because I thought it was funny at the time, and for a while after it I thought she might have liked you because it was so unlike her. But she kept denying ever liking anyone and then she showed up with that prick of a boyfriend after that and I just let it go. I always knew it was something!” Max’s voice went raspy as he spoke in a loud, joyful tone, he was no doubt excited at the news. He loved you and wanted to help you wherever he could. And though he would never say it out loud, watching Lando pine over you; the way he cared for you, the way he would defend you when the media had negative things to say; he did think Lando would be a good match for you. 

Now, Lando on the other hand, Lando’s mind was a whirlwind of emotions as he struggled to conceptualize the bomb that had just been dropped over him. He had spent so long pining after you, thinking you saw him as nothing more than just a teammate or worse, just a friend. The idea of you possibly liking him back was a concept he had spent night dreaming of yet never did he think the day would actually come. He was so unconvinced of it ever happening he almost felt unprepared, unsure of what to do or how to act now. Yet, here it was. The room seemed to buzz with a newfound energy, the boys' playful teasing barely registering as he tried to wrap his head around the idea.

"Lando, you okay?" Carlos asked, his voice softer than usual, breaking through Lando's thoughts.

Lando blinked, looking up to see the concerned yet amused faces of his friends. "Yeah, just... processing."

“She likes you mate!” His best friend's words sounded unreal to him. You like him. You like him too. All this time trying to form something with you, not realizing what you already had.

Crashing that goddamn car may have been the best fucking thing that's ever happened to him.

If he’d known this would have been the outcome of DNFing he’d have sent his car straight into the track barrier years ago. Sacrificing pole position if he had to.

He truly thought nothing could have taken him away from this moment, not a single other thing could pull him back from his thoughts of you. Nothing except you. And the sound of his phone beeping with the tone of an incoming call really did pull him back to reality. Because it was you. You were calling!

The boys incessant chatter had immediately come to a halt as Lando shot up. “She’s calling!” His head turning left to right as he frantically looked around at the boys around him. “She’s calling, what do I do?”

Fewtrell’s voice couldn't have come through any clearer. “Answer you knob!”

And so he did. He analyzed the buttons and clicked the one that ended the call with Max and sent it straight over to you instead. 

His heart stuttered as the line went silent, anticipation pulsing through every inch of his veins. The boys sat back in their seats, eagerly eavesdropping on a conversation that could potentially bring a whole new meaning to the word WAG. But Lando didn’t care, more so he didn’t notice, he truthfully had been so sucked in by the letters of your name he forgot the boys were even there. 

What was he even supposed to say? You didn’t know what he knew, maybe he shouldn’t have answered. And yet he found his voice shakily as his teeth clasped his bottom lip.

“Hello?” His breath stuttered as he spoke, and the line sat silent for just a moment too long for Lando’s liking. Y/n? “Lando, you owe me so bad!”

[nxuvillette]

"I THINK YOU DESERVE A PROMOTION"

ASSISTANT HEADCANONS W/ GENSHIN MEN

synopsis: becoming an assistant for your hot boss is a dream come true, no? it sounds even better when you both are up to things that might land you a promotion.

❥- including : cyno, neuvillette, baizhu, wriothesley

❥- note : aaaa! my first post! i’m super nervous but i hope you all enjoy <3 reblogs are appreciated!!

content warnings : nsfw [17+], fem!assistant!reader, ageless + blank blogs dni, office sex (cyno , wriothesley), creampie (all), car sex (neuvillette), mentions of food (neuvillette), mentions of medications (baizhu), brief spanking (baizhu), use of pet names (good girl , baby , darling, pretty girl), brief dacryphillia (wriothesley), belly bulge (wriothesley), public sex (baizhu).

♡ CYNO

you were just supposed to be revising some documents for your boss, cyno. after all, he had a meeting had to attend not even thirty minutes from the current time. you thought it would be simple enough, right? this wasn’t the first time he had asked you to do such a thing for him, but what was going on was something that wasn’t exactly professional.

cyno had you bent over his creaking desk. his hand was lying against your hip while he rutted himself into your squelching cunt that was squeezing him so perfectly he thought he would cum the moment he pushed into you. you were just too hard to resist with your cute black mini skirt that showed a little too much of your thighs. you were just too pretty. how could he possibly stop himself from completely ravaging your cunt?

“ah..! cyno, please..!” your cries echoed across the room, making him shove his fingers into your mouth to make you quiet down. the last thing he wanted was for someone to hear him fucking the absolute shit out of his assistant. 

he leaned towards your ear, his breath fanning against the shell. “better keep quiet.. or else i’ll stop right now and leave you wondering what might have happened..” he whispered, which earned goosebumps to litter your delicate skin.

cyno’s pace began to suddenly quicken. he could feel himself growing closer to his orgasm. his cock twitched inside of you and that delicious high he had been chasing finally came over him. his cum seeped into your womb, filling you completely. you took it so nicely. it took everything in him to not want to go for round two. 

he pulled out, adjusting his pants and leaving a small kiss on your cheek. “get dressed.. we still have a meeting.” he said, heading towards the door.

♡ NEUVILLETTE

being tasked with picking up lunch for the office sounded like a simple enough task. neuvillette had even offered to go with you so you didn’t have to carry all of the food items by yourself, so you happily agreed since he was your boss. he also drove so you didn’t have to use your own vehicle to transfer everything over.

it was fine, up until you both arrived into the parking lot of your office building.

your thighs were on either side of neuvillette’s lap. his thick cock was bullying your walls, reaching the most sensitive spots inside of your pussy. you hadn’t expected such a scene to unfold, but there was just way too much tension circling between you both to just leave the car without anything happening. 

“n-neuvillette! ‘so good.. fuck!” you sobbed into his shoulder when you felt his thumb toying with your puffy clit. 

neuvillette’s thrusts were erratic. he craved you for so fucking long that he wasn’t about to let the opportunity to fuck your brains out slip through his grasp. after all, you were his gorgeous assistant that he just couldn’t help but sneak glances at. “keep going, just like that, darling. fuck.. you take me so well..” he cooed, grunting a bit as your cunt squeezed his cock with such delight.

his arms went to snake around your waist. his pace became brutally quick as his high slowly crept upon him. all he wanted was you in that very moment. 

he practically growled when his orgasm washed over him. his body trembled and he squeezed your ass hard enough to possibly leave a mark on your pretty skin. you were a complete mess and you weren’t sure how you were supposed to walk into the office afterwards.

♡ BAIZHU

becoming an assistant for a well known pharmacist was like a dream come true. he was a great boss, and you honestly hoped to become like him someday when you finally became a pharmacist for your own company. baizhu was truly great at his work.

he sent you on the way to fetch a prescription that was specifically just for him. this wasn’t an unusual occurrence since baizhu had some underlying illnesses that needed certain medications to treat, but you weren’t anticipating that something like this would be occurring instead of him taking his meds.

baizhu had you pressed against the wall. his cock was buried inside of your dripping pussy. you were both trying your best to remain quiet as your other coworkers were around making prescriptions for the other customers. you couldn’t deny that you and baizhu had thrown a few flirty comments towards one another. you just remained professionally due to the fact that he was in fact your higher up.

the tension eventually snapped, and you two pounced on one another. he pushed you into the closet and made your body burn with passion. “baizhu..! o-oh, god..” you whined, arching your back against his body. he was just too damn good.

he chuckled, dragging his fingertips along your flesh. he was honestly playing such a dangerous game right now. it was almost as if he was itching to make you cry out his name. “heh.. you’re such a pretty girl.. i never thought you would feel this great..” he smacked your ass harshly, making you wince from the contact of his palm.

his grunts began to increase in volume and his grip on your body had become much tighter. the way his balls slapped against your clit sent waves of pleasure over your body. you gasped as that white hot knot inside of you finally snapped, allowing your orgasm to fully pass over you. it was also at that moment baizhu finally came, letting his cum fill your walls. 

the two of you both were completely messy and there was this lingering odor of sex that was wafting around the room. baizhu only laughed at your fucked out state. “you did great.. maybe i’ll promote you full time, hm?” 

♡ WRIOTHESLEY

you were asked by your boss wriothesley to stay after hours to work on some other paperwork that needed to be done before the next week. it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to ask you for such a request. plus, you were being paid overtime for doing it, so why the hell not? 

however, your extra work wasn’t exactly what you thought it was going to be.

you were lying flat on your back with wriothesley thrusting himself into you. all of the papers that were on his desk were now scattered around and pushed over so you wouldn’t possibly ruin them. he was so big. wriothesley could see a little bulge every time he pushed himself into you. he thought it was so cute. you sprawled out on his desk with your pussy clamped around his big dick. your moans were the best part. there was no one around, so you could be as loud as you wanted without a single interruption.

“w-wriothesley! f-fuck.. you’re so big!” tears formed at your lash line from how intense the pleasure was. you hadn’t felt something like this in such a long time. it was unbearable.

he couldn’t hide the smirk that appeared on his scarred features. he couldn’t get enough of your sweet voice screaming in pleasure for just him. “you like this, baby? you’re so fuckin’ cute when you say my name like that..” he pressed his palm against your navel, feeling his cock stuffing you full. “so deep.. no wonder you’re a mess.”

his balls twitched, signaling that his orgasm was just around the corner. his pace then picked up, sending you over the edge. he was probably the best you had ever taken. there was no way you could ever sleep with someone else better than him. a groan rumbled in his throat as he reached his peak, squeezing your hips as his cum flooded your walls. he left so much, it made you shiver from the warmth.

he panted, chuckling as he came down from his orgasm. “heh.. we’re still alone, wanna go for round two?” 

© NXUVILLETTE ┆ all rights reserved, do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

[thebubblesareevil]

Only the best Kings wear pink! Pt 1

Pt 2

Danny had decided, inter-lair political party meeting briefings were a truly underutilized form of torture that he personally thought should be inflicted upon only the worst kinds of criminals; not your King.

Fright Knight disagreed.

At least he finally let him move around instead of suffering through forced resurrection via boredom (it’s happened before, not a fun meeting). That being said, he would admit to being a little distracted by all the servants rushing around frantically. It had even managed to distract Fright.

No one seemed panicked so clearly it wasn’t an attack, but what….

Danny felt someone staring at him. He covertly nodded to Fright to keep talking as he created an invisible clone to search for his stalker.

He didn’t have to look far, they weren’t hiding very well. Not 20 ft away a young ghost gawked at him from behind a column. She had her glowing blonde hair in 2 braided pigtails and her ragged dress looked like she came from one of the medieval lairs. Danny carefully kneeled down, trying to make himself look small as he tapped her on the shoulder.

The little girl spun around, clearly terrified at being caught. Danny gave her a soft smile.

“Please don’t eat me Mr Ghost King sir!!!” She cried out.

Danny snorted and burst out laughing. His booming laughter echoed though the castle walls causing many of the servants to pause in their search.

“Now why in the realms would you think I’m going to eat you?!” Danny asked though his chuckles. “You wouldn’t be more than a bite full at best.” He poked her sides causing her to giggle.

“Would too! I’m bigger the Sally!” She paused, rethinking her words. “But I’d taste quite foul! I would, I swear!”

Danny grinned turning to Fright Knight. The little ghost squeaked when she saw the Spirit of Halloween and backed into the King causing her to freeze.

Danny gently picked her up, cradling her in one arm. “Did you hear that Fright?! She said she’d taste foul!” He smirked “I suppose there’s only one thing to do then!”

Fright Knight eyed his King a bit warily, still not used to his antics. “Sire?”

Danny grinned, motioning to one of the nervous maids. “We‘ll have to sweeten her up!”

Miette bowed before her King, trying to hide her nervous glances at the girl.

“Miette! Would you be a dear and prepare some sweets and tea in the garden for my honored guest? Fright, will you be joining us?” Danny asked the startled Knight.

“As you wish my Liege, though…might I request some pumpkin pie?” He asked Miette.

The maid blinked at the request.

“Of course Sir Fright.” She answered a bit dazed.

“Wonderful! We’ll meet you in the garden after we swing by Spectre’s quarters.” He grinned down at the frightened ghost. “Every princess must look her best for afternoon tea after all!”

The little girl frowned. “But I’m not a princess?” She said, tilting her head.

“Of course you are! Every little girl is a princess! That’s just a fact of life.” Danny nodded solemnly.

“But we’re not alive?” She pouted “Mummy said so!”

Danny shrugged. “That doesn’t change much, I’m still alive after all so it still counts.” He said finally.

They stopped in front of two massive doors covered in random drawing. Danny knocked on the door. The little ghost shrunk back in Danny’s arms.

The door opened to reveal a young ghost, not much bigger than the one in his arms.

“Hey Ellie!” Danny grinned. “Do you have any princess dresses left or did you set them all on fire?”

Ellie groaned. “Lilac just restocked the closet. You’d think she’d learn by now.”

Danny grinned. “Perfect! Would you mind helping our guest into one of them? She’s joining us for tea!”

Ellie floated up to see the tiny ghost trying to make herself smaller in her dad’s arms.

“Oh? And who are you?” She asked curiously.

“Emma.” She squeaked. Ellie grinned.

“Alright Emma, how do you feel about pink?!”

———

A little while latter you could find the Ghost King: ruler of the infinite realms, Fright Knight: the most feared general of the Kings legion and little Emma: the little princess from 2 Lairs over (only on the 5th of each month); newly decked out in a glowing tiara and the frilliest pink dress Ellie could find (with no singes); all sitting in the Royal gardens in Phantoms keep debating the merits of pink sparkles vs rainbow glitter.

Her mother nearly wept in relief that her daughter was safe, though she was a bit dazed by what she was seeing.

“You must be Emma’s mum!” Danny grinned. “We were just finishing up afternoon tea.

Emma jumped from her seat and raced over to her mummy to tell her all about her day.

“I’m so sorry for my daughter’s intrusion, your majesty!” She cried out, fear outweighing shock as she quickly bowed.

“Nonsense!” Danny laughed, looking down at Emma. “You’re welcome here anytime Emma. After all, you never did tell me what happened to you Aunt Agatha.” He smiled “You’ll have to finish your story next time.”

Emma ran up to give Danny a hug, he happily picked her up and held the young ghost.

“Thank you for the tea and cakes Mr ghost king! Can I bring Beatrice next time? She’ll never believe me otherwise!”

Danny chuckled. “The more the merrier, though I suggest you give your mother some proper warning before you run off to strange lairs without permission.”

Emma pouted. “I promise!” She swore as Danny handed her to her mother.

Danny was a little sad to see the little girl go but he had plenty of work to do.

“Sire, shall we continue the briefing?” Fright Knight piped up.

Danny groan, Fright Knight grinned. (He liked his new king)

———

The next month, when the lairs lined up once more Danny was greeted with the grinning Emma, the frightened faces of at least 6 other little ghosts and the nervous form of Emma’s mother.

Danny grinned. “Miette!” He shouted behind him. “Can you bring some more tables to the gardens. It looks like we’re having a proper tea party this time!”

And so began to annual monthly tea party at Phantom’s keep.

(Lilac was so glad to see all the dresses she made put to good use)

[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

OK Guys. I get the skepticism esp after the Knuckles disaster, but we also need to keep in mind "this is a trailer that won't spoil literally everything about the movie." ESPECIALLY in regards to GUN. They're not gonna put in the trailer "the military shot a little girl and that's why Shadow is mad so Sonic is going to never work with them ever." That's a great way to get parents to bring their kids to the theater, especially in America. (/s)

It's WAY more effective as a plot twist halfway through, where Sonic thinks that he's finally being accepted onto Earth via working with the government only to find out that they're exploiting him and Shadow the same. I can't guarantee this is gonna happen obviously but it's like a 90% chance just knowing how, like. writing works.

Esp considering the government has not had a good track record in the last two movies, I dunno if they'd do a heel-face turn into "actually they were always right" in the movie where a little girl needs to get shot by the government.

And I'm not gonna say "trust and form a parasocial relationship with a film director" but we should keep in mind that Jeff Fowler got his start working on Shadow's title game and has stated in interviews that he understands how important Shadow's backstory is to his character. Not to mention how the internet has been exploding the last two years with enthusiasm over this story actually getting shown onscreen, enough that a studio would fucking notice at the very least that this is what the people want. I can't guarantee they'll actually listen, but saying that they're absolutely not because "Sonic was in a GUN helicopter in the trailer" is insane. Especially with the fact that GUN is not with Sonic when he goes to Eggman. We just see Team Sonic alone meeting with Stone, and I will bet you it's because there's no way in hell GUN would let them near him, what with the Robotnik connections to the ARK.

Also the Gerald thing is rather worrying, esp with the lack of shit they gave Pachacamac in the miniseries, but honestly I think that was just a marketing push of "Jim Carrey will be playing TWO characters!!!" Considering he's only seen in one trailer scene AT the ARK (where all of Gerald's technology was and, more importantly, where the Eclipse cannon he needs someone to set off is) AND we know from movie 2's credits scene that there was a fifty-year timeskip, I severely doubt that's the real Gerald who's just completely unaffected by his granddaughter being murdered.

And ofc there's things to be concerned about in the trailer. The lack of Rouge for instance– I obviously keep posting my theory that Krysten Ritter's character will be her undercover but the fact we don't know how much time she'd actually have with Shadow, if at ALL, is worrying. The fact that Rouge might not be here period. The weird pacing of the Knuckles show and the fear that could bleed over into the movie. But there's also stuff to get excited about– the epic fight scene choreography, the brief glimpse we got of Maria and Shadow's bond. Reeves's voice actually fits Shadow and at least from what the trailer showed us it looks like the Green Hills storyline is taking a backseat to the action and mystery of Project Shadow.

tl;dr guys calm down for like five minutes. if the movie sucks in december we can riot then. right now let's just band together against mufasa

[anonymous-existences]

DCxDP Prompt 10 :

Death Defying Ship. Danny and Dick are childhood friends where the Fenton's would often bring Danny and Jazz to the circus to hang out with their old friends the Graysons, where Danny and Dick are very close and do dumb kid stuff but jazz is there to watch them so they won't get into too much trouble when the parents aren't looking.

In there Danny learns from the Graysons some basic Gymnastics and Dances that require two people and all that brings them all closer.

Dick and Danny lost touch after the tragic incident with the Graysons, Many years later the story progresses as usual. Danny moves to Gotham to pursue his pursuit in getting a Professional Engineering Recommendation to W.E. with a Bonus Dani that appears every so Often and Dan a normal Mechanic that's acting as his older brother.

Sam Manson happens to be once again forced to attend a gala but this Wayne Gala was Unique because of it's setting as a Masquerade Ball. Sam is thrilled as she can add spice to her gothic aesthetic clothing with a more gothic mask, Danny is being dragged along as because of BFF code, (if I get to suffer, you suffer too.) thus Danny is also wearing an almost as gothic clothing that matches Sam.

Dick and Danny meet there but ofcourse they don't recognize each other, a specific song plays and Dick ever so playful tries to dance a specific routine that only He and Danny knows as they both made it as kids with the help of Jazz. Dick is surprised that Danny is keeping up, Danny is ecstatic and pacing faster as both are in full rhythm and sync in movements.

They don't even realize it but they've become the center of attention as they danced right in the middle of the ballroom. The song comes to a halt and Danny and Dick are breathing heavily, both smiling in excitement until Sam grabs Danny in a headlock and drags him away, scolding him for ditching her for another man.

Dick tries to stop them but was immediately blocked by many who wanted to converse or get his attention as he loses sight of Danny in the crowd of people.

Danny and Dick only ever meet in a gala but something keeps pulling them away from each other, both unable to get each other's names, Dick is totally mesmerized by Danny just as much as Danny is too. Sam finally tells him at some point that he's Dick Grayson. Danny's memories of their past flooding in but Danny didn't want to tell Dick about that because what if dick doesn't remember? What if he asked Dick and he didn't remember him? So Danny kept quiet until he can finally give Dick his name but that moment never came.

Danny is forced to go back to Amity because of the GIW and their Plan to once again destroy the Ghost Zone and Declare War, Danny is captured by the GIW and Sam in desperation with Tucker finally found a way to bypass the GIW firewalls and Break through to connect to the JL.

In the process of saving the captures ghosts with the help of the Justice League in infiltrating and dismantling the Anti Ecto Laws for going against the Meta Protection Rights. Dick doesn't recognize Danny as Phantom, they save him and all that process through Frostbite's help.

Jazz immediately recognizes Dick even as Nightwing and calls him 'Robin' and Dick immediately recognizes her because she is the big sister he always had and wished he kept. Jazz doesn't blow his Identity as expected but she does tell him about Danny as Phantom and Dick as A Wayne once again is processing all of those information in the Manor, Jazz had reassured them that Danny would visit at some point once he is fully healed and Dick waits everyday, waiting for Danny to call or text him that he'll visit.

Dick realizes he's fallen deep in love with Danny with his desperation and also everytime they've met and interacted with each other even for brief moments in the galas they've attended. Danny become the sole reason he'll force himself to attend a gala as he wanted to see the man, his best friend and his first love.

Danny eventually visits Dick and from then you can tell the story goes that way, it's sweet fluff with angst and Dick and Danny gets their happy ending.

[satoruhour]

Accidentally sending gojo a nude and before you can properly apologise he sends a video of his own which leads to..well🫣

BABY BLUE SWEETNESS

a/n: my clit grew hands and wrote this. combined this w/ a part 2 of being gojo’s roommate / tagging @jabamin @hyomagiri @utahimeow @lov3rbody my gojo fuckers

wc: 3.7k (I HAVE GOT TO STOP WRITING SM ....)

warnings: mutual pining, roommate!gojo, dom!gojo, he gets rough but only bc he loves ur pussy sssoooo much, sending nudes by accident to gojo, semi-public m! masturbation, filming (on gojo’s end), pet names, praise, slight f! masturbation, oral / cunnilingus, nipple play, bit of dialogue during sex, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink (twice!), multiple rounds, implied m! oral, n*sfw under the cut

the next week goes by uneventfully.

but you think there’s hardly anything worth happening when you hadn’t even said anything about that: standing outside satoru’s room, hearing his pleasured moans along with the slickness of his hand on his cock and watching him at his most vulnerable with whispers of your name.

gojo did have a few moments of weakness — brief bouts of failing to meet your eyes, stuttering, but he was still predominantly himself after, throwing laundry on the floor and leaving the toilet paper roll unfilled. by date, he was the messiest roommate you’ve roomed with, compared to sleeping over at shoko’s and geto’s places before; sure it was obvious enough being friends with him since high school, though you hadn’t thought that the rowdy, outgoing way that he spoke would translate into his living space, too.

and despite being the one who has the upper hand that very day you decided to stop and watch, he still manages to have some sort of hold on you, catching you off-guard at the worst times.

“any luck with the mods?” gojo peeks over at your laptop over at the small dining table, your leg propped up and a scowl on your face at how you were still on the waitlist. while mr. perfect beside you has gotten every module he’s bidded for, a course on philosophy, romantic and 20th century music as well as an online mod about ethics.

“i don’t even know why you got that last one! funny how the most annoying person who has anything but morals is entering an ethics course.” maybe it was the fact that you’ve already waited one and a half weeks. perhaps it was that one piece of clothing gojo loved to leave on the floor, or simply it was just because of the man himself — you were on your wit’s end with the week.

that fades away when you’re turning your head and gojo is right there, hovering over your computer screen with a sly smirk on his face and his stupid bright, blue eyes that you could spend hours staring at.

“you wound me, baby,” gojo whispers, like it was a secret between the two of you and he pulls away, both hearts beating an unnatural speed at the proximity. gojo swears to himself he’ll never call you anything close to that or be that close because it’s absolutely not good for his heaving chest and hardening dick — those pretty plump lips of yours and the innocent look on your face — he wanted to both kiss it and fuck it.

and yet, on dormitory movie nights where you’re sat on both ends of the couch with geto and shoko between the two of you, satoru wills himself to patiently wait until the end of the first movie to stretch his limbs and get more snacks; he knows you’ll follow, too, because it’s been like that for as long as he can remember.

“you know you have to stop eating all that candy, right?” you’re saying it mindlessly, pouring more chips into a bowl and getting the hummus and guac, “it’s not healthy.”

gojo’s leaning on the counter and doesn’t help whatsoever, both elbows on the wood and head tipped back to meet your height.

“aw, is my cute roomie worried about me?” you almost want to ignore him with that little compliment, not sure if he even meant it, but you’re leaning into him this time with a little glance down to his lips that he thinks he imagined it.

“no, just wondering how embarrassed i’ll be when i have to tell the paramedics that when you finally collapse on the floor, it was because my dumb roommate had consumed too much sugar.” you like this little game you play with satoru, yet you’ve never been this bold; maybe it’s because you know he finds you hot, too, but the two of you are too stubborn to stand your ground and admit the obvious.

gojo’s feigned pout spreads into a grin and simply blows a raspberry at your explanation. there’s a crinkle of yet another sweet packet, disregarding your chastise from earlier. “smart little thing, hm?”

“i become the brightest when you’re involved,” you swipe the sweet from his fingers and pop it into your mouth, “i have to when i need to insult you.” the two of you spend the rest of the movie night hip to hip on the couch, ignoring the fire in your connected limbs and the spark of your fingers when they brush against each other.

it’s a few months before you’re fully embracing that you might not just find your roommate hot, but that maybe you’d want to “wife” him up as the other has expressed jokingly. it didn’t help that gojo is cleaning up a little more often these days, learning how to cook and using his inside voice like you told him to (you didn’t think he’d remember). the last straw was possibly seeing him fuss over you when you fell sick, switching to remote classes just so he could be close to you — his main excuse was that he didn’t want his laundry to be infected.

“but you don’t even like to use shirts half the time you’re home!”

“you’re calling this home—” gojo giggles while simultaneously shoving cough mixture down your throat, “i didn’t know we were married!”

“shut your trap before i really make you regret this.”

but gojo thinks that maybe it wasn’t so bad to come home to you in one of his future days, he just had to get through this first.

it was meant to be a simple photo to show off your new set of lingerie, the ones that you had gotten with your girls at a half-off price just the other day. you couldn’t blame yourself when your hands naturally reached for one that mirrored gojo’s eyes alongside the white details that represent his hair. buy it, take a potential nude and laugh about it in the group chat, that’s all. you felt so damn sexy in it that you even went as far as to take a few photos with your bra unclasped and phone in hand hiding your chest, until the very last one where it was fully off.

you felt unlike yourself, in that stuffy, small dorm while satoru was out in a lecture—

before gojo texts you about groceries and his chat moves to the very top that same moment you’ve got all these lewd, unnatural pictures of you waiting to be sent. it happened all too fast: at least 10 being delivered and read on the spot that your panic is indescribable and you want to melt into mush on the floor.

while you’re scrambling to delete them, gojo stares at your figure in that last racy picture, hands skilfully covering your breasts just enough that he could still see the curve of them and then down to your figure interrupted by a pretty pair of blue lace undies. it’s like you planned this, looking so delectable in your little get-up until it all disappears and you’re sending multiple messages of “i’m so sorry”’s and “it was an accident”’s.

gojo thanked the heavens he was sat at the very back of the lecture theatre, immediately booking it out of there with the images of you seared into his brain. his cock is throbbing and so, so hard it almost hurts to walk to the restroom, and you’re still continuing your apologies. he wants to scream at you — how you do not need to say sorry for whatever you’ve just sent, because as he removes his dick from his tight pants, there’s a soft sigh of your name that falls from his lips.

satoru is reminded of the times you’d be sat in your stupid booty shorts in the dorm, basically showing your folds because he just knew you didn’t like to use underwear underneath. he’s reminded of the times you had to (unwillingly) use one of his shirts when the washing machine had broken down and the only thing on his mind at the time was what you’d look like bouncing on him — he thinks that maybe he just needs to spit it the fuck out, and so he opens the video feature on your private chat.

“this is what you do t’me, baby,” gojo’s tip is already leaking so much pre-cum, making sure he can be seen, expression and all, “you make me so— s-shit— fucking hard.”

he didn’t even care if he could be heard, pumping his cock to the thought of you in that baby blue set of lingerie. he thinks of ripping it all off of you and buying you more just so he could do the same thing again and again, eyes scrunching up in bliss as his hand continues to move up and down his length. his hand isn’t even close to what he wants to feel — your tight pussy sucking him in — but he settles for it, squeezing his palm around his shaft and thumbs his tip.

“ya see this, angel?” gojo chokes out a moan when he sees another notification of ‘i really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable’ and it was the exact opposite for him in this bathroom stall, really hoping this video would drive his point home, “s’all for you, f— fuck.”

the video is incoherent from then on, because it’s all too much for him, the strokes of his warm hand, the images of your body, the sensitivity of his cock. lewd noises of him jerking off and his whines echo throughout the restroom, cumming with a slack mouth and babbles of your name on his lips.

“fuck, fuck, fuckkk…” satoru can hardly care as his cum stains his shirt, leaving his cock in needy spurts that dribble down his hand as well, wishing he could see it against your skin instead of his own. the end of the video is messy and hasty that he doesn’t even think much as he sends it, but it’s not even halfway through the video before you’re sending a simple “please come back, now.” and his heart jumps in his chest.

gojo simply shoots a quick text to geto, asking him to help him pack his things because he will definitely not be returning.

you’re so glad you don’t have any more classes for the day, too, because all you can think about now is satoru and his cock, blessed again with the sight of him losing himself in pleasure except now, he knew. your hands aren’t hesitant in reaching down to your core, lingerie already soaked through as you watch the short two minute video over and over as you lazily play with your clit with your eyes trained on his hand. it’s so hypnotising you don’t realise gojo’s already home, standing at your room door with his bulge showing through his pants and sweat lining his brow.

“did you run here?” you sit up, hands covering your chest instinctively. he shakes his head and you remove them.

“you know the bus will take too long, baby.”

you ignore the flutter of your heart and pussy when you know he says the pet name with intent, now, not in a joking or teasing manner. you want to hear it more.

“was that really an accident?”

you’re kneeling on your bed now, and gojo just wants to shut you up and make you take back all your apologies.

“it was!” you counter, not minding how your roommate slips his hand around your waist and is just inches from you, “but…”

gojo never truly loses his personality even when he’s hot and bothered, “but what, princess?”

that’s new.

you grin at his chivalry even when you’ve got your chest all vulnerable like this: he’s trying to break you with his eyes, the one thing that led you to choose baby blue in the first place. you win when his eyes flit down to your tits.

“but you still ended up sending me a video of you jerking off — hardly any decorum, huh, satoru?”

gojo rolls his eyes, hands trailing up your body and coming to rest at your boobs, “yeah. but you love it.”

that’s all he says before he dips down and takes a nipple into his mouth, leaving your hands to tangle in his hair as your back arches to give him more space. he’s so hungry, swirling his tongue around your hardened bud as he kneads the other, eyes occasionally meeting yours from your chest.

“d’you like the vid?” his speech is muffled.

“like it? i loved it—” a soft moan leaves you, “didn’t know you were such a sub, though.”

gojo laughs into your skin and you’re obsessed with the feeling, challenging him when he reaches your eyes again with a glint in his eyes.

“oh, you’re in for it, baby.” gojo grins, capturing your lips and feeling so free now that everything’s out in the open. he’s finally able to feel your lips on his, so soft and slow, making him go crazy from such a simple gesture. gojo pushes you gently onto your bed, kissing down your exposed body before coming to your pelvis, playing with the hem of the underwear.

“gotta thank this little guy for solving our problems.”

“please do not call my lingerie ‘little guy’,” you giggle, letting him remove the garment and you preen at the praise he gives your pussy.

“s’wet… is this all for me?” gojo shamelessly inhales your essence, the sight of him between your legs enough to make anyone cum.

“yeah…” it’s a whisper when you say it, breathless and impatient yet loving the way he treats you. “i get wet only for you, ‘toru.”

gojo moans at that, eyes rolling back momentarily before his mouth descends on your pussy and you think you can hear a brief hymn of hallelujah. he savours your cunt slowly, licking lazy stripes up and down your pussy and your moans match them — soft, drawn out — hands playing seamlessly with his hair. gojo’s startling baby blues meet you for a second and he smiles softly before he places a kiss to your clit.

a twitch, and satoru fully shows his expertise in the next second, eating you out like he was a starved man and you were the last meal on earth. your roommate sucks on your clit, groaning into your core as he feels your thighs close in around his head and your heels dig into his back. he switches easily to your hole, driving his tongue into the leaking entrance and his nose starts to nudge at your nub.

“satoru— s-shit!” your moans increase in volume, hands pulling harshly at his locks. “feel s’good—”

“yeah?” he speaks into your cunt, slurping up your juices time and time again until his jaw aches. your pussy just tastes so sweet that it’s got him grinding into the bed, too, relieving his cock with desperation. “was made just to eat you out, sweetness.”

“doing so well— are you close?” it was difficult to hold on when satoru was talking to you like that and devouring you so good, thumb now playing with your folds while his tongue focuses primarily on your clit again. he flicks at it and his eyes look at you for your answer, merely nodding pathetically as his abuse on your cunt is relentless. gojo would love to memorise the way you clench around his thumb, but he’s too fixated on your whines before you cum with a cry of his name.

“o—oh fuck— ‘t-toru! oh my goddd…” his mouth never stops moving even when your thighs tremble around his head and your body convulses, clit throbbing in his mouth and your mewls reaching the highest heavens.

gojo grins into your cunt, making sure you watch him as he collects all your juices onto his tongue, giving your pussy one last satisfied lick before he sits up, making quick work of his pants and he shows you how to not have one ounce of decorum like you commented on earlier—

because as he pumps the cock you saw just minutes ago, you tongue darts out to lick your lips unknowingly. as he drags the tip along your folds, you’re spreading your legs wider for him. as he slaps his cock along your cunt, your hips are moving on their own accord to feel more of him.

“filthy girl,” gojo leans in to your face, “talkin’ bout me having decorum. you should see yourself.”

you laugh, bringing him in for a brief kiss. you liked that you still could banter in times like this.

“i’ll admit i never had it, so it would b-be—” gojo slips just the tip in and you’re cut off, a choked whimper leaving you, “hypocritical to criticise you.”

“ya think?” gojo wiggles his hips gently, sinking into you and the squeeze of your cunt around his cock is too perfect, too tight. his own whines leave him as he eases inch by inch into you before you’re confessing.

“y’know after seeing you jerk off that day— f-fuck, in your room,” you mumble, wrapping your legs around his middle that causes him to moan, “i wanted nothing more than to help you clean up, cum and all.”

gojo chuckles breathlessly, you two have been pining for months? but he recovers just as quickly, bottoming out with a loud sigh. he lets your hands travel over his face, holding it in your palms.

“y-yeah? why didn’t you?”

“wasn’t sure if you liked me—” a whine cuts through your words as he takes the first slam into you.

“i’ll make sure you know how much i like you, baby, ‘kay?” gojo manages to get out before his hips moves into you, no longer able to hold conversation with the way your cunt sucks him in. he’s determined now, to show you how someone like you had a hold on him so strong that he was willing to pick up dirty clothes and take time out of his day to collect groceries. it’s not long before your roommate is able to pick up a pace, loving the way you trap him with your legs as his hips piston in and out of you.

the room is so much more stuffy, now, filled with the scent of sweat and sex as his pelvis meets your ass in timed thrusts. it was so filthy, too, cum from your previous orgasm aiding him as lube and sticking to his pubes from how much you were dripping.

“y-yeah— fuck me like how you’ve been wanting to, ‘toru—” you mumble out softly, already drunk on his cock. you swear you can feel the veins and his cockhead twitch at that, the sounds of the other filling your ears.

“you take me so, so well, baby,” gojo praises, face buried in your neck as he gives you kisses there, mind blank except for how you’re so wet that your arousal is spurting everywhere each time he comes up to the hilt in you, “taking my cock and squeezing me s’good.”

little pants leave you at the affirmations, and like always, gojo is a fast learner, already knowing your sweet spots when a hand sneaks down to rub at your clit. the circles go in time with his thrusts, and before then, you’re jerking in his arms, nails scratching at his back as your pussy spasms on his cock. gojo groans into your skin, hips still ramming into you before the clench of your cunt prompts him to cum as well.

“right there— s-shit!” you’re moaning when you can feel his cum seeping into you, the exact thing you’re imagining feeling even better as he loads you up, but you don’t have time to react when gojo flips you over. a quick glance to his face tells you he’s intoxicated on your pussy, pressing down on your arch.

“can you handle— another load— baby?” it comes out in between his thrusts, the way he begs to cum in you again and you’re never one to deny when you’ve wanted this for the longest time. you let satoru use you, face buried in the sheets below you while his thrusts start to turn sloppy. he’s not giving one fuck that he’s cummed the fastest he’s ever done before and how he’s going to do it again, but it’s inevitable when he’s got your cunt wrapped around him.

“y— yes, satoru— want you to fill me up, p-please—” it all overloads him: the way his cock disappears into your hole, the residual cum from earlier sticking to your ass and his pelvis, that white ring of semen around the base of his dick, your desperate pleas and cries.

it only takes one stroke of his hand on your clit before you’re cumming so fast again together with him, fingers grasping at the sheets as your pussy flutters around his length and you get his second load in return. it’s so viscous and hot, spilling into your hole. it’s so much, body going limp against satoru’s messy thrusts as he continues to rut into you, stilling finally when he starts to cramp in his thighs.

“attagirl, that’s it, sweetness,” gojo gasps out from behind you, staying locked in you as his cock spurts out the last bits of his cum. he presses a small kiss to your shoulder, asking softly into your skin if you were okay.

“more than okay—” a small mewl is heard when gojo pulls out slowly, sighing to himself upon seeing the way your cunt push out his cum naturally. there’s so much of it, spilling onto the sheets, but before he can take it upon himself to plug two fingers into your entrance, you’re dragging him to lie properly on the bed—

“not done?” your roommate laughs, a hand playing with your neck and the hickeys he’s left there.

you shake your head, noting how satoru’s cock is still sensitive when your hand closes around it, and you finally can see gojo in all of his glory when your tongue kitten licks at his tip and a shiver travels through his body. his hooded eyes and the buck of his hips are all you need to continue.

“i haven’t told you how much i like you, ‘toru. should i show you now?”

somewhere on your dresser, there’s several messages from your girls, but you’re too preoccupied with satoru’s cock in your mouth to notice — ah, well, you’d update them later.

[6:23pm, operation get (y/n) a partner]: photo attached (4)

@(y/n) girl where is your pic !!!! show us that cute baby blue lingerie pleaseee!!

[chilling-seavey]

Confessional (gr63)

↳ A/N Oh gosh...am I really posting this? PLEASE read the warnings. This fic is not for everyone. Do not read if you are not comfortable with dark sexual themes.

↳ Summary: George is the golden boy of the congregation and can do no wrong as the pastor’s son and purest of heart, body, and soul. You find yourself fantasizing about ruining each other's purity more than anything, although little do you know, after an unexpected fess up in the confessional booth, he’s not as innocent as meets the eye.

↳ Pairings: Dark!Pastor's Son!George Russell x Innocent!Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 18.8k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, George is not a nice guy in this, very sacrilegious (read at your own risk) but branch of religion is unspecified, corruption, manipulation and using God/religious threats as a manipulation tactic. Brief drug use, dirty talk, spanking with hands and objects, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, rough fingering, spitting, slapping, crying, praise, degradation, dumbification, light humiliation, squirting, subdrop, unprepped anal (and going directly from anal to vaginal - do NOT do this), unprotected sex, virginity taking (hymen breaking/blood)

George was an angel on earth. To his family, to his congregation, and, honestly, to the entire town. He was their gift from God - his mother made a point to say at every church gathering she could - and yet there wasn’t a boastful bone in his entire body. He was the pastor’s son after all. He had an image to withhold. He had God’s image to withhold. 

As he grew out of the church’s boy’s choir and passed the age limit to be an altar boy, the older women in the congregation were starting to ask him if he was thinking of courting any young ladies soon. They probably had their granddaughters in mind; those copy and paste church-going girls who may not have much to offer but their doodled-in bibles and diamond cross necklaces passed down from generations of devoted Christians. George always declined any offer politely, giving a gentle caress of the old women’s hands and a sweetheart parting before making his escape. He was a gentleman. Always. In action and in appearance. You had never seen him without his ironed collared button-ups done up to the very top button and tucked neatly into smooth khakis and finished with a pair of perfectly polished dress shoes. He was hardly real. He never had even a hair out of place. 

It was no surprise that you found yourself slowly falling for him over the years as you grew into your late teenage years and into your early twenties together. You weren’t friends and honestly you hardly spoke to him but the stories that your mind created certainly seemed to make up for that missing piece. 

He sat in the front row of the church every Sunday with his mother and his siblings as his father addressed the congregation and read the scripture. Despite the stories and prayers that filled the agenda, your eyes would be locked on the back of the youngest son’s head more intently than anything else. George paid close attention to each prayer, delivered each response effortlessly, and always took his spot on the altar to help his father with the blessing of the sacrament. He was perfection and you swore he himself had a shiny yellow ring of light hovered above his head at every given moment, just like the statue of Jesus hanging on the crucifix behind the altar. He was heavenly. 

As a devout Christian, you took the word of the Lord seriously, and more so once your little infatuation with the pastor’s son only grew - you did want to impress him after all. With nightly prayers and a chapter of the bible before bed, you were sure to soak in each word into your memory and it filled your chest with warmth and spirit. 

But it was only a matter of time before your mind started to drift from the words on the pages of the bible in front of you and formed thoughts that you were not proud of. It was a downhill slope from that first night you happened to think a little too hard about the way George’s shirt hugged his torso at the community volunteer afternoon. Your hands nearly itched with desire to take it off him in front of everyone although alone in your room that night, you had the privacy of only your conscience. And God. 

They only got worse day by day, to the point where sitting in a stuffy church listening to Pastor Steve drone on was the breaking point. George caught your attention again, sitting perfectly in the front row of the congregation with his fluffy brown hair styled neatly and his button up ironed free of any creases. You just wanted to rip the buttons off and get him out of it, feel him breathing air into your lungs from his supple pink lips pushed with yours, and straddle his lap with your skirt hiked up until you could feel his-

“Amen.”

The chorus of the church goers around you startled you shamefully out of your thoughts. George, eight pews ahead of you, stood from his spot and walked up to the altar to kneel on the bottom step as if to show off to you how his slacks hugged his bum favourably. He then performed the sign of the cross before ascending the few steps to assist his father with the offering like every Sunday. His hair was a bit longer now and was swooped back from his forehead in light brown waves that almost never moved out of place. The expression on his face was solemn and professional as he worked quietly. 

You were sure you were the apple in the garden of Eden, poisoned by the Devil, as you imagined George bending you over the altar and that white linen tablecloth embroidered with crosses. You may have felt poisoned with sin, although George was undoubtedly your forbidden fruit. He was tempting and you were convinced this was God testing you and your devotion. 

Purity was of vital importance after all. 

You couldn’t believe the thoughts that flashed through your mind despite the promise of abstinence you had made from the moment of your first communion more than a decade earlier. Sex was to be between you and your husband, married in the church and under God, not between you and the pastor’s son. 

You couldn’t book a confessional soon enough. 

Your time was on a Wednesday afternoon with one of the secondary priests from the church which meant you had to endure three full days of sinful thoughts that seemed to have made a comfortable home in your mind. It pushed a strong warm ache between your legs, a feeling you had never experienced before, and you laid flat out on your bed each night and stared at the ceiling as you let the sensations overtake you to the thoughts of George and every gorgeous part of him. 

Touching yourself was a sin - that fact had been engraved into you from a young age even if you didn’t know what it meant at first. Yet, laying on your bed with the images of what George looked like under his Sunday best had your hand shyly slipping down your body. You were going to confessional the next day after all which would undo anything you subjected yourself to before that. Right? 

You were sure he could treat you so well. He was nothing less than an absolute gentleman after all and your heart raced at the thought of him taking your virginity and making sweet passionate love to you right in your very bed. All you could get yourself to do was cup your hand over the front of your panties, squeezing your thighs together to the thought of him in their place. George was a good boy...an angelic young man...and the flush of your face only rose with guilt at the thought of you wanting to deflower him as he did you. It was so terribly wrong and so terribly sinful but you craved nothing more than all of him. 

You went to sleep unfulfilled; too shameful to really even do anything to yourself apart from thinking about what he was hiding under those pressed slacks of his well into your dreams. 

The church was nearly silent when you arrived for your confessional the next morning and you could hardly make your way across the wood floors quick enough, desperate to repent the sins that had weaseled into your consciousness over the last few weeks. The empty hall echoed the click of your heels against the flooring as you hurried along the side wall towards the two thin doors. One was under the small illuminated light indicating the priest was on the other side waiting for your arrival. You slunk through your door and closed it behind you to take your seat in the cramped and dimly lit confessional booth, smoothing your knee length plaid skirt around you. 

There was only silence and the lingering scent of some sort of blessing you were sure but you hurriedly clasped your hands together, took a deep breath, did the sign of the cross, and spoke as strongly as you could, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

There was a pause before the priest responded plainly, “Explain.” 

“I have had terrible thoughts this last week or so. Terrible, disgusting thoughts. I am so ashamed of myself and I don’t know how to stop them.” you rushed out, trying not to stare at the dark coloured metal mesh screen that separated you. You could only see his shadow on the other side in the dim lighting of the confessional booth. 

“What thoughts?”

His voice was calm and serene, sounding as if you were speaking to God Himself right then and there. You let yourself trust in the man on the other side. He was there to help you after all. Your hands wrung together on your lap as you tried to piece together the descriptions of your sins without being too vile. 

“My mind has been constantly wandering to impure thoughts of Pastor Steve’s youngest son. They’ve only been getting worse and worse and...they’ve been appearing in my dreams. I have been trying to turn away the obvious temptation of the Devil but, my goodness, I don’t think I can anymore.”

“What thoughts? Explain them.”

“I...don’t know.”

The pause that lingered in the stuffy wood panelled booth seemed to urge the answers out on your own accord without any more prompting,

“I’ve been dreaming of him taking me to bed outside of wedlock.” you spoke softly, staring at your hands folded neatly on your lap as you spilled your confession through the screen, “Or even...taking me right here in this church after Sunday mass...tainting the blessedness of the altar or the pews and filling the church with our moans until-”

You cut yourself off as soon as you realized your tangent had started to stray back to more filth than confession. 

“Until the Lord could hear you in Heaven?” he spoke from the other side. 

“Yes.” you breathed, bowing your head in near shame. Your heart was racing in your chest and you rubbed your palms against the material of your skirt. “It sounds so wrong yet somehow...it makes me feel so good.”

“Have you touched yourself?”

The question from the other side of the screen was blunt and your cheeks flushed in near shameful embarrassment, “No. I managed to avoid that temptation for the most part although it seemed to be difficult. Father, I’m sure the Devil has tried to sway me from God and I am frightened as to what I will become if this goes on any longer.”

“You cannot avoid your urges.” he spoke seriously.

“But it’s sinful-”

“That’s why we have confessional...so you can redeem yourself to the Lord no matter what you have done...how many times you have done it...or how many times you sit in this very church and fantasize about being fucked like a little whore by the pastor’s son.”

The vulgar language coming through the screen was enough to startle you silent although the moment the small screen was tugged open and George’s face stared back at you from the other side was enough to rip the air from your lungs. Eyes wide and heart nearly in your stomach, you felt almost lightheaded at the sight of him smirking back at you. He eyed your blushing cheeks down to your collared shirt embroidered with the church name on the left breast and the skirt that you clutched the hem of in your clammy hands. 

George’s eyes raised back to yours and he licked his lips but didn’t do much to hide his smirk, “I think we ought to do something about those sinful thoughts, hm?” 

You couldn’t word an answer in your shock, stumbling out a panicked, “I thought...I scheduled for Wednesday at 1-”

George chuckled softly and raised a lit joint to his lips on the other side of the open screen and took a long drag before pulling it back between thumb and forefinger, “It’s Tuesday, angel.” 

He exhaled, pouring clouds of smoke into your side of the confessional booth which had obviously been the source of the scent you had assumed was some sort of aromatic blessed offering. Obviously, you had been mistaken over a few things that afternoon. The fact that the young man expressing nothing but God’s image was smoking weed while hidden away in the confessional booths startled you greatly, almost more than your mixup of dates. 

George’s gaze lingered on yours, your frightened eyes unmoving from his prideful ones. He raised the drug to his lips again and his eyebrow peaked in your direction as the silence that filled the smokey air between you felt more tense than ever. Yet, you didn’t seem to make any move to escape the stuffy enclosure of the closet-sized windowless booth. 

George spoke sultrily, smoke tumbling from his lips as he did so, “Lust is one of the seven deadly sins…I’m sure you’re well aware of that?”

“Yes, sir.” you answered before you could think. The crimson of your cheeks only darkened at the title that left your mouth without a thought. 

His lips tugged at the corner into a small smirk and leaned his forearms onto his knees to comfortably stare at you from the other side of the small screen. You couldn’t see much more than just his face through the small opening in the metal mesh and the shadows that filled the dimly lit confessional booth made it nearly impossible to read his expression. 

“You must give in to your sin in order to be cleansed properly. Confession is the first step. I am more than willing to help relieve you of your lust if you will have me.” 

“You don’t have to d-“

“I want to.” 

His answer was almost too quick. 

“And, frankly, angel,” he paused to take another inhale of the drug before breathing it tauntingly out into the air between you, “I think I need to.” 

George stamped out the joint onto the wrought iron ledge of the open screen and tucked it into the pocket of his pants as he stood. The height of the opening only had his belt buckle and front zip of his chinos in view, right in front of your face, and despite the fact that you had initially come to be cleansed of your sins, the thoughts that swirled around your mind were enough to make your mouth water. 

In only a second, he bent back down to look at you through the screen, “Well? Come on then.” 

His gorgeous face disappeared just as quickly and the dark closet sized room was illuminated by the bright light of the airy church just beyond the doors as he stepped out. Your eyes squinted slightly in the sudden change, from the reminisce of the smoke that was left behind, and the fact that you were sure you were dreaming. Even if you were, it was a dream you did not want to wake up from.

You opened the thin door in front of you and stepped back out into the open church to the relief of cool air compared to how suffocating it had gotten in the confessional booths. The large stained glass windows shone sparkling rays of coloured light across the wood floors and empty pews but the true beauty of the space was truly taken by the man in front of you. With his back to you, you admired him shamefully in a white button up tucked into his cuffed chinos; his initial appearance was that of any Sunday mass. When he turned around from where he had grabbed his leather jacket off one of the pews, you noticed how unbuttoned his shirt really was - almost completely open - and a cross pendant rested easily against his tanned chest. 

Just the way he looked at you made the air disappear from your lungs and your knees to nearly go weak. He was a marble statue in and of himself. 

George pulled on his leather jacket over his shirt and adjusted the collar, “Ready?”

“Where are we going?” you asked almost innocently, following behind him like a shy puppy as he led the way towards the front of the church. 

“I’m taking you somewhere better than those stuffy confessional booths.” George answered plainly. His pace was quick as if he were nearly in a rush and part of you felt a little guilty for interrupting whatever he had been doing that day for your meaningless spiritual chores. 

“I should text my parents to tell them I’m not coming home for a bit then?”

It came out more of a question than a statement, your nervous voice quiet through the back hall of the church and George navigated the thin passageways past the basement stairs and the few offices with ease. 

“Definitely.” he agreed. 

“Where should I tell them I am?”

His sudden stop had you nearly crashing into him with a small “oh” in surprise. George stared back at you right at the back door of the church, a soft tug of a smile present on his supple lips. 

“Do you tell your parents everything, angel?” 

His question seemed a bit more judgy than you had anticipated and your cheeks only rouged under his intimidating blue eyes. 

“No.”

You didn’t sound too believable to even yourself so you added a just as accusatory, 

“Does your father know you smoke weed in his church?”

George scoffed, “What do you think?”

“I think I was surprised.”

George turned to face you completely and he leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, “Why were you surprised?”

“Well,” you cleared your throat, trying to keep your stand against him, “you just seem like an angel yourself. Figured you didn’t get up to that kinda stuff.” 

“That kinda stuff? Like what? Drugs? Drinking? Sex?”

Your heart squeezed in your chest at his sinful half-confessions and you tried not to pine it to jealousy in terms of the last one. You crossed your arms yourself to mirror him, “Yeah. Makes you look like nothing more than a liar now.”

“Does that turn you off your little filthy crush on me, angel?” George taunted, tilting his head to the side. 

His blunt expression of the secret you had nearly forgotten you had exposed to him had you stumbling over your response, your flustered self only making him smile wider at you. He stepped closer and raised his right hand up to brush his finger along your jaw, his warm touch shooting shivers down your spine and your lungs desperately pulled in oxygen as his eyes bore into yours. 

“I still carry the word of the Lord, you know. I have been the best altar boy in the entirety of this church’s history, most reliable volunteer for Sunday School and Pancake Breakfasts, and the most respectful and devoted Christian this congregation has ever seen. I am my father and Our Father’s honest pride and joy, and as long as I confess to my sins like routine, I will always have a place in Paradise.”

His finger tapped the end of your nose to punctuate his little speech. 

“So I think I ought to show you how it’s done, don’t you think, angel?”

You could only nod, falling into putty in his hands as he cradled your jaw with his ring clad right hand. His purity ring. Was he really as sinful as he claimed to be? Maybe it was naive of you but you were a bit hesitant after his seemingly so blunt confession to you. 

“Yeah.” George chuckled darkly as his eyes stared at your lips. “God doesn’t want you to deprive yourself of the pleasures of life, angel. He just wants you to be able to reflect and acknowledge the filth of the acts and still respect Him. He wouldn’t make it feel so good if it was so wrong. You understand that?”

“Yes, sir.” you stumbled out. 

George swiped his thumb over your bottom lip and tugged at his gently before stepping back towards the exit door, “Good girl.”

You were drawn after him like instinct, like some natural pheromone was luring you out the back doors of the church and across the alleyway in his wake. Your thumbs typed an excuse to your parents, the phone almost unrecognizable in your hand, and somehow trusted him enough to not walk you into oncoming traffic. When you finally looked up from your phone, you were startled by the motorcycle standing beside the back fence and with wide eyes you watched as he swung a leg over and pulled on his helmet. 

George grabbed the second helmet and held it out towards you casually. He eyed your startled face before speaking cockily, “What? The bible says nothing about motorcycles being a sin, does it?”

A small smile played at your lips and you took the black helmet from him, “No. I suppose not.” 

Proudly, George cocked his head, “Climb on.”

You secured the strap under your chin and then helped yourself to the small back seat of the metallic black bike, swinging your leg over daintily in an attempt to keep your skirt from riding up too much. Your innocent hesitation was nearly comical to him as you held your hands shyly on your lap, hesitant to touch him as if he was a holy artifact. 

George reached back and grabbed your wrists in his large hands to tug your arms around his waist, “Hold on tight now, angel.” 

You hid your bashful smile against his shoulder and smelling the fading scent of leather along with his intoxicating rustic cologne that surrounded him. With a kick of the engine, the motorcycle rumbled to life and you grabbed your own wrists around his middle in nervous fear as he pushed off the pavement and headed off into the street. 

The late summer breeze ruffled through your hair that peeked out the end of the helmet and once you reached the main road, riding on the back of a motorcycle didn’t seem so terrifying. You still weren’t quite sure where he was taking you but you felt yourself trusting him entirely, especially with how good he looked right in front of you. With your cheek pressed close to his shoulder, your eyes struggled to watch your surroundings as they focused on his hands on the clutch and how the muscles in his hands clenched with each acceleration. You weren’t sure how you had fallen for him so strongly without knowing he drove a motorcycle but it was a far too attractive surprise now. 

As your nervousness melted into trust, you let your grip loosen on your wrists and you set your hands gently against his stomach as discreetly as you could. George noticed but you couldn’t see his smirk from where you sat behind him and he didn’t make a move to stop you. With careful hands, you savoured the feeling of taut muscle below the soft thin material of his white button up under your palms. You swore you could feel abs and you couldn’t help but slide your hand up higher to shamelessly try and feel more of him. 

Your front was pressed right up against his back and you never wanted to let him go. You had dreamt about holding him like that for far too long and innocent or not, you only craved him more. That ache was back between your legs and the steady rumble of the engine and the warmth of George’s body had your skin flushing warm. You were all too attuned to it now. 

Off the main road and down a side street lined in trees like picture perfect suburbia, George drove his bike into the driveway of a nicely trimmed brick house and parked it by the back garage. You held onto him a moment longer, feeling as though if you let go you would never be blessed with the touch of his body ever again. With your hands pressed flat to his torso and cheek resting against his stiff shoulder, you squeezed him tighter in your embrace. It happened before you could even let the idea graze your thoughts: your hips rubbing up slightly against his denim clad bum sat right in front of you. 

“Angel,” George chuckled lowly as he set his right hand over top of both of yours against his stomach, “that’s so filthy.”

You stopped quickly at his acknowledgment, hiding your blushing face against his shoulder, and tried to pry your hands out of his grip. He held you in place and spoke to you over his shoulder, 

“You’re horny, aren’t you, angel?”

“I dunno.” you mumbled. 

“Yeah, you do.” he encouraged, holding your hands tighter when you tried to tug them away again. His feet on the pavement kept the motorcycle steady in the driveway of his family home. He was already in control. “You can tell me.”

You rested your forehead against his back. 

“Give into your sin, angel.” George sang quietly, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. 

“I really…I would really like you to touch me.” you whispered. 

“Yeah? Good girl.” George praised softly. 

You hummed in gentle agreement, rutting your hips up against his bum again to try and find some sort of pressure that eased the ache between your legs. George reached behind him with his left hand and grabbed your hip to stop you. 

“Not here, angel.” he glanced down towards the street, “Inside. Now.” 

You almost tripped over yourself getting off the motorcycle and George reached out a hand to steady you as you caught your footing on the pavement of his driveway. With the keys in hand and the helmets tucked away, George let you up the back porch steps and into the back door when he unlocked it. The house was silent and you stepped into the prime example of a country rustic kitchen that was nearly spotless apart from the small messy stack of dishes in the sink. There was a decal sign above the pantry reading “God is Good” and you swallowed your nervous shame. 

George grabbed your arm and nudged you towards the hallway, “Get upstairs.” 

“Where’s your family?” you asked as you followed his instruction without question. 

George tailed you quickly down the wood floor hallway to the foyer and right up to the straight run wood stairs, “Siblings are moved out and parents are on a mission trip until Friday.”

The privacy that lingered had your stomach flipping with an indescribable feeling. George was the image of God and angel of a young man to everyone in town and part of you still believed that to be the truth, even if his smooth talk and one-off smoking of a joint seemed to go against everything you once thought of him. After weeks and months of dreaming of him and nothing else, climbing the stairs of his house felt like a hazy hallucination. Was this real?

You stopped at the top of the stairs in a beige painted hallway lined with closed doors, wondering which passage would lead you to the ease of your conscience and the confession of your sins. George stopped beside you and his hand dusted along the small of your back, his face only centimetres from yours as he stared at you in the muted light of his empty house. 

“You look so cute in your Sunday School uniform, angel.” George whispered against your ear, his hand sliding lower over the back of your plaid skirt. “Like such an innocent little flower.”

Your pussy nearly throbbed at the lust in his voice and your natural physical reaction to him took you by surprise. These feelings and these thoughts were so new and kept deep in uncharted territory you had no clue what to do next. 

George seemed to know though as he led you to the first door on the left and guided you into his bedroom. It was anything you’d see out of some sort of parent design magazine from the standard little-boy-blue walls to dark wood furniture and a matching accented duvet draped on the double bed across from the door. His bookshelves framing the window to the left were filled with simple novels - nothing fantasy or magic of course, that was never allowed - and the empty spots were filled with little figurines. Said figurines were those of religious icons, likely given at a first communion or baptism by grandparents or distant relatives, as well as picture frames holding family portraits or bible quotes in calligraphy. 

Your eyes soaked up his room that you had only pictured in your mind since you first laid eyes on him and yet seeing it in person just fit his angel boy persona that he expressed so well. A perfect little church boy down to the few study books stacked neatly on the corner of his desk and his bible resting front and center alongside a small row of various coloured highlighters. 

Of course he was someone to highlight his favourite lines of scripture. 

The click of the door shutting behind you drew your gaze back to him and he stepped closer to you, standing in the middle of his childhood bedroom. So childhood that there was still a white painted piece of plywood on his wall marking his growth over the years tick by tick on the makeshift ruler topped with his name in neat blue font. He was much taller than the growth chart now, his name now only reaching his shoulder, and it was a simple fact you seemed to hang onto. His bedroom was as flawless as his Sunday persona. 

George only stepped closer and you habitually stepped away until you backed into his desk with a soft gasp, eyes unmoving from his. He raised his hand up and swiped his thumb over your bottom lip, “Have you ever kissed anyone before, angel?”

“No.” you breathed. 

“No, what?” he pressed gently. 

“N-No…sir.” you tried. 

George only smiled politely at you, the same smile he offered the neighbours at Sunday mass, but the scheming lust in his eyes was unmissable. Even to you. 

“Kissing isn’t a sin.” he reminded you softly, his fingers stroking along your jaw and down the side of your neck until shivers rose in his wake. “You won’t even have to confess it.” 

You had already formed a slight attachment to his lips over the weeks, always admiring how pretty they were, so full and soft and pink. Kissing him was the least shameful of your daydreams and your heart pounded in your chest at how close he was standing to you, waiting for the moment he would allow your dreams to come true. Your hands gripped the edge of his desk behind you, wide eyes staring at his pretty face mere centimetres from yours, but you didn’t dare move away. 

“You can touch me, angel.” George offered gently. “I won’t break.”

It was as if he read your mind, had sensed your innermost desires to hold more of him than when only on the back of his bike, and you slowly raised your right hand from the desk to set against his chest. His button up was still mostly unbuttoned and the smooth skin of his chest was grazed by your fingertips nervously. The simplest touch felt like fire was trailing up your arm and setting your insides ablaze in fierce anticipation. 

You didn’t even notice you were breathing so heavily until he made the air in your lungs stop as he stepped even closer and dusted his lips across your cheek. Your hand tightened on the open edge of his shirt as he pressed a feather soft kiss to your cheek and then moved slowly to the corner of your mouth to leave another. You were shuttering with anticipation and you let your head turn towards him slowly to finally feel his lips against your own. 

There was a pause as you stood motionless for a moment and shared a single chasté kiss between you. With pink cheeks, you pulled back with a gentle little smack and bowed your head shyly, leaving your hand resting against his open shirt. 

But George easily tilted your head back up by a finger under your chin and slotted his lips with yours, trapping your bottom lip between his two. Your legs nearly gave out right then and there, letting a soft surprised hum fall from your throat as you let your mind wrap around this situation. It was addicting and his lips tasted like the sweetest poison, luring you in for more when he pulled back for a half second. 

Your hand slid up his chest to his shoulder and around the back of his neck, letting him lead your passionate kisses but you followed along eagerly. His lips felt as soft and supple as they looked, even better than you had imagined them, although you had never imagined that kissing would set such a fire in your stomach and deep between your legs. The feeling of his warm tongue swiping over your bottom lip had you shuttering and he cradled your face in his hand as he parted your lips with his own and tilted his head to the left a little more. 

You couldn’t help but let your other hand rise to his shoulder too, draping both arms around him to keep him close as if you never wanted him to part from you. It was too good, he was too good, and the innocence that coursed through you saw nothing wrong with it. Nothing wrong with the way he held you and kissed you and the way his tongue finally pushed against yours. 

The room was perfectly silent apart from your messy slow kisses and the muffled pleasant hums that you both shared, craving for more of each other. George’s hand caressed your face and his other rested politely at your hip over your plaid skirt. There was a bit of distance between you and as his tongue and yours pushed together effortlessly, you only craved his touch more. With nervous hands, you slid your fingertips down his chest and over his open leather jacket to the hem of his jeans. You had no idea what you were doing but all you knew was that you needed more and you linked your fingers in his belt loops and shyly pulled him closer to your body. 

George chuckled softly into your mouth, biting teasingly on your bottom lip as he stepped closer with his legs staggered with yours, and tilted his head the other way to kiss you more. The warmth of his face against yours was addicting in itself and you found yourself arching into him as your body pulsed behind the material of your skirt. You held his body against yours by his two front belt loops as if trying to keep him from moving away for even a second, welcoming his hands down your neck and along the collar of your own white buttoned shirt. 

“Let me see you.” George whispered into your mouth between slowing kisses as his fingers started to blindly unbutton your shirt, “I want to appreciate God’s masterpiece for myself.” 

His words had you blushing and you shifted your arms to let him push the scratchy white material from your shoulders and discarded it to the ground. In only a blush pink lace bra underneath, George tried to move back to admire you but your lips chased his pleadingly. He smiled against your mouth between off centered kisses as his fingers raised to the tiny white bow resting between your breasts and he tugged gently at it. 

“You’re so cute, angel.” he whispered, pausing to kiss your lips a few more times, “So pretty.” 

You tugged at his belt loops again to urge him closer and your tongue nudged its way ungracefully into his mouth enough to have him groaning softly. His hands grabbed at your waist greedily and you let him press his body flush against yours and the slight bump in his jeans that pressed against your thigh had your heart skipping a beat. 

“Can’t believe such a sweet looking little lady has such salacious thoughts about me. Succumbing to lust so easily.” his thumbs pressed into your hips like wet cement, his hands massaging your waist until you were easing into his touch more and more. 

“George.” you breathed. 

“Ah, ah.” he corrected coolly. 

“Sir.” you tried. 

His chuckle stemmed from nothing but desire and it had your pussy fluttering with need for his touch. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip and he soothed it with a lick before grabbing your wrists and led you a few short steps away from his desk and to the centre of his room.

“What are you thinking about right now, angel?” George tried, standing in front of you with his large hands holding your own in a tender grip, his eyes unmoving from your face even as you only stared at his tempting lips. 

“I dunno.” you mumbled out. 

“You had some things to say when you were in that confessional booth. I believe you’re thinking lots more than you’re letting on.” George pressed. His thumbs rubbed over your knuckles back and forth tauntingly, “Are you thinking those dirty thoughts again?”

You nodded. 

“Yeah? Are you thinking about what my cock looks like?”

You inhaled shakily, eyelids nearly fluttering. You couldn’t lie to him. You couldn’t lie to the pastor’s son, not when he was a direct link to God. “Yeah.”

George smiled knowingly at you but you couldn’t meet his gaze, “Good girl...don’t want you lying now. I need to know everything so we can properly cleanse you of your sins. Leave no stone unturned, yeah?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yeah, that’s my good angel.” George raised his hand to stroke his thumb across your flushed cheek, “Now tell me what you’re thinking right now.”

“I don’t know.” you whispered, “I just want you to do whatever you want to me.” 

“I’m going to have to work your desires and your sins out of you then, won’t I?” George pulled off his leather jacket and tossed it to the ground in front of his closet before starting to unbuckle his belt, “Kneel before sir and open your filthy mouth. I’ll cleanse you and then we can really get started.”

You hesitated, glancing down to the hardwood floor beneath your feet, “Right here?”

“Yes. You know how to kneel, angel, I’ve seen you do so during mass.” George retorted. 

“But there’s usually a cushioned kneeler.” you argued softly. 

“There won’t be cushioned kneelers in hell, angel, and that’s where you’re going if you don’t work with me here.” George warned, his voice dripping in warning, “Now kneel.”

You did. 

Eye level with his belt buckle, you watched as he unpinned it and then unbuttoned his jeans and dragged down the small zipper. You were barely looking at anything and your mouth was already watering, sitting on your knees patiently as he pushed his jeans down his thighs. The bulge in the front of his snug underwear had your mouth opening habitually and you rose up from sitting back on your ankles to kneeling right in front of him, hands finding his thighs as your mind whirled. 

George set his finger under your chin and guided your head up to look at his face. He then pinched your cheeks to pry open your mouth and he leaned down to let a thick string of spit fall into your waiting mouth. You couldn’t hold in the hungry moan that died at your lips as your tongue accepted his blessing and he smeared his spit across your lips with the pad of his thumb. You were so focused on his face that you didn’t even notice his other hand shoving down his boxers to rest at his knees with his jeans, not until his hand that cradled your chin moved to the back of your head and urged you down. 

Your eyes widened at the sight of his dick right in your face, unlike anything you had made up in your imagination or from the scientific drawings in religiously censored textbooks. Was it at all sane of you to say it was beautiful? He was beautiful. He was already hard and had the slightest curve to his thick impressive length with his pretty rounded tip swollen a gentle rouged pink, peeking out behind a thin protection of foreskin. Your thighs clenched together in lustful desire, the mixture of your spit dripping from your bottom lip onto his bedroom floor. 

Despite the obvious dominant nature of the pastor’s youngest son who now stood in front of you half nude, he let you take your time to process what was happening. You moved your hand out first, glancing up at him for permission and he nodded you on, hiking up the bottom of his button-up out of your way as he watched you wrap your fingers around the base of his dick. It was warm and you whimpered softly. 

“Open up those pretty lips, angel.” George said gently. 

You followed his instruction. 

“Tongue out.” 

When you let your tongue slip past your parted lips, another string of spit dripped onto the floor. George held his hand to the back of your head and used his other to feed his dick into your mouth slowly. It was heavy against your tongue and you stared up at him with your heart racing in your chest as he pulled your head down in slow time. It was a strange sensation, having your mouth stuffed with dick until you had no choice but to breathe through your nose, unable to speak. He tasted slightly salty and so perfectly soft and warm you couldn’t help but let your eyes flutter closed as he helped himself to your mouth. 

“Good girl.” George spoke down to you lowly. He moved his hand back to his shirt to hold it up out of the way and you took his place around his dick with your own hand, kneeling still as you got used to the unfamiliar feeling. 

Your spit was leaking down his length and slicked up your hand that held him snugly, letting you move smoothly as you pulled back with your mouth, sucking gently to keep from drooling too much. That only had him groaning and his fingers laced through your hair as he watched you suck lazily at the tip like he was nothing more than an innocent lollipop to give you your sugar fix. You craved him just as strongly after all. 

George unbuttoned the last two buttons on his shirt and let the sides drape open to let himself have two hands free to pull your hair back from your face. With his bottom lip between his teeth and his dark stare angled down at you over the bridge of his nose, he pulled your mouth down around him deeper once more. You gagged softly as he filled up your mouth and nudged against the back of your throat, your hands gripping onto his thighs tightly. 

“Yeah, this is how we take care of that sinful little mouth of yours.” George spoke sternly down to you, pulling you back by your hair to show you the rhythm he wanted you to mimic. 

You could only moan softly in agreement, drooling down your chin with how delicious he was as he took up your mouth more and more once again. You never imagined it being so physically filthy with how wet it was, your hand and your mouth smeared in spit and tears pricking your eyes as you dropped down on him again, gagging yourself gladly. 

“You’re such a good girl.” George praised from above you. 

He had the perfect view too, staring down at you on your knees for him like he was yours to worship, you in your pretty little bra that pushed up your breasts like plush heaven and plaid skirt draped politely over your lap. Not to mention his dick in your mouth, feeling how warm and wet you were, drooling for him, moaning for him, sucking him with honest innocence that just made it so much hotter. You were a virgin and that fact only made him want to ruin you. 

It sounded so incredibly hot, the mix of the wet muffled gags of your mouth and the soft whimpers that vibrated from your throat, only urging him to grip your hair tighter and pull you deeper. Your hands splayed pathetically against his thighs, desperate to hold onto something, choking hard on him as he pushed himself down your throat. Your gargling gags had his head falling back with a deep groan, his fingers tugging at your hair to speed you up, using your mouth in sloppy motions. 

You didn’t protest, letting the tears stream down your cheeks and the spit drip onto the material of your skirt over your lap, trying to keep up with him just to please him. Your eyes blinked up at him, staring up his body to his face scrunched up in pleasure and that silver cross pendant resting between his pecs. It moved slightly with each jagged breath he took, taunting you, reminding you that God is always watching. 

Just thinking, He was watching you at that very moment, George’s dick balls deep in your mouth; the same mouth that had earlier tried to ask for forgiveness from Him. That was in no way the act of you being forgiven. How did you get there? 

Despite the shame that was lingering in your stomach, you couldn’t get yourself to stop, drunk on the taste of him and the concept of worshiping his body the way you had only ever dreamt about. Your hands dug your nails into his thighs, bobbing your head faster down his whole length despite how your throat constricted and gagged. 

“That’s it, angel-” George panted, “Ah, you’re doing so good.”

It felt so wrong but his words sounded so good. He was as tempting as the forbidden fruit and there was no going back now; confessions had already been said. You wanted all of him. 

His left hand dropped to your cheek and he tugged at your cheek with the pad of his thumb, “Mm, you’re being so good for me. Taking it so well. Look at you.”

Your hand moved from his thigh to the base of his dick, holding him still as your mouth worked for you and his grip in your hair helped you along. George groaned steadily as you sped up, choking yourself on him harder and faster and he twitched in your mouth. 

“Fuck, angel-” his words were dripping lust, each syllable lengthened in the most addicting way until you wanted to hear him moan for you and praise you forever. If this was so frowned upon then - he was right - why did it feel so good? And to think, you hadn’t even been touched yourself. 

George was getting loud, moaning and breathing hard as his hands stayed tangled in your hair that had once been hairsprayed perfectly for confession. You could feel his cock throbbing in your mouth until you were wrapping your hand around him to stroke him off, seemingly unable to get enough of him. What George had on his mind though, was nothing less than fixing you and the fact that you still had your penance to uphold. 

His left hand gave your hair a good tug, yanking your head back until his dick pulled from your mouth with a filthy pop and you gasped in surprise, coughing and sputtering for air. He held you in place by your hair, smearing the tip of his cock against your glistening lips but didn’t give you the satisfaction of putting it back in against your tongue. 

You whined pleadingly, trying to pull out of his stiff grip to take him back in your mouth, “Sir, please.”

George was adamant on his decision, his free hand stroking over his cock in quick rapid flicks of his wrist, “Sinners don’t get the pleasure of swallowing.” 

Your hands held onto his thighs, eyes unable to choose between looking at his face or his throbbing dick right in front of you. His bedroom welcomed the filthy wet slick sound of his hand working himself off like it was habit, his breathing falling shallower by the second, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. You looked so eager and innocent that it didn’t take him long to finish, catching that last glimpse of your doe eyes and parted lips before the first shot of warm sticky cum streaked across your cheek. 

His moans were like angels singing, setting your body on fire as he covered your face in filthy white ribbons of sin. You looked like a heavenly mess, pink cheeks streaked in tears and cum and spit still dripping from your chin until he was completely finished. George smeared some of it over your lips with the tip of his dick and let you earn your first taste of him right from the source, blessed by the fruit of his holy garden. 

He watched you lick your lips, eyes staying closed with the shots that had stained up to your eyelashes and into your hair, and then he grabbed the edge of his open shirt and wiped your face clean. You couldn’t bite back your fulfilled smile well enough, swiping your hand across your cheek and licking off the remanence of his pleasure with an eager tongue. 

“Where are your manners, angel?” George tisked. 

“Thank you, sir.” you whispered up at him, still perched sweetly on your knees in front of him as you sucked on your finger, “You taste so good.” 

“Are you still thinking disgusting little thoughts?” he asked. 

“More than ever.” you admitted softly. 

George’s hand grabbed your cheeks to keep you looking up at him and then slid down just enough to wrap his fingers around your throat, “Like what?”

“Like wanting you to touch me so fucking bad.” you whispered. 

“Watch your mouth, angel.” George scolded. “Swearing is a sin. You know that.” 

“Sorry, sir.” you breathed. 

George grabbed your arm and pulled you to your feet in front of him before turning you around and shoved you forward over the end of his bed. You tried to move but he held you down by the back of your neck and tossed up your skirt with his other hand, giving him room to spank you over your soft pink panties. You shrieked in surprise at the impact, fingers curling into his duvet as your feet stayed planted on the hardwood floor. 

“Hands flat on the bed. Arms straight.” George ordered. 

You were one to follow his instruction and did as told without complaint as he stripped out of his jeans and boxers to leave him only in his open button up and cross necklace. Bent over the end of his bed with your arms straight underneath you, you had a perfect view up to his headboard, right where a carefully carved wooden cross was hung on the blue painted wall above. 

“Oh my goodness.” you whispered, more to yourself than anyone. 

“You’re going to take your penance for your sins, angel?” George taunted, folding up the hem of your skirt to reveal your bum. 

It was worded like a question but it sounded more like a demand. You replied shakily, “Yes, sir.” 

He slapped his hand down hard against your skin and you bit down hard into your bottom lip behind a soft whimper at the sharp sting he left behind. 

“Yeah? We gotta get rid of those filthy disgusting devilish thoughts of yours. Make sure they’re gone for good.” 

There was a pause and you filled the momentary silence with a soft, “Yes, sir.” 

George’s hand grabbed your ass and kneaded your flesh in his palm, “You better ask for mercy, angel.”

The brown leather bound bible surprisingly stung a lot more than his hand—maybe from the emotional weight it carried with it—and you shrieked at the impact, hanging your head between your arms. He spanked you with it again, really pulling his arm back to hit you hard, leaving a blush pink shine to the curve of your flesh. 

“He’s listening.” George reminded you gently but sternly. 

“Forgive me, Father.” you hurried out before George spanked you hard again. “Oh God!” 

Another slap with the book. 

“Don’t use His name in vain.” George scolded. 

Tears pricked your eyes as he spanked you again, forcing a blubbery choked moan from your throat. So you used his name instead, “George, please. Touch me. Rid these shameful thoughts from my head.”

“What thoughts?” he urged you on. 

“It aches-“ you whimpered distractedly, reaching a hand down to press over the front of your panties. 

George spanked you hard once more with the bible before letting his hand slide between your legs. He nudged your fingers away as he took over, gliding back and forth over the thin sopping wet material and right up to your clit. 

“Right here, angel?” he asked soothingly. 

“Yes, sir.” you withered. 

“Yeah, does that feel good?” his fingers drew lazy circles in place that had you shivering. 

You stared down at his bed sheets, mouth agape, and gently pushed back on his hand, “Yes, sir.” 

“You’ve soaked your pretty little panties, angel.” George tisked softly, rubbing his fingers in long stripes back and forth over the fabric that covered your pussy, “No wonder you’re aching.” 

He was barely touching you but somehow it felt so much better than when you tried yourself. Your legs were almost trembling in desperate anticipation as he teased you over your underwear in feather soft touches and you let your eyes close to bask in it, bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Turn over, pretty girl.” George instructed. “I’m gonna show you what it means to be touched by the hands of God.” 

His cocky words did nothing but urge you on. You shifted around from your hands and knees so you were sitting on his bed facing him, eyeing up how he was only in his open button up and nothing else and holding the leather bound bible in hand. He was staring right back at you like a county fair prize from your flushed cheeks to your heaving chest and your thighs pressed snugly together. 

George tossed the bible back onto the desk behind him and then stepped up closer to the end of his bed where you were sat. He nudged up your skirt again and linked his fingers in the sides of your panties and pulled them down your legs and onto the floor. Shyly, you kept your thighs pressed snugly together. No one had ever before seen you so exposed and as he started to undress you, you were filled with a sudden shyness. George greedily grabbed your knees and shoved your legs apart. 

“Spread your legs for me, angel. Let me see your pretty pussy.” George whispered. 

His vulgar words had your eyes widening but you obeyed him anyway, an embarrassed blush rising darker to your cheeks as you exposed yourself to him. The first man to see you like that, the first man to look at you in that light, and the way he licked his lips at the sight of you had you throbbing. 

“So natural.” George breathed, “So pure.” 

His stare was intimidating, big blue eyes trained in on your most intimate spot, a spot that you were raised to be protective of, shamed. You watched him closely, your chest heaving faintly in anticipation, waiting for some sort of reaction out of him as if you craved his validation. George’s large hands were warm against the flesh of your thighs as he pushed your legs apart wider and then nudged up the hem of your skirt around your waist to see you better. 

“The Lord took His time on you.” George said, his voice dripping with lust. “Now back up for me, angel.”

You shuffled farther onto his bed, keeping your legs spread how he left them, not wanting to go against any of his demands. He was helping you repent, after all, so you had to listen and obey. As you settled yourself near the centre of his double bed, George followed after you, kneeling in front of you on the mattress. He pulled his shirt from his shoulders and dropped the material to the floor without a look back, letting himself be exposed to your desire completely. 

The tattoo on his chest drew in your eyes right away, the black ink carefully forming the shape of the hands from The Creation of Adam right over his heart. God had created George in the same image as he had created Adam; perfect, raw, masculine, and ready to carry the word of the Lord. Although, both creations seemed just as eager to disobey their creator. 

The deadly sin of greed coursed through your veins as you tried to soak in each and every curve and angle of his body, that shameful warmth building a throbbing in the pit of your stomach that was hard to avoid. Without thinking, you breathed out a dreamy, “You’re so…beautiful.” 

“You think so?” George smiled cockily as he nudged your legs father open to kneel between. His fingers toyed with the little bow on the band of your bra right between your breasts.

You barely nodded in response before his hand was reaching around your back and unclipping your bra with expert precision. The lace was tossed to the ground and in a split second, his mouth took its place, covering you in wet open mouthed kisses across your breasts and over your hardening nipples. His hungry moan against your skin had your mouth falling open lazily, tangling one hand in his hair as he helped himself to your chest while your other held you up in the centre of his double bed.

You hadn’t anticipated this. For all you had been aware, the only thing to ever touch a woman’s chest was to be her baby for nourishment reasons and that alone. But then George was wrapping his lips around your nipple and sucking on it with enough force to pull a gasp from your chest, your fingers snug in the back of his soft hair. Your soft gasp had him smirking and he shifted to your other breast, his teeth tugging playfully at your nipple while he raised one hand to knead the flesh of your chest, claiming you up until your chest had a light sheen of spit across it. 

“So good.” George mumbled, pulling off your breast with a wet suctioned pop. His fingers pinched both of your nipples as he shifted out from between your legs and settled at your side. 

You couldn’t help but lean over to kiss him, sighing pleasantly into it as his lips locked perfectly with yours in messy wet kisses. His hand raised to cradle your face, keeping you there for a moment longer as he bit at your bottom lip and tugged it back gently. He licked his way into your mouth between sloppy kisses, making you feel so incredibly salacious and wrong but in a way that still felt so good. It was dizzying. 

As he broke away from your kiss, his hand dropped down to your thigh, his gaze quickly following, and he pushed up the hem of your skirt over your spread legs. The cool air of his air conditioned bedroom against your soaked pussy made you shiver and you watched his fingers dance teasingly over your thigh. He traced the hem of your knee-high socks and then slid up higher, dipping along the soft skin of your inner thigh. So untouched and sensitive to his every graze. 

George was sitting so close at your side he barely needed to lean in to whisper against the shell of your ear, “I’m gonna show you how to touch yourself so when you’re thinking filthy little thoughts again, you can make that pestering little ache go away.”

“Please, sir.” you breathed, your voice quivering with desire. 

George chuckled softly and kept his steady strokes over your thigh, up and down, teasingly slow and taunting, and his words only matched it, “You’re gonna think of me touching you just like this, up your thighs and over your hips.”

His slender fingers followed the instruction of his words, dancing over your legs and up to your hips, teasing the bunched up fabric of your plaid skirt and down to the apex of your thighs. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, staring down at his hand, watching, anticipating. 

“And when you can’t take it anymore,” he whispered against your ear, “you’re going to push your pretty little fingers over your pussy.”

You could have shuddered at only his words but as you watched his hand slide down between your legs, your breath froze in your chest. He dragged painfully slow stripes down and back up again with two fingers, teasing every inch of your cunt right up to your clit and back down. Your eyebrows raised at the unfamiliar sensation, a shaky inhale pulled into your lungs, as your ears were attuned to the sticky wetness of your body just like that. 

“And when you’re nice and wet…like how you are now…you’re gonna touch your clit just like this,” George’s fingers pressing down against your most sensitive spot—the spot you had never had the courage to explore—had you jolting with a gasp but he hushed you against your ear with ease mid-thought, “don’t squirm, angel—and you’re gonna think of me while you do it.”

“George-“ you whimpered, staring down at his hand between your legs, your bottom lip finding its way between your teeth as he drew slow circles over your clit. You couldn’t hold in your soft, “Oh my God.”

“Louder, angel. He’s listening.” George whispered right under your ear, his breath hot against your neck. 

His fingers pulled quicker circles, forcing another trembling gasp from your throat as your body habitually tried to squirm away from the unfamiliar overwhelm and your thighs squeezed together. George easily shoved your legs open wider, staring right at your profile as he kept that consistent pace on your clit and you tried to stay spread for him. It felt insanely good, ripping hot warmth through every limb in your body, unlike anything you had ever felt before, until your mouth was dropping open and your eyes were nearly rolling back in your head. 

“S-Sir-“ you whimpered, holding yourself up on one hand as your other reached out for him beside you to grab onto something and ended up holding onto his cross pendant still draped between his pecs. 

“Is this what you wanted?” George taunted, pressing his fingers down harder on your clit in tighter circles, “Or did you want more?”

You nodded quickly, absolutely speechless with the realization of how good it felt and how long you had put it off. Watching his fingers intently, you could barely get yourself to make a sound, too embarrassed and overwhelmed to even know how to react. 

George stopped his circles and pinched your clit gently to make you squeal as he quoted scripture against your ear, “Ask, and it will be given to you. Matthew 7:7.”

“More. I want more. Gimme more.” you rushed out, dropping your hand from his necklace just long enough to urge his fingers lower, your insides physically aching for something else. 

“There’s a bit of greed coming in with your sinful little lust.” George chuckled, reminding you of the deadly sins you were committing, “At least have some manners, angel.”

“Please, sir.” you exhaled pleadingly, holding his hand down against your throbbing pussy. 

George shifted to sit behind you and tugged you close so you were resting back against his chest between his spread legs like you were his little dolly to play with. The embarrassment was overpowered by lustful desire and you didn’t even care how pathetic you looked with your flushed cheeks and heaving chest and legs hooking over his to leave yourself spread wide. George’s lips found your neck as he pulled your skirt up with his left hand and slid his right between your legs once more. 

“This likely won’t feel as good when you do it to yourself but since you wanted this so bad…I must help you to uphold your penance.” he said between slow kisses over your shoulder, his fingers slicking themselves up in your arousal that was dripping out of you and onto his duvet. Back and forth, back and forth. “Gonna give you what you want and rid those sinful thoughts from that pretty little head of yours.”

You could only spread your legs wider between his, trying to push your hips up against his painfully gentle touch, and his left hand raised from your skirt to grab onto your right breast snugly. He was nearly holding you in place that way and you stared down your body to his slender fingers teasing slow circles over your dripping cunt. There was no warning before he slid his middle finger entirely inside you. 

You gasped loudly, mouth fallen open, and your hands gripped onto his thighs on either side of you. George’s soft groan fell against your ear as he slowly started to pump his finger inside you, biting his lip at how tight you were around only a single digit. He had shamelessly taken many church girls’ virginities like that but none of them ever felt or sounded as good as you before he even got inside them properly. You were something else and he craved to savour each second. 

“Good girl.” he praised against your neck, leaving soft kisses over your skin, “Deep breaths, angel.”

You inhaled shakily and on the exhale he added his ring finger into the clutch of your warm wet walls. Your face scrunched up at the unfamiliar stretch and your hand flew down to grab his wrist as if to stop him, but he only yanked your hand away with his other, gripping your wrist in his hand, and started pumping his two fingers inside you. 

Voice quivering, you whimpered out a strained, “Holy sh-shit-“ 

Despite your curse, George only smirked and curled his fingers steadily inside you, “Feels good doesn't it?”

“Yes, sir.” you whined, staring down at his hand between your legs that pumped inside you quickly to push the filthy wet squelching sounds of your body taking his invasion around his room. 

The black band on his right hand ring finger reflected the afternoon sunlight streaked in through the open window. The faint engraving of a cross and his three initials around the band caught your eye in the slight blur of his motions. GWR in small font, a good strong Christian name in first and middle, and now taken to deface your purity and the very symbol that the ring itself stood for. 

George held your arm around your body to keep you in place as his two fingers pushed stronger in and out of you, soaking themselves greedily in your arousal. You withered softly with the sweetest sounds, gripping his thigh with the hand he wasn’t pinning to your chest and watching him help himself to your body. He sped up quickly though, shoving his fingers into you in rapid motions, faster and faster. You moaned shakily, wincing through the unfamiliar stretch but letting your mouth fall open at how good it somehow felt. It was completely overwhelming and you tried to squeeze your legs together to ease some of the rush that was flooding over your body, panting for air and whining and squirming in his grip. 

“Shh, that’s it. Spread your legs, angel.” George praised softly, slowing down to let you open your legs again. He linked his ankles over yours to prevent you from closing your legs again and his fingers easily picked up the pace once more. They fucked into you quickly with an aggression that looked far more painful than it actually felt as his two slender fingers were simply pushing shots of indescribable pleasure through your body. 

“George!” you gasped, trying to move again but he held you down. You whimpered loudly, straining against his tight grip as he kept his fingers shoving quickly into you again and again, filling the room with the filthy wet sound of your pussy gladly taking his fingers. “S-Sir! Oh my God!” 

“Louder. He can hear you.” George spoke lowly against your ear, his own breathing slightly shallow as he fingered you faster. 

“Fuck!” you sobbed out, tossing your head back against his shoulder as your eyes screwed shut and toes started to curl in your socks. 

“Give into it, angel.” George breathed, his eyes focused on nothing but your face, the way your expression fell into ecstasy. His fingers ravaged your body, moving at such a great speed it could only be compared to the rapid flutter of angel wings.

When he let go of your arm, you immediately grabbed onto his thighs, digging your nails down through your trembling uncontrollable whimpers. His left hand then slid between your legs and pressed down on your clit to give you that greedy little bit of friction as his right hand ravished you at unbelievable speeds. 

“Oh my gosh! Oh my God!” you sobbed out, tossing your right arm up to grab onto his hair over your shoulder, tugging roughly at the roots and he groaned deliciously against your ear, setting your insides ablaze, “Fuck!” 

“Good girl.” George growled softly. 

“Oh fuck!” you swore to the ceiling, head tossed back against his bare shoulder as his fingers rammed into you harder, faster, more persistently. 

“Give into it. Don’t hold back.” George instructed behind the filthy wet smacks of his soaked fingers and palm meeting your dripping body. 

“What’s h-happening?” you cried shakily, your thighs starting to tremble and your skin flushed hot with pleasure. You felt tight all over, like your body was coiling in on itself. It felt like Satan had his hand on you, pulling you to some unimaginable place that you would never come back from. 

“You’re gonna cum, angel.” George whispered softly against your ear, keeping that same insane consistently rapid pace of his fingers, his voice sounding almost echoey against your ear as he reassured you, “Give into the pleasure.”

Your muscles were tightening around his fingers and you were getting dizzy with overwhelm, feeling every single inch of his slender fingers buried deep inside you contrasted by the cool metal of his ring that pushed against your warm lips with each rough thrust of his hand. You couldn’t stop shaking, moaning and whimpering so loudly that you were lucky his house was empty, and you tugged at his hair and his thigh for some hint of solace. 

“George!” you cried, “George! Sir-”

Your heels dug into the sheets beneath you, trying to push your trembling body away from his overwhelming touch. He gripped you by your hips tighter as your legs physically shook, holding you down on his hand as he fucked his fingers into you faster, relentlessly. In a second, you were falling perfectly silent and your head arched onto his shoulder with your eyes nearly rolling back in your head.  

It felt like a resurrection came over you, pulling your soul from your body as waves of pleasure tore through you. You could only try to breathe, gripping onto him as he fingered you right through your orgasm despite how you trembled underneath his control. It only got wetter, soaking your pussy, his fingers, and his duvet in your juices that leaked with each movement of his hand between your legs. 

You finally gasped for breath after having your entire body tensed and silenced with pleasure, echoing a blissful moan to the ceiling as your nails dug into both of his thighs. Your head fell forward and your eyes scrunched shut as you trembled with overwhelm and reached a hand down to grab his wrist and slow his rough movements down. 

“Okay, okay, okay- oh my...God…” you panted, your voice quivering. 

George let a soft chuckle fall against your neck and his lips followed in a gentle kiss to your skin. He finally pulled his fingers out of you and cupped his hand down nice and snug over your pussy until you were pushing his hand away with over sensitivity. His left hand raised to your throat and eased your head back onto his shoulder so he could lean in and kiss your lips, sharing sloppy breathless open mouthed kisses between you as your eyes struggled to even stay open. 

You were nearly limp between his legs but the obvious poke of his erection pressing against the small of your back had you licking your lips with unwavering desire for even more of him. He had been the catalyst for the awakening of your sin called lust that overtook you. Both the catalyst and the fuel that now kept this overpowering sensation going. You wanted all of him even if his simple touch sparked tremors of overwhelm through your body. 

When he pulled back from your lips, you tried to follow, leaning in after him with a pleading little whimper until he gave you his fingers instead. His big blue eyes watched as you silently permitted his two fingers in your mouth, your eyebrows furrowing slightly at the taste of yourself that grazed your tongue. 

“Tastes like heaven, huh?” George taunted. 

You could barely nod, sucking gently on his fingers for a few more seconds before he pulled them from your mouth and a string of spit dripped down your chin. 

“Turn over, angel.” he instructed as he shifted out from behind you. 

“What are you doing?” you mumbled as you shifted over onto your stomach. 

“We have one more step left in your penance until you’ll be free from your sin.” George explained as he situated himself to kneel on the mattress and he pulled you closer across the sheets by your hips. “You said you wanted me to bend you over and fuck you? Making you moan until Heaven can hear you?”

Your pussy pulsed at his words and you smothered a soft anticipatory moan into his duvet. You weren’t sure how much you could even take but despite the lingering sensitivity from your very first orgasm, you still craved more of him. After having his dick in your mouth it was only fair to give the rest of your body its turn. 

The silent filthy argument that your mind offered had you flushing pink into the sheets and you looked over your shoulder at him. George grabbed your hips and pulled your ass up so you were kneeling and bent forward onto the bed. His hand came down hard on your flesh and you yelped in surprise, wincing as he did it again and the metal of his ring stung your skin. 

“Answer me.” he ordered, his voice warm and firm.

You responded without hesitation, your voice foreign to you, “Yes, sir.” 

George got himself situated, kneeling between your spread legs, and he swiped his hand along your dripping pussy and smeared your excess liquids all over you just to make you more of a mess before using his slicked up hand to stroke his dick. 

“Don’t we need…a c-condom or something?” you asked shakily. 

“Contraceptives are a sin, angel.” George explained coolly, “I don’t think you need anything else added to your list of things to ask forgiveness for.”

“No, sir.” you breathed. 

“We’re going to start with something God won’t smite you too much over.” 

You rested yourself on your forearms with your back ached for him as his hand slid down your spine and rested between your shoulder blades to keep you in place. You glanced back at him over your shoulder just as he dragged his fingers through your soaking wet pussy and right up to the tight muscle of your asshole just above. His simple touch had you gasping as he smeared your wetness around and prodded gently at your hole. 

“George…” you spoke warningly, uncertainty present in your wavering voice. “Sir…I don’t think-“

He ignored you, grabbing two handfuls of your flesh and spread you open to lean down and let a thick dribble of saliva fall between your cheeks. Your eyes widened at the sensation, shutting you up expertly. Without lube or a condom, he slicked you up the best he could, finishing with a messy spit into his palm and a few more quick strokes to his dick. The feeling of the tip of his dick being angled against your asshole had you gripping the sheets nervously but you stayed perfectly still for him, waiting with bated breath for a feeling you didn’t know how to expect. 

“Just breathe, angel.” George cooed softly, setting one hand on your hip to keep you in place. 

You exhaled just as he started to push slowly inside you, stretching your tight hole open around his thick girth and nearly ripping indescribable pain right through your body. Your face screwed up in discomfort, breath freezing in your chest, and a trembling whimper fell from your throat. 

“Ow-” you choked out, fingers bunching around the sheets until your knuckles were turning white, “Ow, ow, ow, wait-”

“You’re being such a good girl.” George praised breathily, still pushing slowly into you. His thumbs tugged at your flesh to spread you open some more and he dropped another thick string of spit down to where you were connected, trying to help make himself slide a little easier. He cleaned up his lips with a lick and then bit the bottom one snugly as he watched himself bottom out inside you, his deep groan sending shivers up your spine. “You’re so fucking tight, angel. You’re so good.” 

“It hurts really bad.” you mumbled, tears stinging your eyes. 

“Just for a second.” George assured you before easing a short way out of you and then pushing back in. “It’s gonna feel so fucking good, angel, I promise.” 

You swore your entire body was burning in pain but you trusted his words. Somehow everything he said just came out so reassuring and believable, like he was a direct messenger from the Lord. It felt easy with him but it felt so wrong too, bent over on his bed in the filthiest of ways. 

You knew the concept of ‘God’s Loophole’ well from church camps where other teenagers made dirty jokes around the campfire about how sodomy was the one way to still guarantee a pass to heaven by avoiding true premarital sex. Hearing those things shocked you in the years passed but now, it all seemed to make sense. It was the best of both worlds: getting George and still getting your salvation. 

The talk seemed so much more casual than the act as you found yourself struggling to piece together if it was uncomfortable pain or pure overwhelming pleasure you were feeling. He gave you another slow thrust, his large hands gripping your hips until you were sure his ring was leaving intents in your skin. It would have been almost unbearable if it weren’t for his deep beautiful moans that fell from his chest everytime he pushed his hips right up against the curve of your bum and they honestly made the tight friction worth it. 

George pushed the bottom of your short skirt up again and hand came down hard on your cheek in a loud spank, enough for you to drop your forehead down against the duvet with a shaky groan, your fists gripping the sheets. He held you in place and started to pull you into each thrust, his eyes unwavering from your tight little hole and how perfectly stretched it stayed around his thick cock. It was erotic and he couldn’t help himself but shove a little harder into you. 

“Sir…” you whimpered out, arching your back lower for him without even realizing it. 

“Good girl.” George smirked down to you even though you couldn’t see him. He could sense you succumbing to it, adjusting to the invasion, and his hand slid down your back to grab a fistfull of your hair as he sped up slightly, thrusting into you a bit faster. 

“Oh-“ you gasped out shakily, scrunching your eyes closed tightly as you tried to focus on the pleasure in the pain, face smothered into the mattress. 

“Such a good little whore for sir.” George praised lowly, tugging at your hair to lift your head up, forcing you to stare straight ahead at the wooden carved cross on the wall above his bed as he shoved into you steadily. “And a good little angel for the Lord, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, sir.” you tumbled out. 

“Yeah?” 

“More.” you blurted out. 

“Harder or faster?”

“I-I don’t know!” you whimpered. 

George chuckled lowly from behind you, fucking into you harder and faster, pushing a trembling groan from your throat as he held your hair back in his tight fist. You were so wet that his childhood bedroom was easily picking up the filthy slap of his balls on your cunt, only making your eyes nearly flutter close with disgusting bliss as all your senses focused on him. It reeked of sex in his room but it didn’t phase either of you as he gripped you tighter and fucked into you harder. 

“O-Oh fuck,” you cried out, face contorting in pleasure, “Oh fuck!”

“That’s it, angel.” George grunted, his skin slapping hard against yours, trying to speak through his rough breaths and beautiful deep moans, “Gotta make this quick so I can take you home. Made up some little lie that we were getting some extra bible study in…your parents will never suspect that their innocent little angel is being fucked up the ass.”

“Please-” you sobbed, not quite knowing what you were trying to ask for, clutching the sheets tighter as your eyes screwed shut. “Shit.” 

George slid his hand from your hair to the front of your neck and pulled your head up higher by a tight grip on your throat. With his lips against the shell of your ear, his breaths were sending shivers down your spine, and you arched back for him greedily for more. 

“Naughty little angel.” George growled against your ear, holding you in place by your throat as his other hand spanked you hard again before sliding down to play with your pussy a little, rubbing over your folds as he fucked your ass nice and rough, honestly making your hand slap down on the mattress. 

“Please, sir! Gimme it!” you cried out, letting him ram the syllables from your throat. 

“Shit, angel…fuck.” George groaned, shoving two fingers back into your pussy and thrusted them in rapid time with his hips, only increasing the soaking wet sounds that squelched through the bedroom. “Shit, you’re soaked…so fucking wet.”

“Yes, sir! Yes, sir-r-r, o-oh my-“

“Say it. He’s listening.”

George’s fingers sped up as his body slowed down to a stop and he watched your muscles clench around his dick as your cunt took his second vicious attack from his glorious fingers. 

“Oh my G-God!” you finally squealed, bending lower for him despite the grip he had on your throat. 

“Fuck this.” George huffed impatiently and pulled his fingers out of you suddenly, leaving you to shriek at the sudden stillness. He yanked your head back by your throat again so he could speak lowly right into your ear, his voice thick and low, “You want my fat cock in your sweet little pussy?”

You couldn’t even answer for a moment with how stunningly filthy and desirable those words sounded coming out of his swollen pink lips. All you could manage in reply was a pleading moan of, “Mmm, yes.”

“Beg.” he ordered. “Tell me you want me to fuck the sin out of you.”

Your once censored mind was nothing but a mess of filthy desire and you let the devil speak for you from your innocent mouth, “Please, sir. Please fuck me. Need your dick so fucking bad…need it so deep…”

George eased out of your ass, leaving a bit of a gaping hole staring back at him that he slipped his left thumb into to not leave you painfully empty. You withered for him, wiggling your hips back temptingly and he spanked you with his right hand. 

“You’re going to have to go to confession and beg for forgiveness from the Lord daily if I fuck your pretty pussy. You know premarital sex is one of the greatest sins of all.” George explained as he tauntingly dragged the tip of his leaking dick between your lips. 

Yes, you knew that well. You knew that to take your virginity back properly you may even need to be re-baptized - and what would your family think of that - but in that moment, all that mattered was him filling your deepest desires. You craved him in the deepest part of your soul and the deepest part of your body. 

“I don’t care, I need you inside me!” you cried out, louder than you needed to, and tried to push back on him desperately. 

His hand gripped tighter to the sides of your throat and you fell silent as he shushed you soothingly and pressed the head of his dick just inside you to make you gasp with the slightest taste of that beautiful stretch, “I’ll give you what you want, angel.”

“Please.” you breathed, scrunching your eyes closed in anticipation. 

George pushed into you a little more until he reached some resistance from your body. His fingers had done a good job in preparing you somewhat but, for your first time, it was expected that it wouldn’t suddenly make it easy. You whimpered at the sting that the gentle nudge of his cock hinted between your legs, your body tensing up.

“Deep breaths for me now, angel.” he purred, stroking your hair, “Nice, deep breaths.”

You took a full, shaky breath, and he took that moment to force himself a little deeper. Your inhale was cut off by a pained cry, eyes screwing shut, feeling him forcing himself into your untouched body. He was patient with you, easing into you in slow shallow thrusts despite the way tears welled in your eyes at the ache it pushed over your hips and right between your legs. 

His thick girth and impressive length caused the wetness that dripped out of you to squish filthily as he pushed himself inside all the way. There was a pause and George let out an audible withering moan, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head with how beautifully warm, wet, and tight you were around him, squeezing him so tightly he was sure he had never seen the presence of God until that very moment. 

“Ohhh, fuck.” he swore breathily, keeping his thumb in your ass as his dick filled your pussy to the hilt. His deep groan reverberated through your mind and your jaw fell slack with the pleasure of even simply hearing him, using that as a distraction from the physical strain. His other hand gave your hip a squeeze, muttering out a barely audible, “There we go…”

Then, George barely gave you a second to admire that fulfilling stretch, before he was pulling out and ramming back into you hard. You groaned loudly, eyes fluttering at his intensity as he did it again. His hand pulled his thumb from your ass and he held a two-handed grip on your hips to tug you back into each quick thrust. Your mouth was hanging open with shocked bliss, nearly drooling out the side of your mouth at how good he felt taking you from behind. 

He spanked you again, slapping his large hand down hard right across the pink tinted flesh of your ass, and then propped up one foot flat on the mattress for leverage. His speed and aggression was indescribable and a pitchy moan fell from your lips. 

“Ohh my God!” you shrieked through his room, the pain melting quickly into pleasure as your body accommodated him, drunk on the feeling of having him all. Your voice shook with the overwhelming pleasurable tears welling in your eyes, “Yes, yes, yes, sir, yes!”

Unexpectedly, just as you had started to properly enjoy it and how much you wanted him to keep going, to keep blessing you with this new form of rebirth, he pulled right out of you. You cried out in pleading protest but he didn’t wait a second before grabbing your waist and flipping you right over onto your back. He shoved up your skirt again and pushed open your legs—wide—as he spoke down to you through his teeth, “I wanna see your pretty little face…wanna see my angel’s beautiful, pathetic heavenly tears.”

“Sir-“ you whined, reaching down to grab his wrist as he was lining his dick back up between your legs. The faint streaks of blood on his dick from when he broke your hymen were barely acknowledged by you, far too focused on getting back to the unexplainable feeling of being stretched by him, “Put it in. Put it in.” 

He shoved back inside you in one swift thrust and your head tossed back against his bed with a heavenly moan. He starting fucking into you quickly again, his hands rested strongly on the duvet on either side of your head as his eyes stared down lustfully at your flushed face. 

“Ah fuck-“ you whimpered, the word cutting off right at the end as George dipped down to kiss you and bite at your bottom lip. You moaned hungrily into his mouth, tangling your hand in the back of his hair as he thrusted into you messily. Your fingers raked over his shoulder blades, pulling angry red scratches over his back, struggling to keep kissing him like that when he took you over so easily. 

After a moment, George leaned back, knelt between your legs and he pushed your thighs up towards your chest and outwards, spreading you wide to give himself plenty of room to fuck you. It was a near miracle that your socks hadn’t slipped down from where they rested at your knees and as George held one of your thighs in place, his other hand grabbed a handful of your sock on your other leg. 

His gaze was captured by your soaked pussy and how it nearly pulled him in with each thrust he gave you, watching how you coated him in your liquids more and more each time he pulled back. There was something so mind numbingly addicting about you and the pureness you exuded that made him want to ruin you and claim you completely. Especially in your skirt and knee-high socks. You were effortlessly and innocently sexy. Your sweet moans and whimpers made his mind spin. 

“Lord…have mercy on me.” George muttered, leaning over you a little more to hit deeper, one hand falling heavily against the mattress beside your head, causing his silver cross necklace to dangle above you tauntingly. “Pussy’s so fucking creamy-“

His filthy words and his obvious reaction to your body only spurred you on, hands gripping around to his back as he fucked you into his bed. He wasn’t going as hard as he was going fast and his pendant was nearly hitting you in the chin with each thrust. You couldn’t help yourself as your last sliver of polite Christian sanity dissolved from your existence and you opened your mouth to take the metal cross between your teeth. 

“Forgive me.” you muttered shakily up to heaven, bending your legs back farther as George’s grip tightened on your thighs and he stared down at his necklace in your mouth and shoved into you harder to make you squeal another blissful, “Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me-“ 

He was going harder now, lost in your pleas and your vice-like grip of your cunt, and he fucked you so strongly the headboard was starting to hit the wall. Thud, thud, thud, in time with your heavy breaths and equal groans, nearly shaking the wooden crucifix that hung over his bed right off the wall. You were whimpering underneath him, his cross pendant between your teeth until the metallic taste filled your mouth and your eyes stared up at him longingly. 

“How does it feel, angel?” George spoke down to you darkly, moving a hand from gripping your knee sock to grab a snug handful of one of your breasts as they bounced in time with his rough thrusts, “What if your parents saw you like this, hm? Getting your tight little virgin pussy fucking pounded? They’ll certainly send you away to boarding school to set you straight…trying to scold the lustful slut out of you.”

“George…” you sobbed out, gripping your nails down the side of his back as you clung onto him desperately, “Sir-”

“No, no. I got you. I’m going to set you straight myself.” George said through his teeth, fucking into you in rough consistent thrusts until his double bed creaked steadily underneath you, “Give you just what you want so those filthy little sinful thoughts are gone for good.” 

“Please, please, please-” you begged, trying to slide your legs around his waist but he leaned back and grabbed your thighs again to hold you open. 

He didn’t stop, only finding a different angle to thrust inside you harder and the tip of his cock nudged against a certain spot deep inside you that made you nearly see stars. You fell perfectly silent for a moment, mouth falling open and his necklace dropping from your lips as your eyes nearly rolled back into your head and your hands wrapped tightly around his biceps. He fucked little gasps out of you, shoving right into that perfect spot that left you breathless until you could hardly even wrap your mind around the pleasure. 

“Yes.” you squeaked out, “Fuck! Yes, yes, yes-” 

You were sure his grip on your thighs was going to leave bruises but George didn’t care...in fact, he would have loved to see you marked up by him. He never realized how much he had been holding out for you but finally being able to have you in his bed and have your body to himself, he was nearly in blissful heaven. You were so tight and warm and he was ravishing your body until he was sure he was about to lose it far too soon if he didn’t slow down. 

With a huff, he pulled out of you completely, breaking your silence as you heaved in air with a sob. He licked his hand and rubbed his fingers over your messy pussy to smear around the dripping wetness that leaked out of you and to stimulate you a little more. You whimpered at the emptiness, grabbing him by his silver chain to pull him back towards you pleadingly. 

He slid the length of his aching cock between your folds as he leaned down to kiss you, rubbing up against your clit and between your lips as you found heaven in his tongue. You shared strong moans between sloppy kisses and quick bites until he reached down between you and shoved his whole length right back into you in one precise plunge. You grunted hard at his intensity, gaping up at him as he picked up where he left off, fucking you hard into his bed until his balls were echoing a steady rhythm of wet slapping through his room. 

You were dizzy with pleasure, moaning louder as tears of pleasure blurred your vision, raising your hands above your head to grip onto the sheets as he had his way with you. He found that spot inside you again like it was easy, like he knew your body, like he knew every inch of your entire existence. He pushed your thighs straight up to your chest to give himself nothing more than a tight little gap between your legs to fuck into, feeling how snug you were around him from the inside out. You threw your head back against the mattress, shrieking to the ceiling—shrieking to heaven—over the way he made you see stars.

“The louder you are the harder I want to fuck you.” George warned lustfully, staring right down into your eyes. 

“Sir...please…” you sobbed out, a few tears escaping the corners of your eyes as he imprinted your body into his bed sheets with his own. 

His groans were righteous and beautiful and you forced your eyes to stay open and locked with his, even as your toes started to curl in your socks again, calves hooked over his shoulders. He was slamming into you harder, forcing your moans to reach every corner of his house and your hands had no choice but to grab onto any part of him you could reach as you struggled for air; gripping his hair and his bicep, raking over his back. 

You felt it again, that overwhelming tightness in the depths of your insides and the craving to just give into him. 

“Sir.” you whined out softly, “Sir. I-I’m...Sir, I’m gonna cum.” 

But George was already feeling how your body clenched down on him in desperate greedy pulses, he knew you were close before you even did. He raised one hand to the top of his wooden headboard, using it for leverage as he fucked you right through your overwhelm and into the momentary blissful gaping silence as your orgasm washed over you. 

With a shrieking gasping inhale, you came around him, forcing yourself to stare right into his eyes as he brought so much aching pleasure over you that it was mind numbing. All you could think about was George, George, George and certainly not the terrible heinous sins you were committing with the son of your pastor. 

George was merciless, pounding into you right through your orgasm even as your liquids creamed around him and drenched your thighs in glistening wetness that made his body slap with yours louder and wetter. He was groaning loud, eyebrows furrowed as you squeezed his cock so tightly it was as if your body was ready to suck the very soul from him. 

“Goddamn, angel.” he spoke lowly, his words riddled with breathlessness, “That’s my good fucking girl.” 

“Feels so good.” you sobbed wetly. 

“Yeah? I bet it does.” George taunted without slowing down, “Your sweet little pussy has never been fucked like this before. Just waiting for me to fuck those naughty thoughts out of your brain.” 

“Yes, sir.” you cried, moaning and whimpering as your high tapered off and your aching throbbing body was still being taken roughly by him. “Yes, sir, it hurts.”

“Let it hurt.” George hushed you quickly, “It’s part of your penance, angel, remember? You’re a dirty fucking sinner.”

“Yes, sir.” you sobbed, dragging your nails down his biceps as he fucked you roughly as the bed slammed against the wall over and over even as his hand tried to hold the headboard still. 

It was far too overwhelming and your legs were trembling, but you could only focus on him and how his dick was starting to throb inside your snug body. His slick skin was warm under your touch and he shifted slightly to slide his other hand down between your legs still bent up to your chest and he let his fingertips graze over your clit. Your whimper at his light touch only had him setting his whole hand down on your lower stomach and had his thumb start to rub at your swollen clit, pressing down just to feel how deep he was and you could feel how he filled you. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” you shrieked, tears pouring down your cheeks in overwhelm as his thumb rubbed faster and faster. Your sinful, vulgar words only spurred him on, fucking the sanity out of you harder, his breaths falling shallower as his groans filled his room. 

“Gonna cum in your filthy fucking mouth.” he growled shakily, still fucking into you strongly. 

“No.” you whimpered, grabbing his waist in your tight grip as if to prevent him from even trying to pull out, “I want it inside me. P-Please, sir.”

“Angel, that’s so dangerous.” George warned. 

“I don’t care!” you whined, “I don’t care, I wanna feel you so fucking deep, sir, please!” 

“God, you’re so fucking sinful.”

“In-side-me-ple-ase.” you begged through each hard thrust he gave you. 

George’s thumb rubbed harder at your clit until your legs were shaking, nearly vibrating as they were held down against your chest and he was leaned over top of you, fucking you harder and faster into his bed as his heavenly moans harmonized so angelically with yours. You felt completely on fire, soaking yourself in tears of overwhelm as your mind was fizzing into nothingness. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t focus on anything else other than his thick cock drilling into you so hard your vision was going black around the edges. 

Your third orgasm of the afternoon hit you like a brick wall, sending your whole body into tremors as your pussy clenched down on him tighter than ever, your eyes screwing shut no matter how much you wanted to keep looking at him. It was insane how dizzy with pleasure you felt and the bursts of liquids that spurted out of you had you gasping in surprise as you clung onto him. 

George gripped tighter to the headboard and shoved in as deep as he could go with a rough grunt, pausing there for a second as he spilled his first thick shot of cum right inside you. The pad of his thumb still tugged at your clit as he shoved his hips into yours slowly but strongly through your shared orgasms, not caring how you soaked him up his abs in clear glistening wetness. 

“Oh fuck.” you whimpered shakily, gripping onto his biceps tightly as he came inside you, filling you with the warmest filthiest feeling. You were more than positive that this is what heaven felt like. 

“Oh my...gosh.” George breathed lowly, his eyebrows furrowed in his own surprise and he leaned back slightly to get a good look at how soaked you both were, not to mention his sheets that were lightly stained in pink hues of blood. You whimpered as his body heat moved away from you and you let your arms draped tiredly above your head to let him stare at you. His large hands ran down your hips and held you in place as he pulled out of you, letting his softening dick leave you without that once perfect stretch. 

Your legs fell lazily to the bed even as they trembled slightly and he stayed situated between them to watch as a thick drop of white cream was pushed out of your dripping hole by your aching and pulsing muscles. He didn’t bother cleaning it up, leaving you messy as he raised his eyes back up to your tear streaked face. 

“I’ve never had a girl squirt before.” 

His simple statement had you shying away, pulling your thighs together as your cheeks flushed pink. George tisked and leaned over you to press a lingering kiss to your cheek. 

“Why so shy on me now, angel?”

You felt dirty from more than the sin that had just completed, but at the thought of him doing the same thing with other girls. You mumbled a soft, “Nothing.” 

“Hey.” George’s face turned to concern and he shifted off you to let you sit up the best you could when you made the move and you pulled your skirt back down as if to keep yourself decent around the young man who just took your virginity. Who just took your most sacred gift. He spoke your name softly and reached for your arm to stop you from standing up. With the wave of dizziness that overcame you, you didn’t fight him. “Take it easy for a sec.” 

“I have to go.” you said, your voice quivering.

“Just wait until you get your legs back under you first at least.” George said, trying to pull you by the arm to lay down again. “Why are you in such a rush, angel?”

You sat stiff on the side of his bed, mostly naked and covered in sweat, spit, and various consistencies of each other’s cum, and you held onto the edge of the mattress with your head hung and spinning. You took a soft breath, “How many girls have you...have you taken like this?”

There was a silence that fell and you didn’t have to look at him to know the expression that was taking up his face. He didn’t want to lie to you but the truth wasn’t what he knew you wanted to hear. 

“A few...maybe, like, eight...or...twelve...but-”

“I’m so stupid.” you whimpered more to yourself than anyone, trying to get up again. 

George grabbed your arm to keep you from getting to your feet and he spoke quickly, “But none of them have been like you. None of them have made me feel as good as you. None of them...I never technically had sinful disgusting risky pre-marital sex with anyone other than you.”

“You probably say that to all of them.” you mumbled, sitting on the side of his bed sniffling, and wiped your already tear streaked cheeks with the heel of your palm. 

“Hey.” George shuffled up behind you on the bed and he slid his arm around you and gently urged your head back to look at him over your shoulder with a hand on your neck. You blinked away your forming tears as you stared into his eyes. He stroked his thumb over your jawline and spoke softly to you, “Lying is a sin. I don’t lie and especially not to you.” 

You sniffled and nodded weakly. 

George leaned in and pressed a gentle feather soft kiss to your pouted lips and then another to the tip of your nose. He petted your hair back from your face, “Okay, now just lay down for a bit and I’ll grab you some water. That post-orgasm drop off is really hitting you, angel.” 

“What’s that?” you mumbled, letting him lead you farther back onto his bed and he tucked the sheets up around your shivering body. 

“You’re just exhausted and overwhelmed from all that—and maybe a bit dehydrated—and after such a strong dose of those pleasure sensors in that pretty little head of yours, you’re now crashing a little.” George explained as he made sure you were tucked up securely to keep you from trembling from cold as well as the drop in natural endorphins. “I’m going to get you some water, I’ll be right back.”

He tugged his boxers back up and hurried out of his room and you listened for each quick footfall down the wooden flight of stairs. Fourteen steps. You let your head rest back against the headboard and you stared up at the bottom of the carved wooden cross still managing to stay hung on the blue painted wall. Your heart was racing and you still felt like you were going to cry. Your head was spinning and even though you weren’t cold, you were trembling. 

This must have been your punishment. God saw it all. He saw your sin and this was the first step to your true punishment. You felt sick with guilt, a pit in your stomach like you had never felt before. You needed to go home but you wanted to stay with George but you thought that even the sight of him would bring back the shame of your afternoon rendezvous. 

Only a few seconds later, George was returning into his room with two glasses of water and a box of cookies tucked under his arm. Even though the house was still empty, he nudged the door closed anyway and brought over the snack and drinks to the bedside table. 

“Okay,” he crouched down to drop the opened package of cookies on the night table and then held out one of the glasses of water to you, “Here you go.”

“God’s punishing me.” you said softly without taking the glass. 

George’s soft smile fell, still holding your offered drink out to you, “What? How?”

“I feel...sick with guilt.” you mumbled, embarrassed to share your innermost fears with him, whom you may have been crushing on for months but only spoke to in the last few short hours. 

“He’s not punishing you, angel.” George assured you. He set his own glass of water to the side before he lifted your hand himself to wrap your fingers around your icy glass. “Drink.” 

Your trembling hand rose the water to your lips and you sipped softly. George crawled onto his bed beside you and petted his hand through the side of your hair as you sipped your water. He leaned in to kiss your temple. 

“You did nothing abnormal.” George said softly, stroking his hand through your tangled mess of hair, “Remember what I said? God wouldn’t have made it feel so good if it was something so terrible, right? And you know He always loves you so all you have to do is take it to confession and it will be alright.” 

“How do you know?” you asked shakily. 

“Angel,” George chuckled, “I’m the second son of our town’s pastor; I have been told our rules and expectations as Christains since the moment I took my very first breath. I may have found my way around some of them over the last few years but my father always told me that nothing you can do will make the Lord love you any less.” 

You sipped your water quietly. 

“And making love is certainly not a ticket to hell.” George whispered. 

“Do I have to be re-baptised?” 

“Only if you want to.”

“Promise?”

“I don’t lie.”

You glanced over at him, your nose almost touching his with how close you both sat, and feeling somewhat more comforted, you tested his theory, “So if you’re so truthful, what do you say if your parents ask what you did this afternoon?”

“I praised the name of the Lord with that sweet-hearted girl from church and helped her to strengthen her faith and connection with God.” George answered easily. 

“And if they ask how?”

“They won’t.” George shrugged before leaning over you to reach for his glass of water from the nightstand, pausing with his lips brushing over yours as he whispered, “But if they do, I guess I’ll have to tell them that I had no choice but to fuck your sinful thoughts you were having right out of your head...tell them that you’re cured now...that I made you see the light of heaven...that I turned you from a little dirty whore into a sweet angellic good girl who loves her God.” 

His teasing smile only had you biting back your own, raising your hand still chilled from the cold water glass to set against his bare chest and he tilted his head slightly to kiss you slowly. 

After a few seconds, he pulled back again, “Make me one promise though?”

“Mhm?” you answered softly, still in a blissful little daze from the sweetness of his kisses. 

“Keep your confessional appointment for tomorrow. You definitely need it now.” 

“Yes, sir.” you giggled, tossing your arm around his shoulders as his lips locked with yours again. 

The very next day - after a long afternoon of snacks and kisses and nothing else in George’s warm bed, him driving you home on his motorcycle, and a night of such a deep relaxing sleep you didn’t even dream - you arrived at the white paneled church at 1pm. Like a taunting sense of deja vu, you small heels clicked over the wooden floors of the empty church and towards the two small doors of the confessional booths. There was one light on, signaling that the priest was inside and waiting for you. 

You opened the door and closed it behind you as you sat in the tight space. You performed the sign of the cross, folded your hands, and spoke remorsefully despite the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips, “Forgive me, Father, for I have greatly sinned.” 

♡ Enjoying my content? Support my writing here :)

♡ None of the original writing on this blog may be reproduced, reposted, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

[vxnuslogy]

— a reason. ft aventurine

— warnings: slight cursing and violence and spoilers for the new hsr quest

— author's note: this is very long and very much a giant word vomit. first work in hsr is aventurine, i fear favoritism is real.

‘everything happens for a reason.’

aventurine has never felt so sick and tired of that phrase. something about it makes his fists clench from beneath the table and stomach flip and twist uncomfortably from within.

if everything happens for a reason, then what was the reason behind his clan’s massacre? what was the reason for the stirring in his guts whenever he looked in the mirror? what was the reason behind all of his fortune now turned to misfortune?

aventurine hated not knowing the reason.

“and this pretty thing,” jade motioned towards you by her side. standing motionless, back straight and all. “is [name]. be sure to play nice, aventurine.”

what was the reason behind your new recruitment? better yet, why were you placed as his new assistant? the last time aventurine checked, he was doing perfectly fine. steadily climbing up his rank with his risky gambles and bargaining skills. he couldn't wrap his head around it so he just sighed and accepted it.

“thank you for always looking after me, jade.” his voice carried evident sarcasm but the woman only smiled and pushed you towards his direction. he had to physically stop himself from recoiling from the action and gave you a smile.

“it's a pleasure to meet you, [name].” he held his hand out for you to take. you were hesitating, aventurine noticed. but after a few seconds you slowly slid your hand into his and gave it a firm shake. “the pleasure is all mine, mr. aventurine.”

the blonde man held onto your hand for a moment longer before slipping it away and tucking it behind his back. he surveyed your form making you want to squirm under such a gaze, and he noticed.

“let's be good friends.”

—

working with aventurine was strange, not that you didn't expect it. you spent the past six months running around the IPC from one office to another carrying mountains of papers and constantly picking up calls from the communication device in your ear. other times, you'll be out and about trailing aventurine like a lost duckling when you need to accompany him to missions that require him to be physically present.

honestly, working for the stoneheart will eventually give you an early death from a heart attack. not only is his risky gambling habits very concerning, his way of speaking wasn't exactly everyone's cup of tea. more often than not you’re needed to play as a peacemaker, the middle ground of negotiations to prevent any physical fights from starting.

but it wasn't as bad as you'd assume. you clock in around 9 in the morning and clock out at 5 in the afternoon. sometimes if certain tasks require you for overtime, you'll clock out at around 8 or 9 at night max. all the work aventurine assigns to you aren't all that difficult to handle as well. just simple reports that need to be proofread so he won't have to read over them multiple times, scheduling interviews, picking up calls and informing him of his new missions, and if the situation calls for it, you play as a spy to gather information.

overall aventurine was a good boss.

today was like any other tuesday morning. you clock in just before 9, get your coffee and another cup for your boss, pick up the last reports from the strategic investment department, and then make your way into aventurine’s office to brief him on his schedule.

his office was on the fancier ends, no surprise there as he was one of the ten stonehearts. your shoes clicking when they met the marbled floors, your eyes skimmed through the reports, trying to guess which proposal will be approved or disapproved. when you reached a familiar door, you fixed your hair and readjusted the insignia pinned to your vest. an aventurine stone, just like your boss.

you knock thrice -short, short and long- before you hear a muffled voice tell you to come in.

“good morning, mr. aventurine.” you greet with a slight bow as normal. “as punctual as ever, [name].” raising your head you nod towards topaz’s direction in acknowledgment before making your way to his desk. “here are all the reports from the last mission. i’ve read through all of them and made sure everything is in order.” placing the papers on the table, he dropped the ones in his current hand before taking the new ones, all the while, you place down his coffee which he gladly took.

“you aren't overworking them, have you, aventurine?” topaz inquired, crossing both her arms over her chest. “what kind of boss do you take me for friend? a bad one? i can assure you my assistant is in good hands.” the blonde man chipped in, his fingers flipping from one page to another as you busied yourself trying to organize the scattered reports on his table. feeling topaz's gaze, you give her a slight smile and nod, confirming that aventurine is in fact, was a good boss.

she just sighed and shook her head. motioning for you to come over, you look to aventurine who gave you a nod in turn. you walked towards topaz -feeling the searing stare of aventurine burn through the back of your head- as she took out a flash drive and handed it to you.

“this is the recording of the last meeting in regards to the mission you're tasked with. since you were still in pier port, we started without you.”

“how cruel of you, to start such an important meeting without even waiting for me.”

ah yes, the pier port incident. you smiled wearily as your shoulder slumped when you remembered what happened. you shake your head in amusement of the memory.

“thank you topaz,” you break the silence, like you always do. “i’ll be sure to look over it today.” she smiled at you in appreciation before turning her back on you and waving goodbye.

“well, that was all i came for. catch you two later.”

once the door clicked shut and the sounds of footsteps getting fainter and fainter, you took it as a sign to turn back to your boss who was already looking at you.

“is something the matter, sir?” you ask. he took off his glasses with a hum and turned his attention back to the papers he was reading. “be sure to give me a summarized report of the meeting before you go home.” you nod and take a seat on the couch in his office and boot up the laptop on the coffee table. you've always wondered when it suddenly appeared in his office, you were 98% sure it wasn't there when you first started working but aventurine always said that's it been there the entire time.

you shake the thought out of your mind and shift into work mode. hours seem to pass by in the blink of an eye before you heard aventurine call out to you. “i’m sorry mr. aventurine, i'm afraid i didn't hear you.” you heard him sigh and repeat his question. “i said, why did you join the IPC? actually, no, that's not what i want to know.”

when you looked up from the laptop in front of you, your boss had taken a seat across from you. you felt your heart thumping in nervousness.

“what exactly did you do to pique jade’s interest?”

frozen. you felt frozen on your spot. fingers stopping midway from pressing onto the keys. those beautiful eyes you've slowly grown accustomed to seeing unfiltered from his glasses, they make your heart and pulse beat in an unfamiliar rhythm.

“i come from a well-off family.” you start, suddenly feeling conscious of your background. “my parents have worked closely with the stonehearts, i suppose miss jade wanted to continue the diplomatic relationship between my family and the IPC.”

“is that the reason why you're here now?”

you simply nod even though you weren't so sure if that really was the reason.

“let me ask you another question.”

letting out a startled noise when the laptop in your lap suddenly close with a gloved hand sitting on top of it, you stare at aventurine's purple eyes that had rings of teal, something so uniquely him that you couldn't help but get lost in them. he took the laptop from your grasp and set it on the coffee table as he leaned both his arms on his legs.

“do you like working under me?”

the question caught you off guard and it showed with how the corner of aventurine’s mouth twitched up into a smirk. hiding behind a closed fist and clearing your throat, you pray that your voice wouldn't waver as you answer.

“i do.” you peaked towards his directions and he didn't seem satisfied with your answer so you list out all the reasons why you like working with him. “despite your… questionable habits, i’ve come to grow used to them as time goes on.” a fond smile made its way to your lips when you dug around your mind trying to find your memories that had aventurine in them, only to realize that he was in all of them.

“i’ve come to enjoy all your little shenanigans in missions.”

“i'll have you know, calling your boss’ plans “shenanigans” could lead to your bonus being cut by a few percent.” he huffed like a child as he decided to just sit back and cross his arms over his chest and raise his chin at you. you chuckle at the action and continue.

“ever since i was a child, i have always wanted to travel the cosmos. but since i’m the only child to my mother and father, my childhood, teenage years, and now adulthood is centered around business and trade. going out on missions with you to different planets, they heal that little part of me that wished to travel.”

“but sometimes, i truly believe that you want me to die from a heart attack.” you hear him snicker from under his breath as he fixes the watch on his wrist. “i know that as a gambler taking risks is just a part of it but aeons, do they scare me to death sometimes.”

“if i knew you cared about me so much, maybe i would tone it down a bit!” there was a playful undertone to his voice as he talked to you. you let out a laugh and shake your head. “no offense sir, but i sincerely doubt that.”

“you wouldn't be the boss i've grown accustomed to if you didn't do your risky gambles.”

something flickered in aventurine's eyes, you were sure of it. but before you could find out what it was he suddenly stood up, putting on his usual glasses and giving you a closed eyed smile.

“well, that was all what i wanted to ask you.” you wanted to ask something in return, but you never had the chance to even get a word out when he was already halfway out the door. “be sure to finish that summary before the day ends. leave it at my desk as usual.”

and just like that, the office door clicked shut.

—

“if i told you the reason, that'd be the same as revealing a trade secret.”

aventurine remembered jade's word. how could he not when they repeated in his mind like a broken record.

after he left his office, it felt like he suddenly went back in time. it just had been roughly a month after you were given the position as his assistant and aventurine wasted no moment at the end of that friday afternoon to dash in jade's office and ask her the question: why were you his assistant.

aventurine scoffed at jade's response while she only smiled. clicking his tongue in annoyance as the woman led him in circles when he kept asking. what was the reason? was it that hard to answer?

the next few days weren't necessarily the best. he was like a walking ticking time bomb, ready to blow up at any second. everyone in the IPC kept their distance from him -not like they didn't keep their distance to begin with, some started whispering among the hallways about his potential termination after a very big gamble he almost, almost, lost. what ticked him off the most, was you.

he felt so frustrated at you because why were you so damn perceptive. those past few days, the papers that were messily and hastily thrown on the giant table in his office were suddenly organized into neat piles, all held together with different colored paperclips and a sticky note of when each pile was due to be submitted. how every morning you wouldn't fail to knock thrice at his door -short, short and long- at exactly 3 minutes before 9 in the morning with two cups of coffee in your hands. or the times where you would take one good look at him and start lighting up the candles in his office that you started buying for him because you noticed he'd be slightly less stressed when the room didn't smell like fear and insecurity.

what he hated the most was even after his little temper tantrum the past few days began to subdue, you still continued your almost doting actions towards him.

when did he start anticipating your methodical knocks 3 minutes before 9? when did he suddenly grow disappointed whenever someone knocked on his door and it wasn't you? topaz had suddenly grown confused when he suddenly came into the meeting room with a cup of coffee in his hand and when she asked about it he would simply say, “well, my darling assistant bought it for me!”. the multiple scented candles in his office that burned too quickly so at the end of every month he'd have you go out and buy some more.

when did he start using his left hand -the hand he left bare from rings, the same hand that shook in fear of losing- to guide the small of your back away from the crowd whenever you would accompany him to missions?

when did he start taking off the glasses that hid the eyes he wanted to sell to someone else?

it was so confusing yet so simple at the same time. aventurine had grown fond of his little assistant. he has grown fond of you. and that was all there is to it. after all, why would he go out of his way to get that customized brooch that you wear every single day when you come to work if he hadn't. how his chest would swell with pride whenever you spoke with higher positioned officers in the IPC and how they would avert their gaze because of the pin on your vest.

and he knows that you know of his sudden change in demeanor. you just never say a word for his sake. how he went from being a distant and acquainted boss to a friend. an actual friend. and that was supposed to be it. he did say in your first meeting that you should be good friends, but how was he supposed to keep his words after the little stunt you pulled at pier port?

it was a simple mission, negotiate and get the upper hand, nothing more and certainly nothing less. like any other mission, he was accompanied by you and some other people under the IPC. everything was going smoothly until one of them just had to open their mouth and talk shit about his already dreadful past just because he had forgotten to put on his glasses. he truly has grown a bit too comfortable with you around, and he didn't like it.

“what's a sigonian scum like you doing in the IPC? why don't you crawl back into the hole you came from?”

he just sighed. shaking his head, hiding his left hand behind his back, shielding it away from everyone's gaze as it shook with anger, disgust, and the tantalizing question of why.

why did he have to go through this?

and then you did something out of the ordinary.

the sweet assistant of aventurine suddenly pulled out the gun situated on your hip and pointed it directly to the man’s forehead, a deathly glimmer shining in your eyes as your index threateningly ghosted over the trigger.

“if you do not take back what you said just now, i won't hesitate to put a bullet or two in that empty skull of yours.”

then you started walking, and he started backing up. you didn't stop until the man was standing on the edge of the port, one simple push and he'd be drowned in the vast icy oceans. that is, if he wasn't already drowning in the fury of your eyes.

aventurine felt his body move in instinct. his left hand holding your wrist and slowly putting it down at your side. he gave a half assed apology about your behavior and ushered you to your original destination. this time, he kept his hand on your back, specifically near the gun on your hips to make sure you didn't point it at someone else.

“do they always speak to you that way?” you ask barely above whisper. eyes strained one the road you were walking one while his bore into your very being. “i’ve grown used to it. be sure to not point that gun of yours to any potential partners, m’kay?” to prove his point, he tapped the gun on your hips with his finger and you just sighed. a simple yes stumbling past your lips before being enveloped by silence.

aventurine was sure. he was very, very, sure that was the last nail in the coffin, and the answer to the question he's been asking.

the entire day, you stuck by his side. glued to the fucking hip and no one dared to utter a single word about him. the meeting went smoothly and when everyone was preparing to go home, he called you over and said:

“that stunt you pulled earlier, stays between us, alright, friend?”

and you simply nod in understanding.

you carry your bags onto the ship to take you back home only to be taken aback when aventurine comes to steal it away from your hands. “take it as thanks for earlier.” he remembered that look of shock before it turned into something else -what it was he didn't know because you turned away before he could even fathom what of it made his stomach do flips.

even when he came to drop off your things at your personal room, he found himself lingering by the door. watching you unpack your things as he stood idly. you would eventually turn to him and ask if he needed anything more, and out of curiosity he asked: “why did you point your gun at that man?” he will never forget the look of puzzlement on your face when he asked.

“because he said something unpleasant to you. as your assistant, i can't allow others to simply trample on your name.”

he spent the night staring up at the ceiling while laying on his bed. your words mingling in with jade's in his mind, trying to fit the two like puzzle pieces to ease the racing of his heart and uneasiness of his mind. he didn't like assuming things. a conjecture such as this would cost him too much, but tonight he indulged himself in the thought.

picking up his phone and messaging jade, he laid his forearm over his eyes and sighed.

“this room smells horrible…” he muttered. the strong scent of chlorine made his mind spin. making him miss the scented candles you had slowly but surely placed inside his office. he'd grown so fond of them that he'd bought some of his own to place around his home. “ah… i think i'm screwed.”

—

it has been approximately 3 system hours since you arrived in penacony, and roughly a few system hours before aventurine's eventual demise.

topaz had just finished speaking with the trailblazer and their companions. when they had left you stood next to her and stared at the giant prison turned hotel.

“you… don't seem too worried.” topaz said, you felt her gaze but you didn't turn to look at her, instead you just gazed into nothing. “it would be a lie if i said i wasn't worried.” you were most definitely worried, terrified even. no matter how many times aventurine does his high risk gambles, you will never get used to it, not when it causes ghostly hands to squeeze at your heart at the sheer thought of him losing. the thought of losing him.

“but i trust miss jade's judgment. i trust aventurine.”

roughly a day before his departure to penacony, curiosity got the best of you and you stuck around the meeting room in secret when aventurine stayed behind.

“what can i do for you, aventurine?” jade's voice slightly echoed in the empty room. your hands slightly shook in fear of being caught, but you were just so curious about what has been going on with your boss that you couldn't fight the urge to eavesdrop a bit. “oh nothing much. i take it you received my message?” you assumed the woman nodded because aventurine continued. “i must admit, your little plan worked. but is it really necessary?”

jade stood up from her seat, her heels clicked on the marble floor and aventurine followed her until they were by the door.

“well, it's better to stay safe than sorry. and besides, this doesn't count as a complaint, right?”

you heard him chuckle. somehow, even though you hid behind a pillar you felt his stare bore into your being. you could almost imagine those purple eyes that had rings of teal in them that made you weak in the knees.

“no, not necessarily. i could never consider it as a complaint.” he took a moment before asking another question. “but i want to hear it from you, friend. why did you assign [name] as my assistant?”

“it's rather simple really,” jade replied. “you need a reason to leave penacony alive, no? i simply made it easier for you.”

you? the reason for aventurine's will to live? it seemed rather silly. how you, a simple assistant, be so much of importance to someone like aventurine, but with how topaz came to hold the hand that gripped the brooch he had given you, you thought otherwise.

this half a year you've been working with him, you like to think that you've gotten to know him very well.

how when you stood beside him as he sat himself in another gamble, he would always lay his left hand on his lap, fingers curled into fists so tight you were afraid his palms were bleeding.

how he always hid his “weaker” hand behind his back in dire situations to hide his fear.

or when he would always take off his glasses in his office whenever you were there. and that laptop you were 98% sure wasn't there when you started working? aventurine apparently got it specifically for you so you could work in his office.

but what you were most sure of was:

“aventurine doesn't make deals he knows he won't benefit from. he'll win, he always does. he'll come back, i know it.”

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[redcherrykook]

── .˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ TENSION DEGREE 03

────୨ৎ────

College roomate!Jungkook x college roomate!reader- fwb 2 Lovers

You find yourself having to share your room with a very sexually active medical science major who so happens to fancy you. Good thing he´s as charming and spontaneous as you, leading to many crazy parties and places you probably should not be hooking up at. When Jungkook started ignoring all his booty calls after accidentally calling someone by your name, unable to fuck away the thought of you, he knew he was cooked. Would he really leave his playboy antics for that sweet company of yours?

series- three!

content: mild slow burn- fwb2l, roomates, mutual pining, player jungkook that falls devoted to reader, cocky!JK, Confident!reader, psychology major reader, banter, parties, lots of smut (duh), only one bed trope, skinny dipping, roadtrip vibes

episode- warnings: alcohol, sexual content (praise kink, oral fem. rec., brief grinding, penetrative sex, making out), feelings of shame around sex

Taglist: @khadeeeeej @ot7stansthings @whoa-jo @smoljjks @stvrlighytt @nono13bnd @jungshaking @junniesoleilkth @deepikhaprakash @rockstryoon @tatamicc @jjeonjjk7 @kookieandjoonberries @jcrl99 @httpjeonlicious @wnteraezz @aphrodyteeth @miniesjams32 @emojkoo @katie-tibo @user-190811 @massivebearharmony @hoseokteardrop @hoseoksluv89 @hoseoksluv90

────୨ৎ────

Day two of summer vacay in chae's wonderful beach house rolls around with the morning sun enlightening your eyes,

Jungkook ran back yesterday night after encountering that yes, the air is much colder after having been in the water

With a shower you were to tired to take, he had gone to sleep after you,

As planned, waking up with your backs turned to each other

You wish, at least

"Shit" you curse under your breath, rubbing your tired eyes once meeting with that tired face of his,

Still shirtless, in grey shorts,

Thick, morning boner full on display,

His soft sleeping sounds reminding you not to be creepy, however, you couldn't help but analyze the features on his pretty face,

Round, big nose, straight dark eyebrows, beautiful brown doe eyes that are kissed closed by sleep, tiny moles and to crown it, plump little lips with the most sexiest of Piercings,

"Done now?" He smirks, opening his eyes afterwards

You scoff, immediately getting up from the bed,

"Wasn't looking" you mumble, walking into the bathroom,

"At least admit it. I also admitted to staring at your tits yesterday" he groans playfully, tossing around once more

"Creep" you Laugh, throwing a towel from the bathroom on his face,

The laughter gets echoed right back to you, alongside the words

"They look great, what can a man do"

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The beach is one of the most peaceful places on earth,

At least it used to be,

Not anymore for Jungkook, who had watched his best friends back get massaged and coated in sunscreen by no other than Hoseok,

The guy who's been talking about how hot she is,

The one constantly looking at your body like its on display for purchase,

It had especially become a place of Chaos when he felt his hands itch to replace his, to feel your body under his hands and be the one making you moan out of satisfaction

It was a place of peace,

Before you and Hoseok watched your best friend , Jungkook, go and make out with some girl you played volleyball with mere hours ago

Shamelessly, he walked over as she sat there alone, whispering sweet nothings into her ear while she giggled, stroking his arm and tugging on it

The look he gave her, licking at his lips while staring down her very exposed chest,

The little black swimsuit doing nothing to cover her full breasts,

And when he kissed her, pulling her in by the neck before crashing their lips together,

You just looked at Hoseok who's mouth was hung wide open,

"Oh don't mind him that's normal" you stroke his shoulder, laughing softly as his wide eyes shift from the show to your own, neutral ones

Jungkook wasn't one to stop because of a new location,

If anything, he likes the thrill of a new type of girl

"Is it though? Does he even know her name?" Hoseok exclaims, pointing at them

"His hand oh my god jungkook what the fuck" he says again, slapping his hand over his mouth dramatically

You giggle again, laying back down to resume your tanning sesh, this time, ass facing upwards,

"She probably told him but i bet he forgot. Ignore it really"

So he listens, ripping his eyes away from the scene to get back to his book

Jungkook continues to seduce the girl in his arms, while trying his best not to remain eye contact with your ass so perfectly in line of sight

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Later that night, after Hoseoks fifth drink, the situation gets brought up again,

And again, and again

A rather quiet yoongi even joining in to praise Jungkook of his womanizer charms,

It doesn't bother you,

Does it?

"Why did you go up here so early?" He asks when shutting the door of your shared room,

You shrug, unable to explain it yourself

Now standing in front of each other, a couple meters away, he chuckles,

"Jealous?"

one simple word,

You shake your head, "why would i be? If you wanna bang someone you dont even know that's on you kook"

Admittedly that came out a lot more bitter than intented,

"Oh come on like you don't wanna sleep with Hobi?" sternly, he scoffs, stepping closer to you, 

"No? And if i did what's that to do with you?" replying a bit harsher in tone than anticipated once more, he grins clearly amused at your growing frustration

The air gets heavy with his silence, sounds of his steps approaching you making up for the loss of conversation,

"Because it makes me mad, bunny" he begins, assertively looking into your wake eyes,

Followed by sighs as he´s looking down briefly, 

"That he meets you for two days and gets to have a chance with you, while I've been lusting after you like a bitch in heat" 

The words get stolen out of your head and tongue, unable to register a reply that's thought out,

"I didn't sleep with her. I didn't want to either" his voice is moving your thoughts around into incoherent messages, syllable by syllable

"Every time we play this little back and forth, god i just want to take you then and there" you swear his tone dropped a lot lower, gentleness remaining in the way he speaks his truth,

spilling out like a curse

It´s too late to hold back, too much has been said for him to chicken out now,

Trying to hide his sweating palms beneath the mask of cockiness, a smug smile making up for the roraring noise inside his mind,

Why did I say that?

You're smiling too at this point, whether out of shock or liking, 

You have to admit, it feels good, being wanted 

Wanted by someone you want just as much

"I'm sorry for being so pushy, just, tell me to stop" he whispers, hands finding your waist as he pulls you in, 

Closeness isn't enough to describe the position, your chest pressed against his upper stomach, your hands around his back while his grip stays on your waist,

His hot breath faning over the skin on your face, tingling along the flowers of desirs he left to bloom with the passion in his eyes,

The spell breaks once your eyes meet his,

"Stop this- this is stupid" you groan, pushing his warm body away from yours,

He scrambles, surprised, his hands still resting on your waist, caressing up and down slowly, 

There´s a decent amount of distance between your bodies, his touch shifting from possessive sexuality to warmth and security

Feeling your smooth skin under the roughness of his hands makes him feel calmer, knowing that it also makes you feel comfortable

"Why stupid?" He breathes out, nervously biting at his lip while his kind eyes scan over your features, landing on the look in your wide, shining eyes

Nervousness

You sigh, combing through the strands of your own hair,

How are you supposed to tell him that you want him,

Want him for more than once,

To be more than a checkmark on his list

"Just- look" you stop, placing your hands on his shoulder, his own ones stroking your waist reassuringly,

almost as in saying to keep talking to him

You're safe with him, he'll always catch you,

Like a best friend should 

A storm of worry anxiety and all sorts of horny feelings engulf you, racing through the corridors of your open mind,

He listens patiently,

"I don't want to be a quick fuck and then we never speak of it again" 

Visibly, he cringes, nose scrunching up while he shakes his head,

"What the fuck? Did you think that's what this is?" 

Slender fingers grip the curve of your waist tighter, his face leaning closer to yours, tilted in confusion

He isn´t angry however, the sound of his voice being coated by gentleness and worry, maybe even frustration that lingers,

Contrasting the harshness of the spoken words on their own

"Well, that´s what you do isn´t it jeon? You- you sleep with them once. just, one time"

Struck by your words his face softens, his eyes grow wider at the realisation of the uncertain boundaries,

It´s true, that is what he does, but it isn´t what he wants with you, it hasn´t even crossed his mind

Instead, Jungkook's mind has become a place of hustle, a melting pot of desire and desperation,

For one, to hold you close, feel, touch, kiss every inch of your vanilla scented skin, 

For two, to explain just how much more you are than a simple number,

A hookup,

"That's.. different. You're my best friend" he breathes out, looking over your delicate features, 

"That is why we can't kook" you say, furrowing your brows,

"But i want you, look no i- bunny i really really need you, i know you want me too" 

Silence, not the response he expected,

"Right?" he asks again, hoping for reciprocation

You bite back a small smile, 

"I want you kook" 

A faint blush spreads across his cheeks, nonetheless, he couldn't care less about how whiny or desperate he sounds, 

Letting your thumb graze his cheek, your eyes wander to his lips, 

"Just kiss me y/n, please bunny" he whispers,

"But what after? " you whisper back, anxiously recieving the butterflies in your stomach that flutter down your thighs

Your chest borderline bursting from the pounding of your heart, barely able to confine to the restrains of your body, threatening to break out 

He senses it, moving his fingers up and down your waist once again, 

"Friends with benefits? I want you, in every way possible physically and as my best friend. But god i can't stand another second pretending to just be joking when all i want is to make you feel good" he rambles, the moonlight slipping beneath the curtains to illuminate his already angelic face, painting his sincere expression in the most vulnerable of lights

"I'm scared" small, faint traces of sincerity hold together the half truth,

You're not just scared, you're petrified, horrified at what the future of this new version, this "us" could possibly hold,

Which doors will close,

He nods, cupping your face in both his hands, 

"Me too, but we won't change. I promise bunny" 

It doesn't take any more words to make yourself surrender, 

Leaning into your own desires, into his trust,

He kisses you, kisses you like he's been waiting to for an eternal time,

Jungkook feels like home,

Like a cinnamon scented candle in a cold November night, 

Like the stars that make your night brighten when you spend it crying, 

He kisses with feeling that reminds you of your favorite tunes,

There's so much to him, so much to savor, 

So you do, you do just that as you return the kiss with the same passion, intensity lingering between your lips,

His large palm wandering to the back of your head, pulling you in deeper while soft groans escape his lips muffled,

Your tongue licks at his lips, begging for more, he grins,

"kiss so good bunny, can't get enough" his praise going straight to your underwear, soaking the white lace in your fluids, 

It's new to him aswell, although acurring naturally to him, like a habit, it's strange to hear himself sweet talk someone during sex,

To feel the urge to praise them, worship them,

He figures the intimate connection of being best friends is what refrains him from sticking to his usual antics, to consumed by your positive reaction to waste another thought on what may be the reason 

You moan into the kiss, sweet, soft sounds filling his ears with excitment

Like a perfect storm his hand wanders down to your hip, 

"Jump sweetheart" mumbling the words into the kiss didn´t change your response, immediately jumping to be caught by the thighs, automatically wrapping them around his defined waistline, snaking him close

His hands move to cup your ass under the flowy dress, squeezing while expressing about how good it feels to have your warmth spread on his,

He's intertwined with you, sewn together by the curse of greed and lust, eagerly growing as he feeds into it, pushing your body back on the bed,

His kisses haven´t stopped until now, your hand sneaking up into his shirt, small fingers delicately tracing the hardness of his abs,

"You're so fucking Hot kook" you smile into the kiss, pulling away shortly to take a peak at his swollen lips

He giggles, taking his fingers to trace the skin on your neck "oh really bunny? Like you haven't been torturing me with your skimpy lounge shorts at home?"

"Was waiting for you to man up and fuck me like one too"

Your boldness doesn't faze him, used to your confidence and the way you would deliciously drive him crazy,

Like a siren, luring him to break all his codes, only for a taste of your sweetness

Things move quickly, first his shirt gets long forgotten, discarded and abandoned somewhere in the room where your dress meets him in a matter of seconds, 

"Let see how long you can keep up this bratiness" he winks, latching back on to your lips

His lips, his hands, his groans and moans reaching everywhere, they suck, lick, kiss, squeeze and caress wherever they can,

Tugging your nipples with his teeth, groping the other one up in the meantime, 

You're a mess, whining and moaning, it's becoming harder not to beg and cry out for him

Abandoning your pride somwhere along the way, your fingers tug at his hair once his lips have kissed down your stomach,

"Kook please" you whine, meeting his proud eyes with your pathetic, needy one

"Such a mess, no trace of that brat left in you is there?" he says, taking your chin into his hand while showing off his satisfied smirk,

"A good little slut hm?"

The humiliation doesn't feel good, it's making you shiver with guilt and shame,

Having heard it so often from his mouth doesn't take away the sting of it,

Being grouped in as just another slut, just another girl that he got inside his bed

Sex like this, casual and nasty as it is, has never been easy for a woman as it is for a man,

While kook gets called a sexy Player for sleeping with the entire college, the girls who engage are the ones labled sluts

Determined not to ruin the moment, you blink away the feeling of disgust that rises from a pit somewhere inside,

Betrayed by the small, really, barely noticable crack of your voice when you speak,

"Yeah" is all you say, swallowing a ragged breath afterwards,

His eyes glance to yours apologetically, immediately removing his hand from your chin and using it to stroke your cheek while pulling himself up to you,

His open mouthed, warm kisses flutter all the way from your shoulder up your neck,

Low, husky vocals reaching your ears,

" m'Sorry bunny.. should have checked first" he pauses, placing a kiss to your lips carefully

"Want to stop?" he whispers, making you shake your head in return

With a last kiss to the forhead, he moves himself back to be eye Level with your hip

"S'okay bunny.. doing so good for me, can i touch you here baby?" While encouraging you, the dominance never leaves his hold,

his fingertips and kisses dance across your thighs to the waistband of the soaked panties

You nod frantically, loosing yourself in the feeling of your fingertips wrapping around his locks repeatedly,

He smiles, pulling your drenched underwear down to your ankles where he places a kiss before coming back up, tapping your knees to spread for him

He bites his lip at the sight of your glistening heat,

placing his hands under your thighs while begining to softly lick across your cunt, moving slow and torturous with each lick of his tongue between your folds, 

Teasing your entrance, pushing in ever so slightly before lapping back up to suck on your clit,

"Taste so good , so sweet" he grunts on your skin, listening intently to each and every little whimper and moan, every tug on his strands pushing him to keep pleasing you,

"Gonna cum soon jungkook" thighs trembling, hands tightening he can feel you clench up,

His skilled tongue pushes you over the edge once he begins focusing on your clit,

With a groan from his side, he kisses your cunt, embracing you while you moan, enticed with your high seconds earlier,

His arms wrap around your waist, a hand finding its way to push strands of hair away from your face

When you eyes open, you're a blushing mess, kissing his lips swiftly to pull him in again,

More, you want him more,

He grins into the kiss, guiding your smaller hands to his waistband,

"Want you to take this off bunny" he mumbles,

In compliance, your hands slide the sweatpants off his body, pulling his black boxers down with,

You're practically drooling at the sight of his thick length, fully erect and blessed with a pretty pink tip,

He hums, guiding your hand to wrap around it, your thumb swiping across the tip, making him moan in return

" so big.. n you sound so good" you say, eyes locked on his body, your hand wrapped around him, abs glazed with sweat and his tattoos full on display on the muscles of his arms,

He moans softly, pulling you to straddle him, his big eyes focused on you, every part bare to him, every trace of your soft skin sticking to his,

He groans louder, head falling back once he feels the warmth of your slippery cunt coat his dick

A scene he had masturbated to more time he can recall,

nothing could compare to feeling your slick run along his shaft, to see your perky tits squeezed up in front of him,

You're long gone with all sanity, kissing and licking up his neck to elicit his pretty sounds, now from inside the room instead from outside the walls,

He massages the flesh on your hips, softly grinding you on him while you busy yourself with his neck,

The tip of his stiff cock perfectly hitting your clit with every roll of your hips

"Please kook, i need you" you whine, arms swung behind his neck, your wet, needy heat pressed firm against his hard cock,

He bites his lips, taking your cheek in his hand with a look so alluring you can't stand another second longer without him inside you

"So eager bunny, so so needy aren't we?" He smiles before pulling your face up to his, chasing after your soft lips

You moan, nodding slightly in response

While his lips kiss away at yours, his palms wander down your waist, holding your smaller form pressed onto his,

Without so much as an effort, you're lifted softly, laid on your back while he towers over you,

"Gonna take me well won't you?" He teases, running his finger down your needy pussy, begging to be filled with him,

The tip of his dick twitches, precum already dripping out from the sight of your aching heat, 

He humms, reaching for a condom

"Gonna take it well kook promise" your reply is close to a whisper, laid sprawled out on your back while he's in front of you, wrapping the condom over his desperate cock,

Aching as much as you, he slaps his dick against your clit a few times,

"Be good, yeah?" he says, running his tip along your folds, 

It's impossible to muster up any reply, only pathetic pleas and whines leave your lips, quivering, eyes half lidded

That doesn´t satisfy him enough, needing to hear you

"Words baby, come on, you can do it pretty" he repeats, stroking your bottom lip with his thumb,

you take his thumb into to your mouth briefly as a way to make space for time,

"Gonna be good" you whimper, stroking his stomach with your fingers

"That´s right bunny, good girl" he cooes, running his hand down your body until it rests on your inner thigh, his cock lining up with your entrance

"so tight oh god" he says, pushing his length into you inch by inch,

Filling you to him, molding you to his form,

"So deep- nhh" you're pleading, whining, almost involuntary your back is arching, craving for him to reach every crevice of your body,

As if it had been wating for him to enter, to be welcomed

"Mhmmm bunny, look at you, taking me so well" he mutters, slowly thrusting into you, with each push of his hips, 

Of his strong from meeting your fragile, equally vulnerable state,

A loud whimper escapes your lips,

 "Sound so pretty, prettiest girl look at you baby" he hums, one of his veiny hands reaching to squeeze your breasts, he tugs at your nipple, earning a loud moan from you

His tongue darts out to swipe across his lips, grunting, eyebrows furrowed in concentration,

then, hips angle, hands pushing into your own soft ones, pulling him in deeper,

"You feel so good kook! So mh- so full" you stutter out, eyes rolling into the back of your head

He's on top of you, but he's everywhere,

His scent lingering on your skin, in your senses, his voice and the way he groans engraved into your memory, addicting you to him,

His hands and lips claiming each and every spot as his, you belong to him now,

"You're so pretty, fuck so tight" he moans lowly, kissing you shortly after, 

You know it now, the final part of him

Once his small moans pick up in sync with the pace of his powerful thrusts, 

You can't help but sing along,

Singing his name like it was the most beautifully composed melody known to you, the only thing on your mind

Him, 

His kisses

His cock

His fucking face

Over and over the melody leaves your lips, 

"Kook! Kook!Kook!"

A song familiar to you, one you heard countless of times slipping through your paper thin walls,

Only now you are the one singing it.

"Thats it bunny, sound so good" he groans into your shoulder, savoring every inch of your skin he can kiss while thrusting his hips into you,

You tighten around him, feeling the knot in your stomach close to snapping,

"Mhh fuck baby gonna come for me?" He asks, licking along your ear, his hands still secured on your hips to hold you still as he pounds,

The flesh of your full hips turning white under his tight grip, but you don´t care,

It feels too good

"Yes kook gonna come" you gasp, the sensation of his finger rubbing small circles along your puffy, swollen clit overwhelming you,

"Come for me, pretty, doing so fucking good" 

The knot in your stomach snaps, shaking through your system loudly, wrecking beneath him with a loud moan that seems so strange coming from your voice,

Uterlly submitted to him, your hands digging into the skin of his shoulder, leaving a trace of evidence that you painted him,

Stained him with your body,

With your wholeness.

He knew too, that he'd be addicted now 

"Good girl that's it baby, came so well- fuck" his voice rings softly in your ear,

His head lifting from your shoulder,

Once his drained eyes meet your face,

So flushed out, pink and sweaty, pleasure coating your skin in the most darling ways,

He's never seen someone so flawlessly beautiful,

Hard, slow thrusts follow your orgasm, allowing you to enjoy it to the very last drop of your essence that has dripped on to him,

Also allowing him to reach his own high, overtaken by your beauty, by the way you feel colliding with his body,

"Gonna come bunny, feel so perfect ´round my cock" he grunts, leaning his face down to press a hasty kiss on your swollen lips,

Eyes closing, the time stops for him,

Stops for the feel of his lips moving against yours,

For the sounds that are trapped below the kiss, 

And that's when he releases too,

Moaning a loud, deep moan into your lips, his hips halting inside you as he´s practically collapsing on top of your frame

The sounds of your breath panting onto each others face comforting you from the intensity

"Did you.. feel good too?" you pant, moving your nails along his back,

He places a small kiss on your cheek, "You´re perfect bunny, don´t worry" he says with averted eyes, barely able to be kept open well into the night

Shielding you from his smile, from the one placed on your face as well,

So close to yours,

Beneath the tilt of his head, creeping closer while focused on your lips,

There lies something much deeper, bubbling inside your entirety

Once his soft lips lock on yours, his smile slight but you feel it, feel it through the soft motions, 

Once you realize he's stroking your hair, fingers tangling through your messy strands,

Even the pounding of your heart doesn't seem to matter anymore.

"Let me get you cleaned bunny" he mumbles against your lips before getting up for a warm towel.

[barcaatthemoon]

familia || alexia putellas x reader ||

how alexia realizes that you're the one.

"amor, what is taking you so long?" alexia huffed as she tried walking into her bedroom. her body hit the door, which didn't budge an inch since you had locked it. alexia groaned, pounding on the door until you walked over to open it. "what is taking you so long? if you do not hurry up, we will miss dinner completely."

"don't rush me, i'm almost done," you told her. alexia whined as she leaned against the doorframe. you looked ready, which was the frustrating part. however, alexia knew how you were, and you'd be insistent that something was missing.

"well, you could have fooled me," alexia said sarcastically. you swatted at her shoulder for the comment. alexia was unbothered, aside from a few dramatic noises as you sifted through your jewelry to find the perfect piece.

all of alexia's whining would be over the moment that she saw what you were looking for. the only issue was, you had entrusted alexia to put it back in your jewelry case after it was picked up from the cleaner's. several of your pieces were not in their rightful places, which meant that alexia had definitely been in the case, but you couldn't find the necklace.

"what are you even looking for?" alexia asked you. you held up your hand to silence her. you needed every bit of your concentration to find this necklace. you had met alexia's mother and sister separately many times, but rarely would both of them be together while meeting you. there were always game days, but those meetings tended to be rather brief.

"here it is!" you exclaimed as you pulled it up from a spot opposite to where you had asked alexia to put it. you were very particular about where your things went, something that alexia often made fun of you for. your spaces in her apartment were often much more chaotic, but you swore up and down that it was all perfectly arranged.

"a-are you sure that you want to wear that one?" alexia asked as she watched you put it on in the mirror. you were beyond certain that you wanted to wear this necklace that alexia had bought you. it was a choker style necklace with an 'a' charm in the center, something that she had bought after a lengthy discussion about how open you were going to be about your relationship. alexia wanted to keep things more private, but compromised with the necklace.

"of course i do. i like to wear it whenever i can," you told her. alexia smiled as she walked over to pull you into her arms. she pressed several kisses to the side of her face, all of them trailing towards your neck. "now, let's go. come on, we don't want to keep your mother waiting."

…

alexia knew to expect eli fretting over her. it always happened during their monthly family dinners. alba usually showed up earlier or even the night before, so eli had plenty of time to fuss over her youngest. alexia tended to be a bit busy, so she couldn't stick around as much.

"oh look at you, far too skinny. alexia, aren't you feeding this poor woman? you and i both know that i made sure you could cook properly before you left this house!" eli was quick to push past alexia and straight towards you.

you laughed nervously as eli pulled you further into the house. your recent weight loss was less because of alexia's lack of cooking skills and more due to the coaches and trainers putting you on a diet. in fact, alexia had been vehemently against it whenever it was first brought up at training. if anything, you swore that alexia had been trying to soften you up in her spare time.

"mami, i swear it is not me. the coaches have put (y/n) on a cut," alexia explained. you thought that she sounded a bit frantic, but you didn't think anything of it.

"well that is just stupid. she's already practically a skeleton." eli prodded at your ribs, causing you to chuckle a little.

"i promise eli, i am fine. a little cranky, but ale takes it with a smile and is very patient with me," you said. eli seemed to relax a little at that, but she still seemed a bit unhappy.

"well, why don't you take a seat at the table while alexia and alba bring the food out," eli told you. she led you over to the table where two glasses of wine were already waiting. alexia pouted as she shuffled into the kitchen to find alba drinking something a little stronger.

"mami's been so excited about (y/n) joining us. she didn't even tell me that i haven't been eating enough," alba huffed.

"at least mami loves her," alexia reasoned. she was feeling a little jealous at her girlfriend taking up all of her mother's attention, but alexia was more than happy that you got on with her family well.

"she loves her so much that she's forgotten about her actual children," alba grumbled. alexia swiped the bottle out of alba's hands, taking the last couple of drinks for herself in one big swig. the bottle was dropped into the trash before the girls grabbed the food and brought it out.

unsurprisingly, eli piled food onto your plate, despite your reminders that you were on a cut. alexia promised to finish whatever you couldn't, despite her plate being bigger than yours. while they had you on a cut, alexia was on a bulk. she couldn't spend as much of her training with the team as she would have liked, so she had spent that extra time lifting, which you were very appreciative of.

"so, i was looking, and there's a play on one of your upcoming off weekends. it's right after you get back from london. i was wondering if you wanted to go," alba said as she turned towards you and alexia.

"that sounds fun," you told her.

"but we might go out. it's been a while since i've had time to take (y/n) out. i was thinking ibiza," alexia said. alba frowned as she turned fully towards you, her subtle way of letting alexia know that she wasn't invited.

"well, we've got a pretty nice vacation in france coming up in the summer. besides, alba and i have been talking about going out to see another play. we had so much fun the first time." despite how gentle you were being, alexia knew whenever she had been rejected. you were choosing to spend time with alba over her, which was a nice thought, but alexia hated it. she no longer wanted you and alba to be friends with each other now that it was taking up her time with you.

"i mean, you do whatever you want," alexia huffed. she crossed her arms over her chest as she turned her attention to her food. alba was quick to come in and distract you from alexia's little sulking session. she knew that you'd go back on your agreement to go to the play, even though you had been wanting to for months now, and alexia hated going to the theater with you.

…

"alright, you take good care of yourself, nena. don't let that one get you down too much, okay?" eli pulled you into a tight hug. you nodded, thanking her for inviting you to dinner before you went over to alba. alexia and her mother spent a little longer on their goodbyes, but you were sure it was just because eli's attention had been on you for a good portion of the night.

"bye albs, i'll see you for brunch?" you asked. alba pulled you into a hug as she shook her head.

"sleep in, cook for alexia, she needs you more than i do," alba said. the two of you looked at alexia, who looked very pensive. you were afraid that she thought dinner hadn't went well as she pulled you away from alba and towards the car. you weren't surprised when alexia just shoved her sister away as they muttered their goodbyes to each other.

"i had fun tonight. thank you for letting me come with you." you knew that you sounded nervous, but you couldn't help it. alexia pulled onto the road and kept her focus on it. the car ride home was silent, something that only made you feel worse. alexia didn't talk to you until the two of you were dressed in comfortable clothes and just sitting in the living room together.

"te amo," alexia said as she placed her hand on your thigh. you glanced over at her. alexia had an unreadable expression on her face, the same one that she always did whenever she was rewatching old games. "my family does too. mami would adopt you if she could, and alba really likes spending time with you. i didn't think that i could get that again, not so quickly."

"you're not mad about tonight?"

"i couldn't be mad about my family loving you. if anything, i am elated because it means that every feeling that i have about you is right. i could never love somebody who didn't get along with my family. i can't wait for the day whenever we get to bring little babies with us to my mami's for the weekend."

"babies?" you questioned. alexia nodded as she moved to sit on your lap. it was a rarity that alexia got like that with you, so you just sat back and accepted it. "how many exactly?"

"two, maybe three. three little putellas girls. one of them will have your eyes, and even if she smiles like me, they'll still light up like the sun when she does. the second, she'll just like me, stubborn and maybe a little too serious, but she'll love like you. she'll love so much like you that her heart will break, but we'll be there to pick up the pieces every single time until her sisters are old enough to help. the third one, she'll look like you, and i won't ever be able to tell her no." alexia had a dreamy look on her face as she told you about the little family that she had planned in her head. you had never thought of a family like that, but alexia was doing a good job of convincing you.

"you know, i'll have to have your last name first. unless you're going to carry," you told her. alexia hummed thoughtfully as she thought about it. if alexia carried, she'd have to retire, but you could still bounce back from a pregnancy.

"then tomorrow, we go ring shopping," alexia stated. you wanted to make a quip about her actually asking, but you already knew there as no use in her proposing. you had wanted to marry alexia for a couple of weeks now, but you didn't want to push her before she was ready. "maybe if mami and alba can make it, we can go to the courthouse."

"even if they can't, i'd still marry you." you leaned forward to press a kiss to her cheek, unsurprised when alexia turned her head so that you caught her lips.

"if that's the case, then we'll go after breakfast tomorrow. i don't want to wait any longer than i have to in order to make you mine."