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gutsby · 1 month ago

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Father Figure

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Parents’ Weekend looks a little different this year with Joel showing up in the place of your father.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Dad[dy] kink. Age gap. Oral (m!receiving). Premature ejaculation (Joel cums in his pants while he’s kissing you AS REAL LOVERS DO). Drinking and drug use. Gratuitous dad rock references.

Note: We all saw that video. This was begging to be written.

Another note: For a more immersive read of the pregame, listen to my freshman year Kegs & Eggs playlist (yes, it sucks).

Word count: 19.0k

Freud would’ve had a field day with this shit.

Really, there was no sane explanation for the obsession that seized you and your friends come Parents’ Weekend every year. But there it went. Again. Like clockwork, all the forty- to fifty-something fathers arrived for their first meal on campus. Like the cock-starved coed she was, your roommate bumped your shoulder as you walked and nodded to the first set of families approaching the dining hall. Out of the pack, you spotted four grey heads.

“Would, would, would, and would,” Aly observed, almost clinically. Her strides were long and resolved in their path

“That one could get it.” Her brother shrugged on your other side. He tipped his chin up, then added: “Look.”

And look you did. The batch of men, women, and all their college-aged children struck you as little more fun to ogle than your average wall of paint waiting to dry. Though the moms and dads were, admittedly, the kind of attractive you rarely saw outside an L.L. Bean magazine—as were all the rest of the kempt and polished crowd that populated your school—you were hungry as fuck. You’d agreed to join your roommate’s family for the kickoff banquet of the weekend, and you needed food. On top of that, you’d sworn off middle-aged men forever.

Aly and her brother didn’t know that, though, so you played the game and trudged ahead. When a handsome blue-eyed man born in 1970-something stood back and held the door open for your trio going in, you had to fight back a smirk at the look Aly gave him after thanking him.

“Oh, he wanted me bad,” she hissed once safely inside.

“Looks a bit like Rob Lowe,” you offered noncommittally.

“What about your dad? Is he gonna be here tonight?”

That last fragment of conversation had come from Aly’s brother, and the curiosity in it was sincere. Then he’d wiggled two dark brows your way and said he bet your dad was a silver fox like no other, and you’d had to roll your eyes before strolling into the wide open dining area. You were late; the food, evidently, was all already served.

“My dad’s at home with a broken femur, so…no,” you answered slowly. Starting to weave your way through a sea of round tables and following Aly’s lead as you did, “Probably not your type. Just old. Very embarrassing.”

You stuck your index in your mouth and pantomimed gagging, and the sophomore beside you just laughed.

“Yeah? Desperate, too?” he challenged.

“Pathetic, really,” you replied.

For a second, you felt a pang of guilt at the way you were describing your father. Surely he couldn’t deserve being characterized like that. Then you recalled how he’d boned your mom’s best friend while he was married, had never really made amends after the fact, and was still fucking said mistress’s brains out on the reg to this day.

You’d done plenty of wrong behind his back, to be sure, but that kind of took the cake for fucked up betrayals. He could stand for a little bit of ribbing every now and then.

Presently, Aly was paving the way straight toward a pair of bright and beaming faces at a table near the back.

“Our parents named us after a goddamn Grateful Dead song and the city they first saw the band in concert. Nobody does pathetic better than Scott and Michelle.” She waved her arm in a wide arc and grinned over there.

And you would’ve gladly countered that no, that actually makes them very fucking funny and cool, but the chance to do that was gone in a moment—the next had you approaching their table and meeting with big hugs.

Even for you, who had never seen these people before in your life, there was a warm welcome. You got long, suffocating embraces and cheery greetings of, ‘Oh, you must be Aly’s roommate!’ and ‘We’re sorry you got stuck with our shithead kid’ before you had a grin plastered on again and were being ushered to sit down.

You took note of the little placards opposite each chair, counted four, five, six of them altogether, with an empty spot beside your own, per usual, and you took your seat.

“Dallas, honey, I love you,” the woman across the table, Michelle, said with all the restraint she could conjure up, “I love you to pieces, but what the hell are you wearing?”

That steered the conversation in a decidedly light, playful direction from the start, with Aly’s brother defending his decision to be decked out in full school-sponsored athleisure tooth and nail. He’d been recruited to play lacrosse, so naturally, wearing the far-too-tight crimson lycra was all part of the deal. Aly insisted that he just wanted to show off the biceps he didn’t have, Scott hypothesized it was the crisp, wintry Boston air that had made his son dress like a total douche, and Dallas tried bringing the inquisition to a speedy end by lifting one middle finger up and flipping his napkin into his lap.

“Fuck you guys, I’m hungry,” he declared, emphatic. Fighting the urge to laugh along then grabbing a fork.

Just as fast as he’d picked it up to dig in, though, his mom was slapping the silver utensil out of his hand.

“Not yet,” she chided.

“Why? We’re all here,” Dallas groaned.

“Because,” his father returned, scrubbing at the stubble on his chin before casting a quick look around him, “We’re still waiting on one more to join us. See?”

With that, Scott nodded toward the card next to you, and immediately, your cheeks warmed. You shook your head, mouth working a little less fluidly than you would’ve liked as you piped up and told them—assured them all, rather:

“My dad’s not coming. He got a little, uh…hurt at work.”

And you were certain that would be the end of it. You’d just moved to grab a fork yourself, eyeing the plate full of food in front of you then, when another hand stopped you on the spot. It was Aly beside you, grip insistent as she gave your wrist a little shake, and in your periphery, you could see her tilt her head the opposite direction.

She was staring, silent—totally unlike herself.

Normally when something crossed her path nearby to make her twist her whole fucking neck to get a glimpse, it was followed by a dry remark. A comment, a compliment, or a lewd invitation to fuck me, please.

While the last of the three clearly wasn’t an option to use around her parents, you at least would’ve expected to hear something. When nothing came, you turned your head too, having just snagged a bite of roast beef on your fork and shoveled it in before looking that way.

You followed her gaze and nearly inhaled the food.

With a startled gasp and a ‘Christ!’, your eyes widened to find a man who wasn’t your father at all—just his best friend and your ex-fuckbuddy, Joel Miller, walking over.

It was a sight you weren’t prepared to see in a million years. What the everliving fuck this man was doing two thousand miles from Austin, Texas, on your college campus, striding into the very first meal of Parents’ Weekend, looking like that, was so far beyond your comprehension you couldn’t speak. You just stared and sucked in the sharpest, strangled breath, fought back a cough, and tried not to die swallowing a cube of meat.

From the way that man was approaching you now, asphyxiation might not be the worst, you thought idly.

Joel’s here.

Joel’s here, and he’s wearing slacks and a button-up.

Joel’s wearing business casual, and he’s walking over.

Who the fuck does this man even think he’s trying to—

“Sorry I’m late,” Joel cut in, smile bright and easy on his face. Then, stepping behind your chair, leaning down:

“Hey, sweetie. How are ya?”

He kissed the top of your head.

The tone sealed his fate completely.

Joel was pretending to be your father.

This wasn’t his brightest idea.

Call him sick, insane, selfish, besotted, or rotten straight down to his core, Joel Miller was no longer one to care. He had a goal in his head. Less than a week ago, you’d left him high and dry in Austin after having told him you loved him—in the middle of climax, but aloud, no less—and the month before that, you’d left him again. Back to college, where you could happily pretend he didn’t exist.

Tonight, he wasn’t letting that happen. This weekend, Parents’ Weekend, was of course reserved for families, but Joel knew your father wasn’t coming. He knew you wouldn’t be expecting your dad or anyone else to be there, and since you’d taken to the usual course of ignoring all his calls and texts, he felt he’d had no choice.

You couldn’t stay closed off like this forever.

Eventually, you’d both have to reckon with what this was and how to move forward, or the mess of the last month would never change. You would never believe he saw you any differently from a one-off hookup or a taboo outlet of pleasure. And if that was all you saw him as, so be it. But he had to get the truth of it out now, one way or another.

Even if he had to roleplay the father figure and play the most fucked up game of paternal charades known to man, he’d get the answers he needed this weekend.

You were good at games. Unfortunately, Joel was better.

He’d take this fake-out to the max and be the best faux father you’d never asked for. Maybe you’d hate him for it.

As he’d squeezed your shoulder and sat down beside you at the table, felt your gaze heavy and stunned on his, he also couldn’t help but hope you might still love him after.

“Scott Ingram. Pleasure to meet you.” The broad hand had been extended his way before he was even fully seated. The face across from him was kind. Intrigued. Tinged with a faint trace of curiosity, “So you’re dad?”

“Stepdad, yeah.” Joel had had to leave a bit more room for plausibility before he’d made his formal introduction.

Then he’d met Michelle. Aly. Dallas. The latter two more piqued with interest than the first, as though unsure of what they’d just been told, but willing to go on anyway.

“Old and pathetic my ass,” Dallas had murmured your way, low enough for Joel to know those words were meant for only you to hear. You stiffened in response.

“So glad you could make it up! Is your leg doing better?”

Aly had smiled warmly over at him, and Joel had only hesitated a second. Then he remembered his friend.

“Oh, my— yeah. Just…peachy. Yeah. All healed up.”

He didn’t flit a look to you; he could feel the searing imprint of your gaze and the way you hadn’t bothered to hide your frown when he’d referenced the leg he’d never broken. The way you could’ve pulverized the napkin in your lap to dust from how hard you were squeezing it in your fist—you didn’t like to admit it, but that was your nervous tic, and Joel knew it well. He propped his elbows on the table and didn’t miss the way a head turned his way from a neighboring group. Then another. He hated every starch white button-up he owned with a burning passion, but he couldn’t deny this one was eye-catching.

Not that it mattered, really, because the only glossy gaze he cared to snag was presently nailing him with daggers in its path. Still, it was a comfort to know he’d make a good-looking corpse if that look of yours ever did kill him

“Oh, my, my, oh hell YES—”

The sing-song trill of a baritone beside him roused him from his trance. He looked over and saw Scott grinning.

“—honey put on that pa-a-a-a-a-arty dress!”

It was Michelle that finished the line for him, while they both bobbed their heads along to the Tom Petty song blasting overhead. Evidently, dad rock would be alive and well all weekend. Joel wasn’t mad to see that happen.

“You a Tom Petty fan?” Scott jerked his chin up to him.

Before he could answer, though, Michelle interjected:

“I’d say he’s more of a Simon & Garfunkel guy.”

Whatever the hell that meant. Joel smiled.

“Mom, Dad. Please stop,” Aly moaned.

“Seriously.” Dallas’s mouth was full.

And, just as he fought to swallow the heaping glob of food he’d just crammed in, his dad snapped his fingers.

“No, I know it! You’re a Billy Joel man, Joel. No doubt.”

Joel blanched as white as the shirt on his back. You coughed. He hadn’t even noticed you’d chanced a bite of food beside him, but now you were sputtering—choking on a morsel of beef or mashed potatoes or something—and he didn’t think twice. He pivoted right to you and dropped a hand on your back in the space between your shoulder blades. He patted you twice, eyes a little wider.

“Hey, you OK?”

Fleeting memories of a night not too long ago flashed through his mind: driving town by town, state after state, blaring Billy Joel extra loud in his Bronco with you riding shotgun. It had been something special between you then. Now, your gaze was on him like you despised him.

“I’m fine,” you answered, tone clipped.

You shrugged his touch away. Joel blinked back to Scott.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he said, thoughts occupied by you all the while, but he reckoned it was something his neighbor had wanted to hear, because he saw a satisfied little smile cross his lips, ‘I told you, Michelle.’

“Everybody likes Billy Joel, dad.” Aly rolled her eyes.

And Joel would’ve liked to look your way again. Maybe dropped the fatherly moue for half a second and flashed an apologetic look shared just between you and him. But then the conversation shifted; the whole table began to eat, more pleasantries and questions about home life and backgrounds followed, and all the talk from there converged on where they were planning to go out after dinner—how they’d make the very most of Parents’ Weekend. You sat back and ate in silence, mostly. You wouldn’t meet his gaze for even a moment, and when you rose from your seat to get another drink, Joel felt himself stand too, as if out of habit. He hadn’t meant to.

It hadn’t been his intention to follow you out of the dining area, strides swift to try and keep up, but he did.

It hadn’t been his goal to corner you by the soda dispenser, either. Away from the eyes of everyone else, or at least in a private enough space not to be seen by too many people, Joel felt a little more at liberty to talk. He lowered his voice and drew even closer then to speak.

“Sweetheart—”

You’d filled a cup halfway with water. As soon as he’d said that word, ‘sweetheart,’ you turned and chucked its contents directly in his face. Liquid splashed up at him, and for a second, Joel had only to stand there with his eyes closed and his body completely frozen in place.

Water dripped in silence before he wiped at his chin.

At the same time, you were tossing your cup aside.

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ call me that,” you growled.

Then, shortly: “What the fuck is your problem?!”

Honestly, he didn’t know. He opened his eyes.

And, just as he raised both hands in a semi-conciliatory kind of gesture, you scowled and backed away from him.

“You’re sick, Joel. Pretending to be my goddamn da—”

“I know. I know,” Joel winced as he spoke, wrinkles no doubt creasing even deeper along his face as he saw yours fall. You weren’t happy to see him in the slightest. “I know it’s fucked up. I just…needed to talk to you, hon.”

“About what?!”

He could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. He wanted to cup them in his hands, or else kiss the frown off your lips in a way that would be totally inappropriate for a stepdad to do, but already, he sensed his resolve was eroding. It didn’t matter, anyway, because you weren’t letting him get within an inch of you, based off your look.

“Darlin’,” Joel sighed, “There’s just so much—”

Of course, the next moment was punctured by a voice. His words were cut short; you were both forced to turn.

“It’s all settled now,” Aly declared with cheery conviction. She snagged a cup and started filling it up with Sprite, “Pregame at Dallas’. Seven Oaks after. Lucky’s after that. Maybe a brief intermission at The Alley, if you’re up for it. Afters at A.J.’s, probably. Depends what the vibe is like.”

Joel had barely processed half of what was said, and it still sounded like a lot from where he stood. He blinked.

Then Aly’s eyes fell to his collar, and she lifted a brow.

“You got a little…drinking problem there, Joel?”

He glanced down at the mess on his shirt and tried to smile with her. It was hard to fight the color jumping to his cheeks simultaneously. He scrambled for the words.

“Oh, uh—”

“Dad’s real smooth with it,” you cut in, suddenly, like the paternal moniker was nothing at all. You didn’t look back, “I’m fine drinking wherever. Your parents coming, too?”

Aly’s grin stretched even wider. It looked devious.

“They wouldn’t miss this bingefest for the world.”

At just the intonation of those words, Joel’s pulse sped up. He saw a knowing look pass between you and your roommate, and in a second, he sensed he was fucked.

He really shouldn’t be drinking tonight.

A hundred shots probably wouldn’t have been enough to kill it—this ringing in your head hurt like a motherfucker.

Joel wanted to talk.

Of course he wanted to talk.

Just on his terms, on his time, with your closest friends and their family members all assuming he was your dad.

Because that made a lot of fucking sense.

You’d meant to split from Joel the second you showed up. Dallas’ off-campus house was many things, but small and quiet were not among those descriptors, and you planned to use all of its space to your advantage tonight.

Simply put, the place was a glorified playground for college degenerates. Afforded the distinct honor of housing eight members of the Pi Kappa Alpha fraternity in 2,700 square feet for over fifty years, the Craftsman home was no small wonder to anyone who saw it standing today: the house was shit. Dallas loved it.

You’d enjoyed it, too, for at least the first year or two of college. Then you’d wisened up to the antics of a few too many numb-skulled Pikes, got tired of listening to the same ten tracks being blasted in your ears every other weekend, and decided you’d just stick to the bar scene, where at least patrons were prohibited from standing on elevated surfaces and breaking bottles over their heads.

When Dallas rushed, and eventually joined the fold last year, you’d been hesitant to go back. Then, when he’d promptly decked the first guy who tried dragging you up onto a table with him, you figured you could safely visit again and not have to worry while your friend was there. The kid did a pretty good job of weeding out assholes.

“My lady.” He stood and bowed before presenting you with a fifth of Pink Whitney like it was the finest wine.

The bottle was half empty. You’d been passing it back and forth for the last hour in between rounds of pong.

“Been sayin’ shit like that ever since he saw Gladiator II.” His housemate Cory called from closeby. He flicked his wrist once and sank his shot in the second to last cup.

“You are not General Acacius, brother,” Cory’s teammate Pete chimed in. With a lucky throw of his own, he hit the final Red Solo cup and shook his head like it was nothing.

You were all on the third floor, away from the noise downstairs. While the so-called ‘pregame’ surged ahead on first, in the basement, and outdoors, you’d managed to find relative quiet among eight or nine friends and acquaintances, plus a guy railing lines off a frisbee in the corner. Nobody knew where the fuck he’d gotten it from.

“I like to pretend,” Dallas said with a shrug. Then, once you’d taken a swig of the pink drink and handed it back: “My parents play next. Gavin, put the coke away, please.”

Gavin sniffed the air at least four times like he had a cold. Then he tucked his credit card back in his wallet, put the wallet in his pocket, and knocked the frisbee on the floor.

‘Yessir’ was all you heard before he was leaning back contentedly. The girls Cory and Pete had just played seemed equally indifferent as they sauntered off—likely looking to get their hands on whatever the hell else the redhead had in his jeans and quick to forget about the game. Blow was way too easy to spread at these parties, and clearly, no one gave a shit about redemption round.

“Gavin.” Dallas’ tone was a warning.

At the same time, his housemate had just snagged an ID where it was left on the table and held it up to the light.

“Hang on, it looks like this guy, uh…” Cory squinted to read the text on an apparently too-old driver’s license. “Looks like he called dibs on next round…Joel Miller.”

Your grip tightened on the spot. You said nothing. Cory was just then starting to remark that this dude’s the spittin’ fuckin’ image of that one guy from Game of Thrones, Dallas, come look, when the door to the room swung open, and in walked the man of the hour himself.

Joel was joined by Scott, Michelle, and a horde of others.

Well, maybe five in total. They were all freshmen girls.

Giggling, grinning freshmen girls who were quite literally hanging off his body on either side, or else trailing behind him, admiring him like he was the single greatest thing.

Where were all their fathers? That was your fake dad.

Christ, that sounded bad, and you hadn’t even said it.

When Dallas offered you the bottle again, you declined. You were more than just buzzed. And Joel was drunk.

Apparently.

And was he—well shit, were they trying to strip him?

One of the bubbliest girls from the group was tugging on Joel’s shirt. Three buttons were already undone, and a smooth, tanned patch of flesh glistened through the ‘V’ in the fabric. He’d been working up a sweat downstairs.

A sea of black-and-grey hairs peeking out through the trough of cotton was the last thing you saw before you had to look away. It was too familiar. And there you saw some girl fresh out of high school, feeling him, teasing at the material while she bounced on the balls of her feet.

“You are so lying!” she slurred, voice pitchy and shrill.

What was worse, you couldn’t even fault the girl for it. That had been you just a few short years ago, hadn’t it?

Beside her, her friend snagged his sleeve: “Show ussss!”

Scott and Michelle had approached the table where Dallas was setting up the cups for the next round and you were trying not to stare. You reckoned you were failing pretty miserably at the task when the next thing Mrs. Ingram did was lean in closer to you and whisper.

“Real hot commodity with the girls, isn’t he?” It was soft.

She was right.

You forced your gaze to your feet, pretending to assess the wet and sticky mess underneath them. You hummed.

“Yup. Real ladies’ man,” you answered quietly. Strained.

“They’re convinced he’s got some ink hidden under his shirt. That’s a creative way to get a man topless if I’ve ever seen one.” Scott chuckled next to you, tone teasing.

Something twisted in your chest, though you couldn’t quite place what it was. It hardly felt like jealousy at all—but that was worse, somehow. Joel was your stepfather in every other mind but yours and his, and here he was, soaking in all this attention that you couldn’t give to him.

Maybe that was for the best.

Joel deserved a woman he didn’t have to love in secret.

“OK, who’s up—Joel or mom and dad?” Dallas asked.

“I’m out. Joel can take my place. And don’t we—”

Pete snapped his fingers, then pointed at Cory.

“We forgot to grab the other keg, didn’t we?”

“Fuck me.”

“Let’s go.”

They were gone in a second. That left Joel, Scott, Michelle, plus one open spot. Dallas set the last cup.

“Who’s gonna be Joel’s partn—”

“ME!”

That had to have come from three girls, at least. One on the couch and two more on either side of Joel, along with a slew of hopeful looks from others in his orbit.

They’d dispersed some, thankfully. Though not physically clinging to your pseudo-stepfather and begging him to peel off his shirt, they stayed close.

One of them giggled and nudged her friend: “Maya can!”

The girl who’d just been playing tug-of-war with the front of Joel’s button up waved her hand in mock indignation.

“I suck at pong. You go, Claire,” she crooned.

It was clear from the sideways glance the first girl had flashed that she wanted Joel to protest. Maybe insist that she play anyway, if you had to guess. It was all so confusing—what with how this group was flirting, and fighting, and insisting simultaneously that they couldn’t possibly play, even though they’d like to, but maybe…

Your skull started ringing again.

You were just about to turn to leave, when Dallas cut in:

“Sorry, ladies. Gonna be a Daddy-Daughter duo tonight.”

Then he gestured to you, beckoned to Joel, and grinned. Your stomach could’ve plunged to that floor you’d just been pretending to study. You quickly jerked your head.

Even Joel, for all his calm and unaffected dealings, the pretty damp mop of hair hanging in ringlets against the sides of his face, and the way he kept pretending not to be concerned by the flock of girls, had to pause a beat. You saw his throat work. Before you could try and decipher the look that was crawling up his face, you made the split-second decision to interject yourself.

“No, Dallas. I’m not playing again.”

You tried to avoid grinding your molars.

This time, the tone he heard wasn’t one of a thinly veiled acceptance—something begging to be disputed when it tried to decline the offer—but instead an emphatic ‘no.’

No way were you playing another game with this man.

Joel already had your head fucked ten ways to Sunday by being here at all, and now you had to pretend to be platonic, his goddamn beer pong partner, while a gaggle of freshmen girls sat frothing at the mouth for his dick?

Yeah, but no.

Hard fucking pass.

You didn’t care what it looked like. You shot Dallas a look, grabbed a stray Solo off the table, and made your way to the door, calling something over your shoulder about being too tired to play, and offering your spot to Maya.

That should make your old man happy enough.

It wasn’t like he could do anything here with you.

And then you left. Before you did, though, you passed Gavin and the mysterious white bag he was starting to fish out of his pants, and without thinking, you grabbed his hand. You didn’t like doing coke, had never seen the point in taking your level of intoxication that far out on an ordinary night, but, all things considered, this evening was anything but normal. You deserved some relief. If that couldn’t come in the form of Joel packing all his shit and leaving, then so be it. But you weren’t about to hang around and play the nice and polite stepdaughter when all you wanted to do was scratch your fucking eyes out.

A few lines wouldn’t be the worst way to start the night.

Joel wasn’t drunk.

He wasn’t tipsy, either.

And even if he had been, he wouldn’t have appreciated the way this hazel-eyed firecracker had nearly crushed his toes from how hard she’d jumped up and down at hearing you abdicate your position. Maya had shrieked, and Scott and Michelle hadn’t been able to fight back smiles, and trying not to wince too hard, Joel had politely excused himself. He’d claimed that he needed some air.

The oxygen he found down the hallway a few minutes later was stale as shit, but he couldn’t exactly complain.

He’d asked for this, after all: the thumping bass, shaking floors, passageways that reeked of weed and cheap perfume, and girls that refused to let go of his neck.

Well. He hadn’t asked for that last thing.

Thirty years ago, he might’ve found it cute—what Maya and Claire and every other glossy-gazed Phi Mu seemed to be offering with every bat of their lashes. Now, if the arms latched around his throat weren’t yours, the idea just made him sick. He cleared his throat and walked.

And before long, his feet had carried him to the end of the hallway. Where in the hell had you gotten off to?

Would you be back soon?

And why had you taken that kid with you?

Joel’s palms were sweaty by his sides. He didn’t like being kept in the dark—didn’t think traveling some 2,000 miles to be closer to you would still leave him wondering like a fucking idiot if he would see you again.

Then he reached for the nearest door. A bathroom.

The door was just cracked, allowing a sliver of light to shine through and a peek at a sea of tile flooring to greet him. Joel pushed on the knob without thinking to knock.

When he stepped inside, he had to stop.

It was too much to process and walk at once.

For the first time in his life, he felt shell-shocked.

You were on your knees in front of that red-haired fucker. Stabilizing one hand on a denim-clad leg in front of you, patting his thigh, having him murmur something back—probably words of encouragement for how nice your mouth felt around him—and then tilting your head up.

Joel could only see you from behind. His vision was red.

“What the fuck are you DOING?!” he bellowed out.

The two of you leapt apart, your head jerking back.

He wasn’t thinking. Joel blew straight past you and went for him, the little pencil-dicked Pike who’d just had his dick down his stepdaughter’s throat, presumably, and he grabbed him by the shirt. He shoved him hard against the bathtub on the wall, watched him flail a few steps, and then, before the kid could recover his balance, Joel shoved him again. He might’ve tripped further back and fallen into the tub, had the older man not reached for him again—and reared back to punch him square in the face.

That blow never landed.

In the next instant, a smaller body was forcing itself in between him and the kid, and the only other thing Joel could see through his own blinding rage were your two eyes—wide and panicked and horror-stricken, clearly.

“JOEL.”

Still not prepared to retreat, Joel reached out again.

Your hand knocked his down in a blink. Hard.

“J— Dad. Dad. Stop. Please don’t hit him.”

Suddenly, that tone was approaching a plea. You must’ve caught a glimpse of the rage pulsing through his veins and sensed it might’ve been too much for him to control—but of course, Joel knew better. He could always stop.

He stepped off and turned to you at once, teeth bared.

“How the fuck could you even—” he started again.

“I’m sorry, dad,” you broke in, words sounding like a sob, “It’s not his fault. Really. I— I didn’t mean for you to see.”

Sucking some other guy’s cock. Yeah, of course not.

Joel’s face flared with an anger unlike anything he’d felt in years, and if it weren’t for the skittish sack of shit stumbling away, and the warning that was starting to radiate off your skin, he would’ve liked to knock him out.

He might’ve, if the kid hadn’t run out of the room.

If you hadn’t turned slightly, he might’ve yelled again.

And then he saw it, from where you’d pivoted—the toilet.

Sitting on the smooth white porcelain lid in three thick stripes, the sight greeted him like a punch in the gut.

He wasn’t sure what it meant for an excruciating second. He stared. Then he processed what that substance was.

You’d been crouched over the toilet doing a line of coke.

He wanted to feel relief. For a moment, maybe, he did.

When your eyes narrowed on his and you shook your head in a scowl, it didn’t feel like he should be happy. Or ready to celebrate this latest discovery. Instead, realizing that you hadn’t been blowing a guy in this bathroom but were simply doing drugs in front of him, Joel felt bile jump up his throat. It was like a knot the size of his fist, and he wasn’t sure how to react, but he couldn’t stand that look on your face. You were just as angry as him.

“What the hell was that all about, Joel?!” you snapped.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut back in:

“Sorry, sorry—I mean ‘dad.’ You fucking asshole.”

“And this is why you up and left?” Joel hissed.

“I just—”

“Do you realize how dangerous that is?”

“I didn’t—”

“What that could’ve been laced with?”

He pointed to the cocaine on the lid of the toilet—apparently there hadn’t been enough space on the skinny porcelain sink to set up your lines—and at the same time, to Joel’s amazement, you sank to your knees.

“Well, I don’t know, dad, why don’t we test some out?”

And then you swiped a casual touch through a line and lifted your index to your mouth. With your other hand, you pulled at your bottom lip a little, and were evidently about to test your drugs the old fashioned way: by rubbing the powder against your gums to see if it made them numb. Joel swatted at your wrist before you did.

“Don’t,” he growled. Without even realizing it, he reached and grabbed your chin. His fingers engulfed half your face in an authoritative, upward-tilting grip. “Put that stuff anywhere near your mouth, and you will regret it.”

That didn’t seem to stir you, but your hand stayed put.

Joel stepped away just as quickly. He went to the door.

He shut it.

And when he returned, you hadn’t moved from where you’d been knelt. He was glad. Something quiet and dull throbbed between his ears, though he wasn’t recovered enough from the shock of the last few minutes to really investigate that. He just stood back over you, frowning.

His voice was lower when he spoke again:

“What am I gonna do with you, honey?”

It was a question as much for himself as it was for you, and your lips twitched at the end of it. You shrugged, and you sank back onto your heels, peering up as you did.

“You thought—” you started, soft.

“I thought you were in here blowin’ that little shit.”

Your smile split into a grin. Your eyes glistened.

“Is that so?”

Joel didn’t have the strength or the presence of mind to answer, so instead, he just nodded. His scowl deepened.

“You and me,” he resumed, having just exhaled a breath, “We’re gonna have ourselves a little chat later. Got that?”

And he meant it. Not just about drugs and other men and the dangers of accepting cocaine from strangers. He had more to tell you tonight than his overwrought mind was likely capable of sharing right now, but he’d say it.

Soon.

Eventually.

Once he got this bulge in his slacks sorted out.

With you, it was never a conscious decision, and it rarely ever occurred at times it was appropriate to happen. Like when your friends and their family and half of the Pike fraternity weren’t all milling about around this house. When he hadn’t almost decked a kid for giving you coke.

When you weren’t shuffling on your knees to greet the growing erection in his pants with a grin on your face.

“Will this ‘chat’ come before or after you fuck Maya?”

That was it.

Joel seized hold of your head again—this time, from the back. One palm rounded the base of your skull and yanked your face forward, mushing your nose and your lips against the fabric of his pants in an obscene sort of kiss. He made you rub your face against the hardened tent there, and he groaned when you whimpered. The reverberations of it traveled from his groin to his brain in two milliseconds flat and made him think insane things.

Like having your mouth right now.

Taking from you here what he thought he’d almost lost.

The sight of your head hovering anywhere near another man’s crotch made it crystal-clear to him, though he’d known it well before: he wanted you. He needed to have you. How you could even crack the joke about a shred of his attention being elsewhere had him tightening his hand in a fist in your hair. He didn’t care if it felt wrong.

“You know what girls like Maya can do for me?” he said.

He tilted your head back so your gaze could find his. He didn’t let you answer, but he let you stare for a second, and then he worked your pretty parted lips over the front of his slacks again. He let the taut grey fabric tease the cusp of that opening, tasting a bit, before drawing back.

“That’s right,” Joel went on as if you’d just responded, “Nothing. Absolutely fuckin’ nothing. Open your mouth.”

And you did. Wider. From the look of it, there was spit pooling inside, and your tongue hovered just within it when your lips met the front of his pants. You cupped your mouth around his clothed erection and kissed it.

Your eyes were locked on his as you did. The sight felt extra obscene—Joel couldn’t ignore the fact that he was dressed in near-formal attire, and you had on jeans and a tight cropped tank. He looked polished and professional; you were a beaming pretty thing making space between his legs to kneel. You felt like a dream with your lips over his swollen, aching cock; Joel felt old. Paternal, almost.

Was it wrong to think you needed to be taught a lesson?

Of course it was. He wasn’t your dad. He didn’t do that.

But when you smiled up at him with your lips still brushing his straining bulge, Joel couldn’t resist the smallest impulse to wonder—what if he showed you?

What if he let you know exactly what he wanted, how he needed it done, and that he only ever craved it from you? If he couldn’t say it outright in words, he could guide you.

Teach you.

Your tongue traced the seam of his zip, and he groaned.

“Damn near gave your old man a stroke, y’know that?”

“I know,” you said softly. Kindly, “I’m sorry, daddy.”

His cock throbbed at that last affectionate word.

His hands couldn’t help themselves: one stayed planted on the back of your head, and the other made its way to his belt. He undid his buckle, button, and zip in a blink.

“And what was that prick’s name?” Joel grumbled.

“Gavin.”

Your mind seemed two million miles away from any shit-brained fratboy at the moment as your gaze fixed itself on the length he was working out of his pants just then.

When it bobbed out and got within an inch of your rapt expression, your lips parted on instinct; you leaned in.

Swiftly, Joel’s hand on your head halted the movement.

“Gavin, huh,” he returned, tone treading on patronizing. He knew you were salivating for that little pearl on his tip. He gripped your hair hard. “This what you’d do for him?”

You whimpered.

“No, daddy. No, just— just you.”

Joel hummed his approval but didn’t let you move. He watched you eye the head of his cock like there was no single sight more appetizing in the world, and then he saw you lick your lips. You’d get positive reinforcement.

He would take things slow, and by the end of it all, he hoped to have made it clear that this was what he wanted: you, and only you. That he didn’t want you doing this with anyone else other than him. Here, now, or ever.

The last was a lot to say, so he fed you an inch instead.

He let his cock slide between your lips and stretch them.

You breathed something soft and sweet at the first intrusion of his tip; your mouth cushioned that inch, and his head was immediately enveloped in warmth. Your tongue darted out to greet him in a gentle lick. Joel groaned again, and his fingers constricted in your hair.

“That’s it, honey,” he told you, “Suck on daddy.”

His hips hadn’t meant to jump, but the pleasure from just the cusp of your mouth was too much for him not to flinch a little. He stabbed another couple inches in that pliant ‘o’ and felt you work your jaw open to take him whole. You looked so obedient. You were doing so good.

You bobbed your head gently, and his hand didn’t need to coax you at all. You were hungry, mouth sliding up and down his thick, throbbing dick and leaving trails of spit in its wake. You wanted to please him now; he could feel it.

You had no idea what you did to him. All he wanted now. It was like trying to explain a color in words, and all the man could do was just hold your head in place and watch you take him. When your back straightened and one palm braced itself up against his thigh, the other about to curl around the base of his length, he shook his head.

He brushed that hand away and made it rest on his other leg, so you were left with just your mouth around him.

You peered up, confused. Joel was, too.

He wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to do, but he knew he had to lead the way. Make you see what he wanted you to by guiding your motions and filling your mouth the way he needed. He tried as much by shifting his left hand to meet the right at the back of your head. Gently, he pushed your face forward to suck more in.

“Breathe through your nose, baby. Wanna feel you.”

Feel you deeper, he should’ve said. Either way, it made for a slow and painstaking slide down your tongue—sensing you flatten it and inhale a shallow breath as he worked his way in—and at the stretch, you gagged a bit.

Joel eased up, just enough to let you flit your gaze to his.

“You wanna feel me, too, sweetheart?” he asked gently.

You nodded, mouth still full of cock. Your eyes glistened in a way that said you might’ve guessed there was more to it, but you weren’t exactly in a position to ask just what. You let the fingers of both his big hands splay against the back of your head, and your jaw slackened more. Your gaze stayed on his as his cock slid deeper.

In that, there was wordless, tranquil reprieve. The sight of his spit-soaked length stuffing your mouth, skin all shiny and wet, and the way he kept going further and further and further, until your soft pert nose grazed the hairs of his belly, made Joel’s member swell harder still. There was scarcely an inch in between your lips and his heft of stomach. Your eyes were still fixed on him, and as the seconds ticked by, there was moisture welling at the corners. Joel moved his hands to thumb at those tears.

“Good girl. You’re doin’ so good for daddy,” he praised.

And something stirred in the depths of his body when he felt you try to nod again, like you were thrilled to be giving him pleasure and wanted to show it in some way.

Joel could’ve stayed like that for hours if his dick would only have let him. As it was, though, he felt the stir in his stomach accompanied by something else—a familiar pinch, and a warning jolt of pleasure. He cursed quietly.

You’d just started. He’d barely got an inch down your—

“Fuck,” he cursed again, when he sensed you swallow around his dick. The head of himself was breaching somewhere deep within your throat, and he felt it.

This wasn’t what he’d planned. You’d taken him deep before—at your father’s birthday bash last month, actually—but then you’d been blowing him under a table. He couldn’t hold your gaze or watch your throat open around him, couldn’t see the minuscule wince in your eyes or try to brush that discomfited look aside with his thumbs in the way he could now. He felt it in the pit of his gut, though: he would burst if he didn’t slow down.

With that one grounding thought, Joel tried pulling out.

Your body below him responded in sharp protest.

‘Daddy, no’ seemed almost to jump off your tongue, though it was presently weighted down by his cock. Your nails worked deeper into the fabric of his pants, like the tight, possessive grip was all you could manage to let your intentions be known to him. Then the look flared in your irises, too. They were begging him to stay in place.

Joel obeyed. Though it was you on your knees for him, lips, tongue, and throat pulsing and sucking to give him the utmost pleasure, he felt pangs of powerlessness, too.

He couldn’t help it when your lips stretched more, when your mouth opened wider, and your throat took him in all the way. He was fucked. He let out a sharp, hoarse grunt to let you know as much, and he cursed out loud again.

And then, completely axing his every well-laid plan, Joel felt the first rope of cum unload from his throbbing tip. Then another. And another. And another hot flurry of pleasure cropped up from that place your mouth was presently attached to him, and this time, the wave was too much to be overcome. The whole thing flooded him.

Without a hope of beating out that primal instinct, Joel just cupped your face in his palms and let his climax fill your throat. He couldn’t think, and while you seemed a tad surprised at how early it came, you didn’t fight it, either. You simply sat back, peered up, and let him fuck your mouth in the gentlest, most desperate thrusts, mind likely eager to feel his spend paint your open throat.

You hardly had to swallow at all—hardly could swallow, with how deep he’d gone. His cum jetted in milky strings through your plush, wet channel, and Joel could feel it gliding down with just a moment’s hitch of resistance.

Impaled as you were, you gagged once, and he withdrew in the next instant. He didn’t wait for you to catch your breath or for his cum to get down inside you. He felt too much to be troubled now; he yanked you to your feet and drew you into him. He pushed you back against the sink.

Your legs latched around the backs of his, and your body was thrust against the mirror. It was tender, somehow. Joel didn’t fight to claim your lips or invade your mouth with stifling kisses; he just pressed you to the reflective glass and hedged you in under him. He kissed you gently.

In between movements against your body, he mumbled:

“I’m sick of missin’ you all the damn time, sweet pea.”

He wasn’t sure where it came from. It just came.

Much like he had, except the stringy ropes of cum that had spurted from his dick seemed far less of a mess than whatever the fuck was coming out of his mouth right now. He felt exposed as soon as he’d spoken it you.

Then he saw your lips twitch. You kissed him back.

Someplace within where your mouth slotted over his, you were able to get out a couple murmured words yourself.

“I wish you didn’t have to,” you returned in a whisper.

You snaked your arms around the back of his neck and kept kissing him, over and over again, like your body was just starting to melt, and the heat was making you dizzy.

Joel could relate. Every time you touched him, he felt it.

He gripped your legs where they were still curled around his sides, and he held you tighter to him. He pressed his torso to yours until he was half-sure he was hampering your breaths, and then he pulled back. Briefly. Panting.

When he opened his mouth to speak, you cut in for him:

“I wish you could��be here. I wish we didn’t have to…”

Hide.

Your mouth seemed to have your mind and your usual reservations beat by a mile. It was moving fast, like his. Before you could stop yourself, your thighs constricted around his hips, you pulled him in closer, and just as you were about to finish that last quick, splintered thought—

“We’re leeeeeeeeav—OH! Shit!”

Aly Ingram’s sing-song tone was shortly supplanted by a shriek. She’d thrown open the door, unannounced, and when she saw the two of you collapsed against the sink, Joel’s undone pants hanging precariously over his hips and your mouths scarcely two inches apart, she jolted.

Or jumped, really.

She almost leapt through her skin, it seemed, and before she could even begin to recover, she just slapped her hands over her eyes and stumbled back. She was drunk.

“I didn’t see that! I did not seeee—”

“Aly!” you half-hissed, half-groaned.

“I literally didn’t see shit. You’re all g—”

Before either you or Joel could utter another sound, or attempt to split apart, Aly let out a second shrill yelp. This time, it was because she’d just tripped over a trash can backing out. She’d only very narrowly regained her bearings, had grabbed hold of the doorknob and was dragging the door shut, when the girl all but sang again:

“Have fun, be safe! Don’t make babies!!”

Joel scarcely knew how to react to that.

As it turned out, your roommate was open-minded.

Ply her with four or five shots of tequila and a couple High Noons, and she’d probably believe the moon was made of cheese if you told her in a serious enough tone.

But your goal tonight hadn’t been to convince her of a lie—it was to get a big, ugly truth off your chest that you’d been hoping to keep under wraps this entire weekend.

Now, after getting caught with your fake stepfather’s jizz drying in your throat, you had had to come clean about this thing. It wasn’t a story you’d wanted to tell, but it was one that needed sharing given the circumstances.

Aly had laughed her ass off when you told her everything.

Blame it on the strobe lights, the thumping music, or the thick, fetid air of the bar you’d just arrived at, but Aly had laughed a lot. She’d squeezed her eyes shut and slapped the tabletop beside her, like that was the single most insane thing she’d ever heard, and why don’t you write her a How-To? She’d love some tips on boning old men.

“He’s not that old!” you’d protested over your beverage.

She’d bought the drink. She said news like this was cause for celebration, and you couldn’t deny that. Smiling as you spoke, you figured this was good.

In fact, you thought getting caught by your closest friend was one of the best things that could’ve happened, all things considered, because now you knew at least one person was supportive and in your corner regarding Joel. On top of that, you had someone to help cover your ass—if a touch or a look between you two was too suspect, she’d tell you. From the second your group had Ubered to the bar, she’d been keen to see you close…though not too close. Presently, she grinned and squeezed your leg.

“I think you two would make a damn cute couple.”

“Huh?” You had to shout over the music to be heard.

“A cute couple!”

“Come again?”

You were really trying your best, but the blare of Bon Jovi overhead was a bit too much. You leaned in closer to her.

“YOU AND JOEL WOULD MAKE A CUTE COUPLE!”

And, as if on cue, Joel and Aly’s father reappeared at the table, holding the drinks they’d left to buy. Thankfully, the volume in the room was near-deafening, and neither seemed to have heard a word of hers. Scott was nursing some bottom shelf whiskey concoction while Joel double-fisted two shitty beers beside him. You had to admit, the latter looked good from where you sat: one more button was popped on his icy white shirt and a smile was plastered on his face, eyes straying to you more often than they should. The moment after that, you were doubly grateful for the blast of ‘You Give Love a Bad Name’ in this bar—the next thing you knew, Joel was dropping his head casually and murmuring in your ear,

“Aly sure likes to stare, doesn’t she?”

Followed shortly by:

“Wanna give her somethin’ to watch?”

He was clearly joking. Your cheeks warmed anyway. Then, when he started to lift his head, he left a quick, parting kiss to your temple that could’ve been construed as a paternal gesture. To anyone else but you, him, and Aly, it likely was. Your gaze slid from Joel’s face to his forearms, where the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up. He smelled like pine, sweat, and Natty Light, and you were just about to tell him that somehow that combo worked for him, when Scott interposed, loud as hell.

“You ask her yet?!” he bellowed.

He knocked shoulders with Joel in a playful way, and the pair nearly stumbled sideways. Scott elbowed his ribs.

“He’s drunk as shit,” Dallas observed idly.

“Well, what’s he—” you began to say.

Before you’d even finished the question, your answer came in the form of Joel nodding, visibly pretty buzzed himself, as he waved his friend off with a shove and a laugh. Scott just grinned bigger as Bon Jovi gave way to Steely Dan over the speakers. Joel leaned back to you.

“Scott invited us to go skiing out in Jackson, Wyoming.”

“He loves planning trips drunk,” Michelle added.

“Like they’re best friends,” Dallas chuckled.

You ignored Aly’s half-concealed smirk on hearing that; you were too stuck on the look Joel was giving you. Like he was drunk, but dead serious—like he’d agreed to this.

Something set for a future date, however nebulous and far-fetched and stupid the idea may have been, made your insides stir a little all the same. You tried tamping it down with another sip of your drink, but you still shared a glance with Joel. He was watching you more intently.

“Is that something you’d wanna do, hon?” he asked.

You might’ve liked to warn him that he was drawing too close—that his breaths were too warm on your cheek and Aly was straightening in her chair, blinking harder—but anything even approaching a remonstrance was evidently never meant to leave your mouth, as the next second had you nudged off your barstool, taken by the hand, and dragged toward the bustling crowd at the center of the room. Scott had suggested dancing; his son had readily agreed and was now leading you out to the crowd himself. You snagged one fleeting look at Joel.

Mr. Ingram had been dying to get out there, apparently. Behind you, the man spun his wife the best he could through the jam-packed dance floor of students and parents bumping their way through the very best of the ‘70s and ‘80s. He took a few graceless turns himself; while Bob Seger, Bruce Springsteen, and AC/DC reigned supreme over the wide open space, he pulled some mildly impressive moves. More importantly, though, he didn’t give a shit how he looked. This encouraged your group to let loose a little, too, and you somehow found yourself burrowing even further into the sea of people.

Your arms were compressed on either side of you. Your shoulders were bumped, and nudged, and given little more than a quarter of an inch for your chest to expand in the shallowest of breaths. Every pull of your lungs was an effort, and still, you couldn’t help but smile as you ran a quick look over the heads of everyone around. This was fun. Private, even. With dozens of nameless, faceless bodies gyrating in time with the music, you could blend right in. You could pretend that everything was normal.

Even with the press of a familiar form at your back, you could pretend it was just the crowd forcing him there—that Joel had just sauntered in behind you by accident.

It was risky, to be sure. The lights above flashed in bright white bursts, undulating with every pulse of the song being played, and it wasn’t too far from you that Aly and all the rest of them were strewn throughout the crowd.

But Joel hadn’t seemed to have noticed. Beneath the myriad limbs of the bargoers around you and him, he moved a hand to your waist. It hovered precariously for half a second, then tightened. It drew you closer to him.

You tried to push it away on instinct, heart jumping in your throat: what if Scott or Michelle or anyone else turned their heads at that moment and found him touching you there? What if the grasp their eyes caught wasn’t the wholesome, blameless kind that was meant to be shared between stepfather and stepdaughter? Who the hell was supposed to do the explaining to them then?

Clearly Joel wasn’t all that concerned about it; he slid his palm back up your side and gripped your hip hard after you’d nudged him off. He took a daring step forward, and you could feel him shake his head behind you. Smiling.

“And if I made a joke about father-daughter dances—”

“I would kill you with my two bare hands, Miller.”

Your backside glanced off his front. It wasn’t so much a deliberate move on your part but a byproduct of the rhythm. Some soft rock song was coming to an end, and your body rolled gently with his. The friction was minimal. This kind of proximity was easy to be explained away, if Dallas ever happened to look in your direction—

“Joel!”

Something hard pushed into your ass. You had to steel yourself quick, eyes darting furtively about to make sure no one had seen what you’d just felt between your legs. Then you tried wriggling away, off of him, and were rewarded with another hand on your side. It gripped the flesh just above your hipbone with a tender conviction.

Joel’s lips grazed your cheek briefly. His grip loosened.

“See what you do to me?” he murmured, and the fingers that he’d eased around your waist were turning you back.

Facing him now, away from your group. More bodies filled in between you and them, and the force of that influx pushed you closer to Joel. It shoved you together. It almost couldn’t be helped—that was what you kept telling yourself, anyway—when your frame melded to his, and his hands lowered to your hips, and one finger worked its way through your taut, denim belt loop in a manner completely unbecoming of a normal stepfather.

That callused finger held you firm to him with your jeans. It didn’t give an inch, and his eyes on yours did the same.

You were drifting further out. This didn’t matter as much. Anyone who saw you now would just have to guess that you were Joel’s, and Joel’s was yours—if only for now.

Your lips and his were gravitating closer then, too. You were just about to part yours to speak, when one soft, opening sequence broke out in the air, and you groaned.

No fucking way.

An all-too-familiar mid-tempo tune flooded the room and coursed in and out of your skull with a low, rhythmic tick.

It was eerie. Dreamy. Nearly haunting in the way it rang out right here, right now, with Joel’s hold on your sides tightening more and more with every passing second.

You hoped like hell he didn’t know this song, though you were half-certain this was a big hit from back in his day.

When Joel tipped his head back and fell right in step with the swaying cadence, you weren’t left guessing for long. Of course this slick bastard liked George Michael.

Of course he did.

What more of an appropriate song to be dancing to now, other than fucking ‘Father Figure’ of all the throwbacks?

Joel lifted both arms in a half-shimmy, half-slide and flashed a shit-eating grin down at you. It was smug.

‘For one moment, to be warm and naked at my side.’

Joel raised his brows with it, as if hearing the lyrics for the first time and being shocked. He wasn’t, clearly, as he rolled his shoulders in a stupid and seductive way, and dragged you closer to meet his body’s movements.

‘Sometimes I think that you’ll never understand me.’

Right. You would likely never understand Joel Miller.

‘But something tells me together we’d be happy.’

Well…as long as your father didn’t kill him first.

Emboldened by the pre-chorus beat and the ever-increasing swell of people around him, Joel snaked an arm around your waist. He let your body fall in line with his, rolling in gentle sorts of motions until he could find what kind suited you two the best, and he led the way.

When his head dipped to yours, you could feel it coming.

‘I will be your father figure. Put your tiny hand in mine.’

This time Joel was singing along, grin wide on his face. As if to mirror the lyrics, he took your hand and squeezed it. You might’ve rolled your eyes or pulled away when the man leaned down and slid his touch to your wrist. He kissed your palm. Then he kissed it again, sponging his lips to the skin in time with the rhythm of the song. It was both innocent and lewd. Wholesome and sensual.

Something trapped between perverted and polite, like Joel was testing the waters while trying not to make it seem that way at all. You kept moving in time together.

Joel’s other hand held you to him. His fingers flexed.

“You can’t…”

When his grip slid to your ass, you shook your head.

As much as you would’ve liked to indulge the urge that was currently flooding your system, the timing was off. The choice to give in now was wrong, and risky to make.

Your roommate and her family were no more than fifteen feet away. No matter how many strangers stood between you and them, Joel was toeing a dangerous line with his hand lowered to where it was. With his face only inches away and a sly grin spreading on his lips, it was clear he knew better than this. But he was eager to talk.

“You feel that, sweetheart?” he asked softly.

Where that single term of endearment had once made you bristle, you now sensed it warming your insides.

You nodded but were quick to add: “Joel, we can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because…”

You found yourself trailing off again, just as you felt Joel’s erection grind into your front, somewhere close to the space between your legs. It rubbed right where you needed him. While another stream of airy, dreamlike notes floated out and a tenor’s voice crooned if you ever hunger, hunger for me, you peered up to find Joel deep in contemplation. He didn’t blink when you met his gaze.

Instead, he nudged you sideways. You inhaled a breath, and not long after that, you felt your back pressed to one of the lone barstools sitting at the outskirts of the room. You’d strayed far. And now, away from all the people that you’d come here with, you had two big hands sliding up the sides of your body. Cupping your face. Guiding your mouth to meet a warmer, more desperate set of lips than you’d ever been expecting to find. Joel’s kiss was rough.

It was open and aching—a wound not willing to be soothed by anything other than your tongue on his. Swiftly, he coaxed your jaw open and slid in. He licked in. He practically panted into your mouth, fingertips carving crescents in your cheeks from just how hard he was holding your face. He didn’t let up, and that hunger bled from his lips to yours. You felt a heady wave wash over your brain, and at the same time, your thighs tensed.

You pulled away.

Your lips were bitten numb. Your cunt was throbbing.

While your pulse thundered through your ears like a fucking kickdrum, your grip loosened on the front of Joel’s shirt, and you started to turn yourself from him.

What you needed to do was leave. What you couldn’t stand was getting caught again, and risk it being someone who wouldn’t take to it as kindly as Aly had.

But even as you walked, you felt a pulsing in your skull.

Between your legs, the feeling was worse, like there was something thrumming a frantic beat in that precious and defenseless place that you knew was needing him most. You were weak. You swiped a hand over your mouth like that would do anything, and you kept walking, knowing how closely Joel would be following you all the way out.

On such a clear, frigid night, the air outside should’ve been a relief. Instead, your pulse hammered and swelled. Your cheeks burned. You could’ve ground your teeth so hard that you cracked enamel, and it still wouldn’t have been enough to bite back the words inside your throat.

You turned to Joel wanting to tell him no. The expression that met yours said he was expecting as much—and was preparing to object—when you swiftly cut him off again.

It should end there. Nothing good ever came of you shedding your inhibitions or clothes with Joel Miller.

He reached out; you winced. You shouldn’t say it.

“Let’s go home, Joel.”

You were running again.

You’d nearly knocked him to the floor the second he’d turned the key in the door of his dingy little motel room, lips frantic over his and hands making fists in his shirt. It was exactly what he’d been hoping to see—part of why he’d booked this place and made the drive that weekend, to have you cradled in his arms again—but as he crossed the threshold with you all over him, Joel grew unsettled.

He couldn’t quite place the feeling, but something told him that you were only here to escape an unsavory urge. Like he was a bad habit to be flooded from your system.

You seemed to say it with every motion of your hands: skating down his front, clawing at the buttons, busying themselves with quickly trying to rid him of the fabric while your eyes stayed trained anywhere but on his face. It stung. Normally Joel wasn’t the type to ruminate on the reasons why a girl might be tearing his clothes off, but tonight, with you, this wasn’t what he usually did.

The ache unfurling in his chest wasn’t the kind to be imparted by just anyone, he kept reminding himself.

Which was why he took hold of both your wrists. Tightly. Just as you were about to try and peel his shirt from his shoulders and expose the whole naked expanse of his chest, he stopped you. He swallowed as you groaned.

“Joel.”

“You didn’t want me kissin’ you at all back there.”

In the bar, outside the building, in the car ride over here. You’d scarcely let him hold you for half a minute before begging to be taken home, and now that you were inside this room, alone, now you wanted to be touched by him.

Joel tried not to feel stupid saying it aloud, but hell, he felt pretty fucking pathetic peering down at you then.

You shook your head. Took a small step back from him.

“Yeah. Trying not to get us caught again, remember?”

And when you backed off, you stayed off, if only to start unfastening the little straps of your top and kick your shoes off your feet. You made your way over to the king-sized bed at the center of the room and sat down. Joel took off his own shoes but didn’t follow, opting instead to rest his weight on the old TV stand across from you.

He planted his hands on the hardwood surface on either side of him, watched you shuffle to the edge of the bed, and had to steel himself when the next pieces of clothing came sliding off your body. You were lifting your shirt over your head, then dragging your jeans down your legs.

Before you were stripped bare, Joel cleared his throat.

“I said we were gonna have a little chat later, too.”

He sounded like a dad. This really had to stop.

Instead of following his lead, you only kicked your pants off at your feet and leaned back. Joel approached the bed, and you greeted him with a coquettish look, like you already knew where this was going. But you couldn’t.

Joel made sure that you wouldn’t when he cupped your chin in his hand and made you tilt your face up to him.

“Honey,” he started, stern, while you reached for his belt.

You’d almost succeeded in threading your fingers through the leather and tugging it loose when Joel’s grip drew tighter. He jerked your chin up in a pinch, ignoring the roll of your eyes, and for yet another beat, he felt that obscure urge to discipline you again. Like you needed it.

If he could just control himself and play things right…

“Listen, I’m not trying to be your father.”

Wait. No. That came out wrong.

Your eyes widened some.

“Oh, really, daddy?”

Well, shit.

Joel straightened where he stood and tried not to puff out his chest like an old father-type might do, but the effort was useless—everything the man said and did was like the fucking calling card of a patriarch. He scrubbed a hand over his face and pretended not to see you grin up at him, your gaze bright and fiery as the Fourth of July.

He could hold important conversations and still not try to jump your bones immediately. He could control himself. He could slap on a semi-austere look and just tell you.

“I love you, you know that, right?” he blurted out.

Your eyes widened again, this time in alarm.

“Christ, Joel.”

You were sliding back on the bed. Shaking your head and pursing your lips in a grimace like this wasn’t happening.

“We’re not doing this again,” you added in a grave voice.

Joel was already making his way up after you—again, like a fucking moron, he felt—crawling on hands and knees across the moth-eaten, coral-colored bedspread and trying not to panic and failing miserably, per usual.

“‘S’alright if you don’t wanna say it back, I just—”

“I didn’t mean to say it in the first place, Joel!”

But there was a strain in your words. Denial.

You were working in earnest not to expose that sliver of self that wanted him, too. Joel could feel it. He planted his knees on the mattress and met you closer to the headboard, where your breaths were coming in faster. You shook your head, but you also didn’t stop him when he drew in even closer and lowered his body to yours.

He was hovering, almost.

Just as he’d been poised above your soft, beaming face all those weeks back in some little podunk town—at Balmaceda’s Mountain Lodge, where you’d been stuck together, only to fuck each other for the first time that night—he pressed a touch to your side. He rubbed his thumb just over your hipbone, where the panties you had on still clung to your skin, and he watched you tense up.

It was like before, only worse: now you knew his touch, and he knew yours, but there was a dread in your eyes.

As if you couldn’t stand to be under him, you slid back.

“Joel, please…don’t,” you murmured hoarsely.

“Don’t what?” His stomach dropped.

“Don’t ever say that again.”

That he loved you?

Joel never thought one string of words could hurt him so much, but there it was. While his heart unwound and his ego met with a swift and unceremonious death, he felt something like agitation twist inside him, too. Cruelly.

This was what he’d come this whole way to tell you.

The man could handle rejection; that wasn’t the problem. What bothered him now was how unflinchingly committed you seemed to misunderstand his intentions. Something surged in his chest again, and this time, it wasn’t all hurt—it was anger, too. Why you refused to accept that someone might love you was beyond him.

He didn’t reach for you again or crowd you further, but he raked a hand through his hair and heaved a hard sigh.

“Why won’t you believe me?” This time pleading.

“It’s not that I won’t—I just can’t, Joel. I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?”

You started to speak, but then that balloon of rage swelled bigger in his chest, and it wasn’t meant to be directed at you—it was only meant for himself, why wasn’t he enough—and he spit the words like venom.

“Haven’t I shown you that I mean it? That I— I— I care? I’m here. I came to see you. I’m telling you that I love you. How else am I supposed to show the woman I love that I care when you won’t let me in an inch, except when—”

“Except when you’re seven deep in me?” you scoffed.

It was bitter and derisive, and you slid farther back.

“For Christ’s sake,” Joel gritted through his teeth.

He didn’t even wait for you to interject, as he came back: “Is that all you think of me? Is that what I am to you?”

His voice was loud, and he hadn’t meant for it to be.

He was pushing off the bed, watching you sit back.

“I just think it’s real convenient,” you snapped again, “Betraying my trust by not telling me about dad’s affair, finding me in a weak moment, letting me believe you feel the same so you don’t have to deal with this…this…guilt.”

Joel couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You think I did all of this out of pity?”

“I think you’re trying to be a—”

“That I would lie about it?”

His heart rate was spiking. He felt his pulse thudding in his ears as he stalked around the footboard and scowled.

“Joel, I—”

“No.” He shook his head hard. He was sincerely trying not to fit the bill for ‘hot-headed, explosively angry father,’ but the efforts he made seemed all in vain. Joel could hardly talk now without raising his voice to a shout.

“I have—” he started, only to stop himself, swallowing.

His throat ached, and he almost choked on his words.

“I have been in love with you this whole fuckin’ time!”

His eyes burned. The sound came out angry, hoarse. Maybe he was; he just couldn’t contain it anymore. Silence filled the open space, and time distended.

He couldn’t stand the way you wouldn’t believe him, even now, as you straightened and shook your head.

“No, you haven’t.”

“I have.”

“You don’t mean—”

“You don’t get to tell me what I mean!”

He stared back and watched your gaze erupt in ire. Indignation. Lips drawing tight and teeth baring and hands gripping the bedspread beside you, as if enraged.

“I do. I can. You’re— you’re full of shit.”

Your words made him want to hurl something at a wall.

“Am I?!” he bellowed.

“Yes!” you spat.

“How can you say that?!”

And, without meaning to, Joel’s knee hit the side of the nightstand while he turned abruptly from you. The whole thing shook; the lamp nearly toppled, and the man immediately reached for it, then out to you. The gesture was a reflexive apology, but you responded by shoving his hands off. An angry sound racked through your body as you moved from him—“You—you don’t mean it, Joel.”

“I do. I mean it. Believe me, I do.”

That sound from his chest could’ve been half a sob.

He reached for you again, knees sinking with the springs of the mattress beneath him, and you shuffled further back. Your movements slowed. Suddenly, Joel’s stopped.

He couldn’t see it without a wince—your hands shaking. Your fingers tried making fists but failed, and in an effort to conceal the fear they held, you seized the comforter.

His throat ached, and that pain only soared in a second.

“You can’t…you can’t mean it if I’m just a secret to you.” Your tone was a rasp. The lips that spoke it were curled, revealing teeth still gritted. Eyes filling with more tears, “You can’t say you love me if…if you’re just gonna leave.”

By the end of it, your words were ground to a murmur. Your voice was hushed and slow and begging to be spared notice, as though every syllable hurt to say.

Your bottom lip was quivering too. He knew you were kicking yourself for it—could see the embarrassment etched into your gaze as you blinked back nothing, then one, then two, then a barrage of slow, hot tears—but no matter what you did to fight it off, your body trembled.

The whole thing was practically vibrating with hurt. Humiliation and anger had evidently joined the mix, and before he could even think to speak, you mumbled again:

“You’re gonna leave me, Joel.”

The hurt wouldn’t stop.

“You don’t love me.”

Your voice cracked to continue, pain clinched with a sob.

“You can’t.”

In the look that met his, he saw a wall of warring fears. It wasn’t all for him, either. There were wounds that were the work of years beneath the surface of your skin, ones entrenched in flesh since long before he’d ever known you or laid a finger on that part himself. It started young.

Your lashes battled to keep the tears at bay, but the floodgates had opened. Your secret was gone. There was no sense in feigning indifference when the truth was laid bare—that you didn’t deem yourself worthy of love, and likely never had. Regardless, you worked hard not to cry. You scrunched your nose, mashed your lips together, and stared anywhere but him, and the tears kept flowing. Gently, but without slowing, they streaked down in turn.

“No, sweet pea, I love you. I love you. I ain’t leavin’.”

It was all Joel could do to keep his own vision clear.

He already knew you wouldn’t believe him, but that didn’t stop him from saying the words all the same.

“I— I said it first,” he went on, words tumbling out.

You turned wet, sad eyes to him in utter silence, and that made him want to ramble on forever. As long as it took.

“At the fair, a month before you ever said it, I was trying to tell you I loved you then. You ran off before I could.”

That was the truth.

If Joel had any hope of regaining your trust, it would need to start there. And out of one truth came another.

“I already knew I loved you before that. I would’ve said it, except it just felt wrong, with all that…that stuff I knew.”

He meant knowing about his best friend, your father, and his little rekindled romance with his former mistress. It wasn’t right, keeping you in the dark about something like that, but he also hadn’t wanted to hurt you. There was more to the story that complicated things further, and frankly, Joel had been too swept up in the novelty of this thing you two had had to choose the smarter path.

That didn’t excuse what he did. Hell, it only hurt him worse seeing your eyes gloss over and stay fixed on his.

Knowing you’d trusted him not to hurt you—and he had.

If you didn’t accept what he told you now, he wouldn’t fault you for it. All he could do was slide off the bed and pull you to a perch on the edge, while he planted himself on the carpeted floor and kneeled in between your legs.

Cupping your tear-stained face in his hands, pleading:

“Baby.”

You blinked back at him but ventured nothing.

“Sweet pea, I am not keeping you a secret.”

A beat.

“I’m not leavin’. I want more—need more.”

And for some reason, that felt like a weightier admission than he’d even thought possible. He wasn’t good at this.

He wasn’t quite cut of a cloth to know just how to soothe you and make things right, but he did know that holding you felt right to him. So he did. He rubbed his thumbs in little circles over your warm, wet, puffy cheeks, and he pulled your face closer to his. He held your gaze and watched an internal war wage somewhere far behind your eyes as you tried to contend with this new feeling—that of being wanted and needed and loved as you were.

You sniffled between his two broad palms.

“I want you to stay,” you said softly.

Joel’s heart hammered at that.

He couldn’t hope to leave out the rest. He let go of your face then and felt an irresistible urge to go on, even if it was much too soon and he had meant to show you later. As stupid as the idea had been, he’d already made it, and there was no going back anyhow. He would tell you here.

He reached in his pocket for his wallet. He broke your gaze momentarily to take it out, flip it open, and then card his fingers through the bills a few aching moments before pulling it out—the thing he’d wanted to show you.

When he held it up, a set, he flitted a quick look to what he’d lifted between you and him, as if the sight might give him answers on what to say. Sadly, nothing came.

Joel was totally on his own in explaining what this was. Lucky for him, though, you didn’t seem keen to judge.

“They’re…they’re tickets,” he started. Stupid.

You raised a brow, trying to read, and he forged ahead. Just as the words first appeared to register in your mind, and the faintest look of shock took shape, he hurried out:

“Billy Joel’s got a show comin’ up in Austin this June. I…I thought— well, I hoped, I guess, that maybe we could…”

Spit it out, Miller.

Spit. It. Out.

He frowned.

“I’m no good at this. Sorry. I wanted us to go…together.”

And then…

“And I want your dad to know about us before then.”

There it is.

The last lynchpin in the man’s resolve was gone. He’d said it. There was no turning back from what he’d offered, or what it required, and now you knew he wanted things to be real and committed. Serious.

Terrifying.

Your eyes remained fixed on his. For a second, that look, and your whole upper half, appeared so still Joel thought you might’ve stopped breathing altogether. You blinked. Glancing down at the tickets in his hand and batting your lashes again, as if you weren’t quite sure how to answer.

Then, at last, he heard a sharp inhale—Or was it an exhale? He couldn’t tell—and before he could blink back or wonder so much as a thought, the breath was battered out of his own chest. You rushed him.

You’d moved so fast, hugged him so quick, Joel scarcely knew what was what until he felt your arms snake around his neck. You joined him on the filthy, soiled floor and dropped your knees on either side of his body in a kind of straddling hug. It was as swift as it was unexpected, and it took him a second to adjust. But no longer than that.

Joel was relieved to feel your warmth. Squeezing him. Choking him, almost. He didn’t think you’d ever held him that hard in his life, so he did all he could to soak it in.

It was only when he heard another sob that he paused.

“You…you want to?” Your voice was tiny against him.

“‘Course I do, darlin’,” Joel answered in a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He cupped the back of your head to him and held you tighter, “Of course I do.”

Then, because the impulse struck again: “I love you.”

He didn’t need you to say it back; a look was enough. When you drew back and met his gaze, eyes still doused with tears but smiling faintly at him, Joel was content to see your acceptance. Allowing love in in some small way.

And when your lips succeeded that look, meeting his in a soft kiss, and your body shifted up toward the bed, he didn’t protest. He kissed you back. Joel didn’t have to have love spelled out in words for him to feel what you meant. You said it gently, but somehow with even more force than when you’d stumbled into this room together, touch beckoning him in as you laid back on the mattress.

Admittedly, every inch of this place was seedy. On such short notice Joel hadn’t had much of a pick among his choice of accommodations, and the shortage showed. Still, when you slid up that old, worn bed and stretched yourself in wordless welcome, he couldn’t have asked for more. He only wished that he could give you more, but for right now, at least, that was out of the question. He leaned in and found your lips like second nature, slotting between your thighs and kissing you harder. The concert tickets had shortly been cast aside on the night stand.

“I love you.”

It slipped out again, and Joel didn’t care. His tongue chanced past the seam of your lips and, once inside, explored every contour, ridge, and crevice it could find.

While he did, a touch palmed your breasts over your bra. Your skin was warm; gaze soft, the last he’d seen of it. The scent of you rose to greet him like a mist of some wild intoxicant: citrus, mint, a tinge of sweat, and a liter of your favorite fruity drink, if he’d had to guess. You flooded his senses. It wasn’t enough for him simply to hold flesh in his hands and explore your body with his lips and tongue; Joel wanted to consume something more, though he hardly had the words to articulate it.

You unclasped your bra just as his mouth slid down to your neck. There was a beat—your sharp intake of breath when his teeth met skin and marked it with the tenderest bite—and then your arms reached out. You discarded your bra and bared yourself to him, and when Joel tilted his head to take in the view, he had to groan your name.

There was no other logical route for him to go.

You’d just begun to wind your fingers through his hair when he slid down to greet that newly-exposed place.

“I love you,” he repeated against your skin before drawing one nipple between his lips. He kissed it.

Your grip grew tighter.

“Joel, please.”

His teeth had only reappeared a second to tug the pebbled flesh between them, tongue hungry and wet and laving gently across that hardened peak, when your legs wound around him too. You pulled his body into you.

Joel was helpless to the inducement. His torso fell more heavily to yours and his lips suckled with a vigor that betrayed sheer desperation. He felt it strain in his pants. When he moved from one breast to the other, he heard a wet pop, and the whimper when he re-attached himself was enough to make the bulge he felt swell even bigger. His tongue caressed in laving, measured motions along the curve, and he tried not to grow overly eager from it.

Don’t get too excited. You need time. Lots and lots of—

“Joel,” you exhaled on a particularly harsh press of his mouth. Your ribs heaved with it. “Come— come here.”

He was clambering back up in an instant. The ministrations of his lips that had practically engulfed your skin and smeared it with his saliva were swapped in a blink with them returning to your chin, jaw, and cheeks, planting kisses in between the words he murmured next.

“Yeah? Every—” To the side of your mouth. “Everything OK, sweet pea?” Feeling guilty but also simply needing to calm himself down. “Too fast?” Another to your cheek.

It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t gone too far, too soon before. In fact, it was a pretty regular occurrence with the sex you had. Joel just needed a reset—had to make sure this was alright, and that he could cool down if needed.

He felt a pinch in his groin but ignored it.

Suddenly, your gaze was on his again.

Fingers carded through the sweat-damp, striated tufts of black and silver hair at the sides of his head, and you leaned in closer until your nose and his were touching.

“Here,” you pressed him, low. Need crept into those words, and your grasp constricted. “Stay here, please.”

It was clear you were inviting him back to your lips, to kiss them, so Joel did just that. He bracketed his arms on either side of your head and let his mouth explore as it had before. Where he resumed at equal force, you met him with still more warmth and wanting and open fervor, tongue curling around his in some soft and wordless plea

Below the belt, Joel was throbbing. He didn’t need to reflect long at all to know what that meant. Then your lips parted wider, your ankles dug deeper in the backs of his calves, and your hips started grinding against him.

Dry humping.

Whining at the friction.

“Feels…feels so good, Joel,” you told him breathlessly.

“You like that?” His lower half mimicked the motions.

Need blossomed across your face as the ridge of his cock rubbed in just the right way through his slacks. Something harder than he meant—a thrust, like he was fucking you into the bed—shook your frame, as well as the mattress underneath it. Springs creaked. Metal groaned. Warmth spread, from the pit of his stomach to where your body met his. The movements kept going.

You were slick beneath him. You must have been. Your whines had heightened to punctured gasps and your hips were so desperate, rubbing your barely-clothed core to the front of his pants and brows pinching as if—

You were already expecting this to end.

You didn’t think that he would stay.

“Baby,” Joel panted again.

By now, desire consumed him, but the urge to smooth that tiny crease of worry was coursing just as powerfully. He swallowed, gripped the linens beside your head in one hand a little harder, and opened his mouth to speak.

Another flick of your hips. Another sigh. Another whine.

Another pinch somewhere deep within him, and a groan.

Suddenly, your hands were on his shoulders, sliding up and toward his neck. Your fingers clawed for his hair.

“Joel,” you panted back.

Joel had tried to slow the motions of his lower half to talk, but yours had only sped up to grind yourself against him. He could feel the heat bleeding from you now. Wetness formed and expanded in a patch through your pink cotton panties and likely stained his front, or would.

His cock was swollen stiff and throbbing. Precum pearled at the tip of him, no doubt, and with every jerk of your body, he could feel it smearing and aching to slip in.

He wanted to be inside you. His balls twitched, his stomach ached, and his senses were suffused with you, a white-hot desire to paint your mouth, your skin, or your insides with his cum nearly as strong. But he had to stop.

Then you kissed him.

Joel’s lips were still parted when your mouth found his, kissing him sweetly and without reserve. Your fingers that had threaded through his hair pulled taut. Hard.

Your center slid up the length of his fully clothed cock, and with one more press of your legs, Joel felt you.

He’d never wanted anything more in his life, and still, he fought to speak—to reassure you that he wasn’t leaving.

“Joel—”

“I know, I know. Baby, I—fuck.” His breath hitched in his throat when his bulge pulsated again. His head swam.

With what meager resolve the man still possessed, he ventured another kiss, then drew back. His eyes dropped and searched your expression, half-crazed, and just when the words were taking shape again, you parted your lips and brought them to his. You rolled your hips, balled your fingers into fists through his hair, and with your mouth and his a quarter-inch apart in puckered, pretty ‘O’s, panting with every thrust that shook the bed:

“I love you, Joel.”

It was a breath, and the taste had never felt sweeter.

One more jerk of his hips and you were drawing in once again, panting in his mouth as if to make sure he heard.

“I— I love you. I love you so much,” you murmured, low.

His cum unloaded in thick, hot ropes. He couldn’t stop it.

Joel Miller, at the age, maturity, and level of experience he could boast, had never cum virtually untouched and in his own fucking pants since…he couldn’t remember when. But he was. His spend pulsed out from the head of his cock in dizzying bursts, and his stomach clenched. He gripped the bedspread and let out a guttural groan while he soaked the front of his boxers from inside them.

His dick throbbed and leaked, and his breathing slowed. He mumbled something back, quietly—‘I love you, too.’

Then he pushed up and off of you, out of the bed.

Seconds stretched; he didn’t feel it. Stars burst behind his eyes with every step, and he staggered that path to the bathroom like his life or his pride might depend on it.

As a matter of fact, the damage was already done. He’d jizzed in his pants like an overeager teen getting his dick touched or sucked for the very first time. What was worse, you hadn’t been doing either when he came; you’d told him you loved him, and that was enough.

Enough to make him look like a goddamn idiot, Joel thought without blinking. He kicked the door shut behind him and reached for the zip of his pants.

Sticky. Wet. A whole fucking shitshow below the belt.

He ran the tap. He had his undone slacks and boxers pulled down past his hips, and he was facing the sink in seconds, assessing the extent of the damage. Then his face flushed red at the sight of the sticky, milky mess swarming his groin and he could’ve kicked himself. He settled for yanking a towel out from one of the cubbies beneath the counter and running it under the water. He daubed quick and without much precision, gaze darting to find dozens more clumps of his spend strewn about than he thought possible. He’d cum an absurd amount.

Before he chastised himself, though, he had to pause.

“Joel?”

Your voice was soft. Sometime since he’d unzipped and started scrubbing his crotch in vicious circles, you’d appeared at the door, head peeking around curiously.

You must not have been standing there for long, because you actually drew closer to join him. Feeling comfortable enough in roughly thirty square feet of space, you shut the door again and leaned your hip against the counter.

If Joel didn’t know you better, and he wasn’t already occupied with wiping cum off of his cock and balls, he might’ve searched your face for a smile. A smirk, maybe.

It wasn’t like teasing each other was suddenly off-limits now that Joel was brimming with embarrassment. Half your communication was giving the other shit for little mishaps and quirks, and he expected that his last accident in the bedroom would be no different.

He flinched when you reached out instead.

Hooking your fingers under the waistband of his pants and his plaid boxers, you shuffled in closer to him and let out a breath. You tugged once, twice—gently, so as not to further disrupt the mess or make him wince—and then coaxed the fabric down his legs, lower and lower.

When you peered up at him, Joel couldn’t find so much as a trace of amusement in your eyes or on your lips. You just nudged his slacks to the tiled floor and hummed.

“It’ll be easier if we wash it off in there.”

You nodded to the shower behind him.

Joel turned slightly, as if considering or trying to get a glimpse of the freestanding shower with its wide-open, mildewed curtain seeming to beckon him in, then stopped. He turned back and chucked his towel.

“Alright,” he said while kicking his pants off at the ankles. Talking softly and not meeting your gaze, “That’s fine.”

He pivoted once more to peel his shirt off and make toward the shower by himself, and you surprised him, again, when you bypassed his much larger frame and hopped in first. You slid your panties off and tossed them into the pile of clothes by the sink, and you twisted the knob on the wall. You sidestepped the first stuttered sprays and drew the curtain back in wordless invitation.

Joel hovered, eyes scanning the cramped space.

“I don’t think we’re both gonna fit in here.”

Then, as though to emphasize his point:

“I can wash off by myself. It’s…fine.”

He hadn’t meant it to sound so stilted, but that was just how he felt: stiff and awkward and raw with feelings of recent embarrassment. He tilted his head to the side.

Your head tipped right back, and you raised a brow.

“Just get in, Miller. Freezin’ my fuckin’ ass off.”

And there was a smile: the first one. Faint.

Not mocking, snide, or condescending. Just the kind to usher him in and drag the curtain behind his hulking body, wipe a slick, wet hand over your mouth and grin—‘You do know I’ve seen you naked before, right?’—and that set his mind at ease. He almost smiled himself.

“So you remember that I’m a grower, not a shower.”

Joel cupped his hands over his softening length in faux protective fashion, as if you hadn’t seen the thing dozens of times by now. When he sidled up and cornered you between the soap tray and the shower stream, he found the edges of his lips kicking up a little, unable to help it.

You’d seen him hard, soft, and everything in between—mostly hard when near you. Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing that you were getting to experience him like this.

That made him lean in closer. Chance another joke.

“Looks like your old man’s stamina has taken a hit, too.”

Joel had meant it to sound playful. Suggestive, even. Instead, it came out dismal and gruff, like he was trying to overcompensate for something he was sorely lacking.

He might’ve wanted to kick himself again, were it not for the next move you pulled on him, which was enough to pluck his thoughts—and his breath—out of his body.

Without wasting a second to pretense or teasing, you simply brushed your hand down his front and touched him, gently. He was softer, smaller, and almost wholly spent from his last exertion; still, you reached and wrapped your fingers around his length with care.

Sparks ignited from the place where you trailed. Joel had to swallow a groan, oversensitive and fairly stunned, and his palm came to rest on the wall behind your head. His chin dipped toward his chest while his gaze dropped too.

He watched you stroke him once, rub your thumb along the tender skin, then bring your left hand to join the mix, carrying a bar of soap with it. You started from the base.

“Baby,” Joel rasped. The muscles of his stomach clenched while you drew circles to spread the soap.

“My old man,” you repeated affectionately.

It was artless and kind. Friendly and gentle. Most every other time he’d been touched where you had him, the hands had meant to arouse, and seek something else. Here, you were trying to help. Clean him sweetly and without concern for yourself while also drawing him in, like you always did. It made his chest hurt—and not in a way totally unconcerning for a man his age. Nonetheless, he leaned into that feeling and shifted his body to yours.

His head and your head were now doused with water, his hovering above so close that little droplets streaked from his chin down your slightly upturned face. Joel could feel you watching him. He flicked his own gaze back to meet yours, and as he did, your palm stroked him from root to tip. His hips jerked involuntarily; he swelled in your grip.

His cock stiffened but still remained far from fully erect. Joel swallowed, anchored his hand harder on the wall, and wished himself a decade or three younger, at least.

“You alright with this?” he muttered.

“With what?” you mumbled back.

Joel sucked in a breath just as your hand, and the soap, slid back down his length, and rubbed casually around it. You assumed a leisurely pace and scrubbed his tummy.

“My body ain’t what it was—”

“And it’s more than enough.”

Suddenly, your eyes weren’t just resting on his but pressing. Piercing. The circles working to clean his skin increased in pace and force, and you set the soap aside. You nudged him closer to the water, but all Joel felt was the urge to draw you with him. The shower stream pelted his chest, his belly, his freshly soaped lower half, and past the suds, a gradually hardening cock. Gradually.

You had him in your hand; you were rinsing him clean. Joel should’ve extended some murmured thanks, a calm and uncalculating touch coming to rest on one of your shoulders while you did him this innocent favor. Your lips twitched. His cock hardened. Then your back was flat on the shower wall, and Joel was hovering over your drenched and naked frame again, only his touch was descending to your hip instead. He held it firmly.

“You could have your pick of any guy—”

“Good thing I only want you.”

Your grip tightened too. Now that you’d scrubbed him clean, you seemed ready to let go in the next second, but old habits died hard. Joel leaned in to nose your cheek.

“That so?” His hand moved from your hip to what he knew would be a scorching heat between your thighs.

Two thick fingers glided through your folds and forced a whimper out of your throat. You were soaking wet, and not just from the shower’s spray. Joel rubbed that slick, delicate seam with all the self-control he could muster in the moment, and he kissed your cheek. Every inch he could feel of you was brimming with warmth and need.

You tilted your chin and caught his lips. You parted your legs and held his almost-fully erect length in your grasp.

“I— I mean it, Joel,” you answered him, surprisingly soft then. You kissed the sides of his mouth while you continued to stroke up and down. “I want you.”

Joel’s hips shifted involuntarily. As if moving of its own volition, his lower half stirred beneath your touch, and shortly, he had your legs spread wider and his body slotting in the gap between. His fingers pushed deeper.

And, just as his hand was all but cupping your mound and the wet heat of your cunt was pulsing against him, Joel slowed. He sucked in a breath and met your gaze.

“How do you want me, sweetheart?” he murmured.

In reply, you gripped his base and guided him closer. Flicked your thumb over the fat, leaking tip and sighed.

“Right…here.”

“Right here?”

Joel hadn’t meant to move you so quickly, but one blink and your hand was off him completely; your back was turned to him, and your ass was pressed flush with his groin. He had to hunch in the tight, wet, fog-infested enclosure with his chin jutting in over your shoulder and his palm splayed over your tummy. He spoke softly again:

“You want daddy in here, pretty girl?”

Your whine was all he needed to hear.

And perhaps it would’ve been wise to wait a beat or two. Work two fingers in and out of your aching cunt, drag his tongue through your folds, or else use his throbbing tip to ease you open for him. Before he could even think to make use of his hands, mouth, or head, though, you were reaching behind and taking him yourself. You pressed a palm to the wall and pushed up on the tips of your toes, and with impatience bleeding through your every movement, you slid back onto him. You did it quickly.

In the absence of adequate foreplay, entry wasn’t swift. Joel almost choked at the feeling of how tight you were around him—how rigid and warm and narrow you felt on that first slide. He planted a grounding hand next to your own out of sheer necessity. He held your hip in his other and swallowed a groan that seemed fit to nearly kill him.

“Sweetheart,” he panted against your neck, “Easy. Easy.”

You tried to nod your understanding but slid up just as fast. From a glimpse of your profile, Joel could make out some consternation fanning out. Your brows pinched.

The pretty, slick ‘o’ encircling his cock clenched again, and it was evident you were trying to force the motion back down against your body’s wishes. You whimpered a little and dropped your free hand between your legs.

Joel kissed your jaw. Your cheek. Your ear. Partly to remind you that he was fine to take things slow and partly to quiet his own hammering heart inside him.

It wasn’t working.

You were just so. fucking. tight.

“I— you gotta slow down, sweet pea,” he hissed through gritted teeth. Your walls pulsed again, and it nearly sent him spiraling. The second your ass met his hips and he was buried to the hilt, he stifled a groan into your neck.

“But I need you, daddy,” you whined, “Need you inside.”

Another grunt. Another moan. Another suffocating pulse.

“I’m gonna blow if we don’t slow down some, honey.”

It was mortifying, but it was the truth. Tonight, Joel just couldn’t seem to keep his cum confined to his balls like he normally could. Presently, they rested firm and heavy against the globes of your ass and were just then preparing to hit a rhythm as you rocked back and forth.

Your gaze flashed to his over your shoulder.

“That’s OK. You…you can— oh.”

Before you could finish that thought, your words were torn from your tongue and lost to a shuddering moan. His cock plunged deep within your soft and airtight channel, and your head lolled back a little more.

Out of habit, Joel pulled out and then plunged back in, feeling the wet clutch of you stretch around his cock.

“I can what, honey? What can daddy do?”

Lax as his voice made him sound, the man was coming apart at the seams; he had only to search your face for a fleeting, desperate moment, find you hungry as he was, and he thrusted even harder, absorbed the shockwaves of your pleasure while he fucked you up against the wall.

Gradually, the spatter of water on white glossy tile gave way to the sounds of your skin and his hitting again and again. Your face softened, and the once-taut walls eased to accommodate his girth. You squeezed Joel from base to tip, making the most obscene noises when he slid in and out, and from the look you gave him then, he could sense the need before it ever left your lips. He saw desire fill your pretty, glossy stare and felt compelled to sate it.

Again, it seemed you were begging him to stay.

Expression so pleading and sweet and soft.

“Daddy, I— I want you to cum inside me.”

Joel almost blew his load on the spot. His hips had to stutter in place—so taken aback by what you’d just said—but then you were bouncing back and forth again, neck craning to flash him the most winsome smile.

“Oh, honey…”

“Please.”

He’d finished in you before. It had been an accident. The night had ended with you and him hauling ass to the nearest CVS and hitting the Plan B like it owed you money. And now you were asking him to do it?

“I’m about to start my period. It’ll be fine.”

The half-starved look in your eyes said you’d been thinking about this for awhile. Maybe not with your rational brain, but certainly in earnest. Your smile said it.

Joel’s good sense was shot. He knew it was wrong. He was assured beyond a shadow of a doubt that if your dad ever learned he’d deliberately painted your insides white—or worse yet, knocked you up—his best friend would personally sever his dick and sauté it for lunch. Still, the urge to be joined with you in this brand new way was damn near debilitating. He couldn’t tell you no. So instead of doing what he should’ve done, he simply said:

“OK.”

For some reason, it felt wrong to finish in the shower. So he cut the water, toweled you both, and took you to bed. He slid under thin, sodden, wildly outdated motel sheets without letting his lips disconnect from yours once. He propped your legs around his hips and kissed you harder. He found a home within the furthest recesses of your body he could find, and his heart still throbbed for more. It was the best and worst agony, to be so delirious in the need for someone else, but each time you met him and accepted him in, his pleasure soared to new heights.

His cock dragged in and out of your heat in sloppy, shallow thrusts. He felt your wetness ease his passage and welcome him deeper, until the mouth of your cunt was stretched as taut against his base as it would go and your walls were pulsing with need. You squirmed underneath him. Your whines turned into whimpers, and the whimpers became ragged, hiccuping gasps as you clawed at his back and begged for more, more, more.

“‘M’so full. Feels so, so good, daddy,” you breathed.

“Yeah?” Joel said, and he glanced between your bodies to see you stretched and stuffed to the brim with cock. He groaned involuntarily. “I fit so nice, don’t I, baby?”

“You— you do, daddy. You do.”

“Can I fit a little more in?”

Your eyes widened.

As soon as realization dawned, you nodded your head and gripped him tighter. You hardly needed another stab of his hips, his thumb on your clit, or so much as a word spoken besides—at just the thought of being filled with his seed, your body seized in anticipation. It was you trembling, shuddering, clenching hard and reaching bliss before you even meant to get there, really. You were wholly overstimulated and clamoring for more, the pulses of your cunt milking his cock with all you had.

Joel scarcely had the presence of mind to get a syllable out, but he knew what he needed to say before his pleasure took hold. He smoothed a hand over your cheek, cupped it, and lowered his lips to yours, so only the cusp of his mouth and his stubble were grazing your open pout and the words he spoke were all yours to hear.

Sliding deeper. Meeting and holding your gaze with bare, uncontrived sincerity: “I’m yours, baby. I’m all yours.”

His balls tightened. He wanted to say more to set your mind at ease and assure you what you meant to him, but evidently, your bodies had other plans. In the next moment, he felt a familiar warmth spurt from his tip, and his hips jerked. His cock burrowed as deep within your wet, pliant walls as it could go, and he unloaded rope after rope of his cum. Joel let out a full-throated groan.

The wild hum of his pulse through his skull all but rendered him deaf to the sounds around him, but he knew he told you that he loved you; he knew you said it back. He felt you anchor your heels into the backs of his legs and accept him completely. You spent what felt like hours kissing, writhing, panting, and murmuring words of the warmest affection. In reality, this lasted seconds.

With you underneath him, in his arms, it didn’t matter.

“I love you, Joel,” you whispered again, smiling.

He grinned and kissed you, “I love you more.”

And he’d meant what he said: every inch of him was yours. Every moment you would let him have from that point forward, he’d spend showing you that he was there to stay. He didn’t care how long it would take to prove it.

For once, he didn’t care what your dad would have to say

#GETTING TO THE WORD COUNT AND REALIZING THAT THIS IS THE LENGTH OF A NOVELLA………………..I SCREAMED #LIKE DUDE SHUT UUUUUUUUPPPPP!!!! SHUT UP #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller tlou #the last of us fic #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel

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jamminvroomvroom · 8 months ago

Note

🎀 anon

congrats on 5k

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

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

anywhere she wants.

ln x fem fewtrell!reader

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

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

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

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

4.2k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surely, everything would be fine.

everything was not, in fact, fine.

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

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

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

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

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

“for fuck sake.” you mutter.

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

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

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

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

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

ah, yes. the infamous hoe phase.

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

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

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

he knows him better? what does he know?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“fill me up.”

his vision blurs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and when it hits, god, does it hit.

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

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

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

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

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

anywhere really did mean anywhere.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“mate, listen-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

lando grimaces, bracing himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“hey, max?”

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

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

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

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

serves the bastard right.

hehe

lemme know what u think!! <33

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @welld0nebaku @thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged

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astrolook · 15 days ago

Text

Mercury in the houses

(Where does your brain do the most damage? Let’s find out! 😆)

Mercury in the 1st House: "I Talk, Therefore I Am." 📝

Speaks like they’re in a debate competition—even when ordering coffee. ☕

When it comes to job/career, can succeed in anything requiring fast thinking, persuasion, or scamming people legally. (Lawyer, salesperson, journalist.)

Will text you a 3-paragraph explanation for why they took 5 minutes to reply. 📱

Probably debated with your siblings (if you have any) so much as a child they now have trust issues.

Flirts like it's a TED Talk—informative, persuasive, and slightly exhausting.

Looks like their pen was possessed by a demon mid-word. 👻

Your brain runs at 5G speed, but their mouth runs at 6G.

Mercury in the 2nd House: "Money Talks… and So Do I!"💰

Talks slow and calculated—like they’re charging per word.

For job/career, you are perfect for finance, business, or making passive-aggressive Etsy shops.

"Who owes me $15 from 2020? I remember."

Your Handwriting: Fancy-looking cursive that belongs on an expensive check. ✍️

If has family, you might have an Excel sheet of who spent what on Christmas gifts. 🎁

Watches finance YouTubers like they’re movies.

Mercury in the 3rd House: "I Have 1000 Thoughts Per Minute."

Can out-talk an auctioneer. Never. Shuts. Up. Talks so fast, even their Wi-Fi can’t keep up.

For job/career, you could do well as journalist, social media manager, or that one coworker who emails at 3 AM.

Chaotic bisexual, pansexual, or flirts for sport. 🏆

Handwriting: Could be unreadable. Like a doctor’s prescription.

Probably has 50 tabs opened at once.

ADHD? I've seen this placement with people who has mercury in 3rd house.

Mercury in the 4th House: "Let’s Overthink Our Childhood."📝

When they talk it sounds like a therapist even when giving food orders.

For job/career, anything home-based (Freelancer, therapist, professional nostalgic, home maker).

Writes long emotional texts and then deletes them.

They're the one that tells their sibling, "Mom always liked me better" or "You're adopted".

Handwriting: Cutesy and emotional—like a grandma’s love letter.

On their social media accounts, they posts sentimental throwbacks way too much.

Biggest Flaw: Lives in the past.

Mercury in the 5th House: "Flirting is My Second Language."📝

Flirty, dramatic, and annoyingly charming.

For job/career, anything creative—actor, writer, public speaker, meme creator.

Flirts with everyone, dates no one. Flirting in the comments section.

Was the funny but annoying child.

Can’t take anything seriously.

Mercury in the 6th House: "I think in bullet points."

If anyone asks them a question, it would sound like a Google search result.

For job/career, perfectionist boss (or their employee’s worst nightmare).

Too busy analyzing red flags to enjoy romance.

Handwriting: Neat, small, and borderline obsessive.

Leaves detailed Yelp reviews.

Mercury in the 7th House: "Let’s Discuss This… Again."📝

Speaks in "we" instead of "I" (even when they’re single).

For job/career, they are good at lawyer, diplomat, or customer service expert.

Always "the mediator" in sibling fights.

Plays marriage counselor to their parents.

Can’t be alone, but overthinks commitment.

Mercury in the 8th House: "Secrets? I Know Them All."📝

The way they talk: Low voice, deep words, big secrets.

For job/career, they're good at investigator, psychologist, hacker, or a blackmail expert.

In love, communicates in mystery and sexual tension.

Handwriting: Looks like a serial killer’s notes.

Leaves cryptic tweets.

Won’t admit their sexuality… but they are. Sometimes they could be straight, but a sibling could be gay.

Mercury in the 9th House: "I will talk your ear off about philosophy and conspiracy theories" 📝

Flirts by explaining history.

In love, turns deep convos into foreplay.

Probably thinks they’re smarter than their parents.

Posts long Reddit rants.

Handwriting: Could be messy, but big and confident.

For job/career, could excel at teacher, philosopher, or annoying podcast host.

Mercury in the 10th House: "I’m CEO of Overthinking My Career."📝

Talks like a LinkedIn post and takes life too seriously.

For job/career, could be a CEO, politician, or a corporate robot, lol.

Will literally schedule date nights.

Takes love as seriously as a business contract.

Will only befriend "useful people."

Mostly posts work-related updates.

Mercury in the 11th House: "I'm the human embodiment of a Reddit thread"📝

Speaks like they’re in a sci-fi movie.

Tech startup, social activist, or online troll.

In love, probably falls for their best friend.

Might like the idea of "open-minded" relationships.

The "black sheep" of the family.

Handwriting: Either it looks like it belongs on a protest sign or kinda bad.

Mercury in the 12th House: "Did I Say That Out Loud?"

Mumbles, forgets what they were saying.

Job/Career: Psychic, therapist, or mysterious writer. If writes, these people would write under a pen name.

Either super close to their siblings or never speaks to them.

Very much into horror, psychological thriller movies.

Handwriting: Looks like a haunted diary.

Terrible at explaining emotions but fantastic at writing it.

Mercury is where your brain lives, where your mouth runs, and where your Wi-Fi connection to reality glitches. 😆🌍✨

#mercury sign #astrology #vedic astrology #vedicwisdom #astrology readings #astro observations #astro notes #spirituality #spiritual journey #spiritual awakening

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quarterlifekitty · 4 months ago

Text

Someone in the notes of my post abt Johnny with a piss kink commented about Simon and it took all of like 5 seconds for me to think of what kind of piss kink he’d have lol

cw: piss, coercion kinda (more like under negotiated kink idk)

Simon is a grabber. It checks out as a man who has a strong grip and doesn’t always fancy talking things out. He’s always got a firm hand somewhere on you. Your couch cuddling is not casual. Like this dude has got a hold on you. He’s like a mad dog— he just sinks his teeth into soft things and doesn’t let go.

And he likes to surprise you. It’s easy for him, and so funny when you jump at his presence or yelp like you’re an animal that just got its tail stepped on. And you know what? Getting the drop on you gets him kinda hard. It makes him feel like he’s got such total control.

You know by now that walking by Simon while he’s sitting somewhere while you’re at home is dangerous. He’s like a viper. You’ll be on your way and he’ll snatch you so you come falling into his lap.

Then he’ll straddle you on his thigh with an arm around your waist that that makes it so you can’t squirm away despite all your pathetic efforts. His other hand inevitably slithers beneath your waistband to palm and paw at your cunt mercilessly. He just gets into this kind of mood where he wants to make you boneless and fucked stupid out of nowhere— doesn’t even need to use his cock to do it, that’s how expertly he knows your body. You often whine at him to let you up, that you have shit to do, and he’ll tell you all that can wait. Until you pull out an excuse he hasn’t heard before.

“Simon— c’mon, I really need to pee, please—“

… He laughs.

“S’funny, that’s all. That you really think I give a shit about that, luv. Nah, you’re stayin’ right ‘ere, where I can tend to you.”

The truth is that Simon had never really thought about you pissing in that way before that moment. But he’s the kinda guy who knows what he wants, and he wants whatever the fuck you’ll give him. Spit, cum, tears, blood, piss— he’ll take any of it. It’s his libation. Your body is the center of his own personal cult. Who are you to deny a man his own religion?

He’ll fuss over you, petting too quick and hard at your clit, squeezing around your waist too tight, until you’re practically in tears because you just can’t hold it— and you let go. He almost cums untouched from how your warmth and wetness spreads over his thigh. You’re panting, and he’s comforting you, telling you how fucking good that was while you’re sobbing at the overstimulation and the shame, telling him you’re sorry even though he made you do it.

“S’okay, pretty bird— since when ‘ave I ever made you do something that didn’t turn me the fuck on, huh? God you fucking soaked me—“

#writing #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #cw coercion #cw piss

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grandprixprincess · 5 months ago

Text

hermana part 3 || ln4

lando norris x fem!reader smau + written

part 1 // part 2

warnings: some language

a/n: thanks for all the love for this series :) it's so fun to write! as always, requests are open for smau and text fics <3 also, cherry part 2 will be up next week! read part 1 here :) oh and happy race week!!! i'll be at cota this weekend, so excited!

f1gossip posted

liked by user1, user2, and others

f1gossip 🚨 Lando Norris seen leaving his Monaco apartment this evening!

view all comments

user1 on his way to pick up y/n perhaps? 🤞

user2 the jolly is such a VIBEEEE

user3 oh our man is dressed nice tonight!!! it's giving date night!!!

user4 i think you're right omg??? user5 y/n just posted a story all dressed up 👀

user4 lando is in his lover boy era 😭💗

yourusername posted a story

caption: 🧡🧡🧡

story replies:

yourbestfriend 😍

carlossainz55 are the orange hearts really necessary? 🙄

yourusername yes 🙄

You took one last look at yourself in the mirror before checking the time again. 5:48 pm. Lando would be here soon to pick you up.

Just as you prepared to make your way downstairs, you heard the front door to Carlos' apartment open. You furrowed your brow, wondering why he or Rebecca would be back at this time. They had left earlier in the day and said they would be out until after dinner.

"Y/N?" Carlos' voice rang out.

You grabbed a pair of dainty gold earrings as you walked out of guest bedroom, inserting them in your ear as you walked to where you heard Carlos' voice come from. "Yeah?"

Carlos was alone, carrying a few bags in, his back turned to you. "Good, you're still here. Listen, I just wanted to talk to you real quick before you-" He suddenly turned around mid sentence, "What are you wearing?"

You rolled your eyes. "Don't start, Carlitos. I'm about to leave."

Carlos scoffed. "Uh, no you're not."

You narrowed your eyes at him, "Carlos, stop." Now was not the time for Carlos to go into big brother protection mode. "There's nothing wrong or scandalous about what I'm wearing."

Your phone buzzed. You looked down, seeing Lando's name across your screen, and couldn't help the smile that made its way to your face.

I'm 5 minutes away. See you soon, beautiful.

You were so caught up in reading Lando's text, a blush painting your cheeks a soft pink, that you didn't notice Carlos smirking slightly at you. He liked seeing you happy and smitten like this; it warmed his heart. "You're blushing."

Carlos' words broke you from your daze. "Huh?"

Carlos chuckled lightly. "I said you're blushing." He took a step towards you, reaching his arm out to give you a quick hug. "You look beautiful, hermana. Have fun, yeah?"

You smiled brightly, happy to see Carlos following through with being supportive of you and Lando. "Thanks, we will. I'm going to head down. I'll see you later."

Carlos suddenly gripped your arm, holding you steady. "You are...coming back home tonight, right?"

You blushed, hating every second of this conversation, and gave him a sheepish grin. "Yes, mano. I promise."

"Good. No funny business tonight." You rolled your eyes at his words. "Hey, I mean it, manita. If he's serious, he'll wait."

You obviously didn't tell Carlos the intimate details of you and Lando on the yacht from the previous day. You felt a blush creep on your face again just thinking about it. Giving Carlos' arm a reassuring squeeze, you said, "Not that it's any of your business, but we want to wait. I want Lando to properly wine and dine me first."

"Please don't ever say the words 'Lando' and 'wine and dine me' together in a sentence ever again."

You laughed. "Okay, I need to go. He's almost here." You reached up, giving Carlos another reassuring hug. "Love you!"

"Love you. Keep your phone on. If I text you, you better answer."

You playfully rolled your eyes. "Fine." You grabbed your purse, making your way to the door. "Bye!"

f1gossip posted

liked by user1, user2, user3, georgerussell63, and others

f1gossip 🚨 Lando and Y/N spotted out in Monaco tonight! The pair were reportedly seen cruising around town before heading to a restaurant.

view all comments

user1 lando took her for a drive to watch the sunset 😭😍

user3 literally crying 😭😭😭

user2 i love my emotional support rich couple

user4 george in the likes 💀 he wants to know the tea just like us

user5 carlos at home seeing this like 🤨

user1 nah I know deep down he's a lany/n shipper

user6 they looks so cute together 😭🧡

"Red or white?"

You and Lando were looking over the wine list. The restaurant Lando brought you to was cozy and romantic; you both wore goofy grins as you sat across from each other.

Suddenly you heard your phone buzzing from inside your bag. You and Lando immediately made eye contact, a smirk growing on his face. You had told him in the car what Carlos had said about answering him if he texted you.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, his gaze causing you to throw him a sheepish smile. "Stop looking at me like that!"

He had a full on grin now. "What, am I not allowed to look at my beautiful date?"

He had you blushing now. "Yes, you can look, but don't make fun of me because I have a psycho brother."

Lando gave you another teasing smirk, looking down at the wine list again before saying, "You better answer him. I don't want to have to worry about him bursting in here and tackling me or something."

You giggled, reaching into your bag and grabbing your phone. You were confused and surprised when you saw who had texted you.

Lando grabbed your hand as you made your way upstairs to meet up with Charles and Alexandra. His hand in yours felt so natural, like two puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly. You smiled down at your joined hands before pulling out your phone to take a quick photo.

After taking the picture, you look up to see Lando staring at you, almost awestruck. You quirked your brow and smiled slightly, asking, "What?"

Lando just shook his head, rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand affectionately. "Nothing, just wondering how I got so lucky to have such a beautiful date tonight."

You blushed for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. "I feel pretty lucky too. I'm here with my dream man." You squeeze his hand.

The two of you have made it to the rooftop now, and do a once over of the space, looking for your friends. Lando leads you two towards the bar in the meantime.

"Dream man, huh?" Lando let go of your hand suddenly, his hand finding its way to your hip, pulling you in close, whispering in your ear, "You're literally the object of all my fantasies and desires." Lando keeps his hand on your hip, using his thumb to rub slow, small circles into your side.

You feel hot suddenly, and you know it's probably another blush on your face. Words lose you; you just focus on Lando's hand on you as stare up at him, eyes dilated.

"It's so fucking cute when you blush like that," Lando whispers in your ear again, "You're my dream girl."

Just as you were about to respond, you hear a voice behind you say, "Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

You turn around, Lando's hand still on your hip, to see Charles and Alexandra, both with coy smiles on their faces. You and Lando wear sheepish smiles as you wave to your friends.

Charles spoke up again. "Okay, first round is on me. Then you two can explain what's going on."

Lando laughed, letting go of your hip to join Charles to bring the drinks back. "Vodka cran?" he asked you, hand lingering with yours as he walked away.

He still remembers your drink of choice. You smiled, nodding. "Yes, please."

Once the boys were gone, Alex looked at you, still with that coy smile on her face. "Alright, spill. When did this happen?"

"After Singapore." You had another goofy smile on your face, you were sure of it. "We hadn't seen each other in a while, but after the race he texted me asking to see me again. Then he offered to pick me up from the airport, and yesterday we spent the day together..."

"Oh trust me, I saw the photos." Alex said teasingly.

You blushed again. "He told me yesterday that he tried to ask me out years ago, but Carlos stopped him."

Alex rolled her eyes. "I know he means well, but that doesn't surprise me at all."

You nod. "The past is the past. I've already spoken to Carlos about it and we've cleared the air."

"That's good." Alex reached over, grabbing your hand and giving it a squeeze. "You two looked so smitten with each other during dinner. I'm happy for you."

You saw Lando and Charles walking back towards you two, drinks in hand. You locked eyes with Lando, who was mid-conversation with Charles, and he flashed you a handsome grin.

Dream man.

yourusername posted a close friends story

story replies:

yourbestfriend screaming crying throwing up

iamrebeccad carlos saw this and threw his phone across the floor

f1gossip posted

liked by user1, user2, user3, and others

f1gossip 🚨 Lando Norris and Y/N Y/L/N spotted out at a bar in Monaco tonight!

view all comments

user1 the way lando is looking at her 😭 when will it be my turn

user2 lany/n army we are getting FED

user3 and they were seen hanging with charles and alex!! 🥰

user4 why them and not carlos and rebecca?? user3 probably because carlos would kill lando on sight if he saw lando touching y/n like that irl user3 also I think charles and alex just happened to be there too coincidentally

user5 idk who i'm more jealous of: lando or y/n 😭

It was nearly midnight when Lando pulled up outside Carlos' apartment building. You didn't want the night to end. Lando's hand was latched with yours in your lap.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, just trying to savor the moment. "If you asked me to sit out here with you all night, I would," you admitted.

Lando chuckled. "As tempting as that is, these seats aren't exactly the most comfortable." He began rubbing soft circles on your hand with his thumb. "I had a great time tonight."

Your heart fluttered at his words. "So did I." You laid your free hand on his forearm, just wanting to savor as much of his touch as possible. "Will I get to see you again before I leave?"

Lando had a teasing glint in his eye as he said, "That eager to see me again, huh?" Little shit. He shifted in his seat, turning towards you, inching closer.

You playfully rolled your eyes. "Hey, that's my line." You inched closer to him, waiting for what was to come. "Answer the question."

Your faces were centimeters apart. "I've been spoiled the past few days. I want to see you every day."

"Come see me tomorrow."

Lando sighed. "Are you sure? I don't want to take you away from spending time with Carlos."

You smiled at his thoughtfulness. "He's going golfing tomorrow," you said, "So I'll be alone until he gets back." You hesitated for a moment, before adding, "I'm making dinner tomorrow. You should come."

Lando quirked his brow. "Come to dinner...with you and Carlos?"

You narrowed your eyes, flashing him a grin. "It's not like the three of us haven't had dinner together before."

"Yeah, but it's different now."

"You do know you'll have to face him eventually, right?"

If it was possible, Lando leaned even closer. "Yeah, I know." He reached his free hand up, caressing your face. "I'll be there."

Lando smiled at the way your face lit up with joy. "You will?" When he nodded, you finally leaned in and closed the gap between you two, connecting his lips with yours.

It felt blissful. You were sure you could kiss Lando for the rest of your life and never get enough. As his lips moved against yours, you released your hand from his, snaking both hands around his neck.

You smirked against his lips when your hands found themselves in his curls again.

"Careful, baby," Lando cooed against your lips. "I'm already fighting the urge to ask you to come home with me."

You giggled, pulling his face back towards yours, desperate for his lips on yours again.

Suddenly, you felt your phone buzz in your purse. The two of you broke apart, smirks on your faces. You both knew who it was.

Stop sucking faces and come inside already. It's late.

"He's watching us," you said, showing the text you received from Carlos. "I better go." You sighed, a wave of sadness taking over you at the realization that the night really was ending.

"Can I walk you up?"

Your eyes widened. "Uh, yeah, of course." Lando quicky got out of the car, walking over to your side and holding out his hand. "Are you sure?"

He flashed a genuine smile. "I'm going to have to face him eventually, right?" You look at his offered hand again before reaching out and grabbing it, lacing your fingers together. As you made your way inside and towards the elevator, he added, "Besides, it's not a real first date unless you do the classic goodnight kiss at the front door."

"You're a real charmer, huh?"

As you finally made your way to Carlos' front door, you stopped to dig for the key in your purse. You struggled to find it for a bit; suddenly, the door opened, revealing Carlos.

"Hey, mate." Lando said nervously, letting out an awkward laugh.

Carlos stared blankly at Lando for a moment, before saying, "Hey, cabrón." He stepped out into the hallway to join you both, eyes still on Lando. "Nice of you to walk her up."

"Of course, yeah, of course," Lando rambled, Carlos continuing to stare him down.

You decided to stop this before it escalated further. "You're making him nervous, Carlos. Stop it."

Carlos broke out into a grin, playfully slapping Lando's shoulder. "I was just messing with you, mate." He finally looked over at you before saying to Lando, "You should join us for dinner tomorrow."

You couldn't hide the surprise on your face if you tried. Looking over at Lando, he wore a similar expression on his face before saying, "Yeah, I would like that."

"You should join me for golf tomorrow too if you're not busy."

Now you were sure your eyes were going to pop out of their socket from shock. What was Carlos up to?

When both you and Lando were silent at the second invitation, Carlos added, "Listen, I don't want things to be weird between us because you guys are," he gestured his hand in the space between you two, "dating, or whatever."

You and Lando both laughed, feeling more at ease. You turned to Lando, nudging him with your elbow. "You should go. I'll sleep in and enjoy a day to myself."

With both you and Carlos' eyes on him, he nodded quickly. "Yeah, a round of golf sounds nice. I'm in."

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow, mate." Carlos said, offering his hand out to Lando and giving him a bro hug. As he went inside and closed the door, he added, "Doors unlocked, manita."

As Carlos disappeared, Lando turned to you. "Are you sure?" Lando asked, searching your eyes for any doubt. When you nodded and flashed him an earnest smile, he nodded back. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" Lando said, reaching for your hand, caressing it softly. You nodded, leaning up to press one last kiss to his lips for the night; a goodnight kiss to end the most perfect night.

landonorris posted a story

caption: hanging with bae ❤️ @/carlossainz55

story replies:

yourusername LMAO

landonorris sorry you had to find out this way yourusername with my brother too 😔 landonorris carlando can't be broken

user1 y/n brought carlando back together and for that i'll forever be grateful

lando.jpg posted

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, maxfewtrell, daniel3.jpg, and others

lando.jpg nice lil break

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user1 CARLANDOOOO

lnfour 📣 new jpg photo dump alert

user2 y/n on lando.jpg y/n on lando.jpg y/n on lando.jpg

user3 the soft launch is soft launching 😙🤌

user4 putting the carlando pic before y/n??? lando said that's still my man

yourusername mama a girl behind you

user1 LMAO 💀 user5 one thing about y/n? she's always going to roast carlos

carlossainz55 posted

liked by yourusername, iamrebeccad, yoursister, charles_leclerc, landonorris, and others

carlossainz55 Had a great few weeks off. Ready for Austin 🤠🇺🇸

tagged: iamrebeccad, yourusername

view all comments

user1 LFG TRIPLE HEADER TIME

user2 rebecca and y/n are the cutest

yourusername love you but love @/iamrebeccad more 💗

iamrebeccad 💗👯‍♀️ carlossainz55 wow 😐 carlossainz55 whatever we all know who you really love more 🧡 user1 OMG??? user4 the orange heart 😭 oh he is a lany/n shipper for sure

user3 manifesting a y/n appearance in the paddock in austin 🙏

scuderiaferrari Ready to be back on track 💪

user5 chili podium in austin 🕯🙏

yourusername posted

liked by landonorris, yourbestfriend, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, and others

yourusername Monaco memories ✨

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user1 not lando liking this under 1 minute of posting

user2 oh he's so down bad, he has those notifs on

landonorris First ♥︎ by author

user5 OH user2 oh ABSOLUTELY down bad user6 og lany/n shippers used to pray for times like these 😭

user3 pls come to austin queen 🙏😔

alexandrasaintmleux 💗☀️

yourusername btw carlos made me post that photo to make up for the last post 🙄

carlossainz55 👍 yourusername 🖕 user1 someone tell ferrari the girls are fighting again 🙄

user4 her not tagging anyone in this post so her and lando can keep soft launching 😂

user5 they're having fun with it and i love it

user6 lando once again behind the camera like 😍🤳

yourbestfriend the first pic 😍😍😍

landonorris i know right 😍 user4 OH user2 down bad on main 😨

It had been a week since you arrived in Monaco. Things with you and Lando were going better than ever, but a fear was beginning to creep in as it was nearing the time for you to head back home. Lando was about to head out on a triple header, and the championship battle between him and Max was at its peak. You contemplated asking Carlos to take you with him to Austin, but would Lando want you there?

"Lan?" You sat on the bed in the hotel room, waiting for Lando to finish getting ready to head out for media day at the circuit. Something had been weighing on your mind as you got ready.

"Yeah?" He grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. "You ready?"

You nodded. "Yeah, just one thing..." you started, "I know we've been spotted and posted who knows how many times already, but this will be the first time we go out together, you know publicly, in front of the media." You fiddled with your hands as you contemplated your next sentence. "I just want to make sure you're ready for that."

"Are you ready for that?"

Without a second thought, you said, "Yeah, I don't want to hide. Soft launching is fun, but I think we lost the element of surprise already."

Lando chuckled before offering his hand for you to take. "I've been ready this whole time. Let's go do our hard launch then, baby."

f1gossip posted

liked by user1, user2, user3, and others

f1gossip 🚨 Lando and Y/N spotted entering the paddock together for media day at COTA!

view all comments

user1 the people's prince and princess

user2 hard launching at a gp is iconic

user4 taking selfies together with fans 😭 i love them sm

user3 will y/n be in the ferrari or mclaren garage this weekend???

user2 i thought for sure ferrari but now i'm thinking mclaren 😬 user4 no she will 1000% be in ferrari there's no way

yourusername posted stories

story 1 caption: save a horse ride a cowboy amirite 😍🤠

story 2 caption: don't worry i'm still a ferrari girl first <3 (ferrari pls give carlos a good strategy this weekend or i swear)

story replies to story 1:

user1 we went from subtle soft launch to horny on main so quick I have whiplash

carlossainz55 delete this

landonorris was busy doing an interview but is this why people keep yelling cowboy at me

yourusername oops sorry baby yourusername come eat i got your chicken wrap landonorris otw 🏃🏻‍♂️

story replies to story 2:

carlossainz55 for once I agree with one of your posts

user2 i can't wait to see you flame williams next year

oscarpiastri posting this while sitting across from me in the mclaren hospitality is wild

yourusername 😂

a/n: part 4 will be out soon :) it will most likely be the last part!

taglist: @npcmia @tinyhrry @that-one-little-soybean @a-beaverhausen @mxdi0 @scorpiodiosa @dripostsstuff @maddja @thegirlamongthestars @flrboyd @saythename-sm @landossainz @arrowenchantress @plotpal @jule239 @avni-sarai @hangingwiththestars @nxk1309 @amberpanda99

856 notes · View notes

bettys-redwinesupernova · 2 months ago

Text

ANIMALS

inspired by the song ‘Animals’ by Maroon 5.

rafe cameron x kook!fem!reader

SUMMARY: in a world where obsession blurs the lines between love and hate, Y/N and rafe cameron are locked in a toxic game of desire and dominance. as the tension between them reaches a boiling point, rafe’s possessiveness and Y/N’s defiance threaten to expose the truth—some animals can’t resist the hunt.

based on this ask !! i hope this is everything you asked for anon, and i’m so so sorry it’s taken so long, i took a cheeky writing break !!🫣 you didn’t specify if you wanted smut or not, but you can stop just before the smut when they get to the bedroom if you wish <3

WARNINGS: lighthearted angst, enemies w/ benefits, smut (18+ mdni!), alcohol consumption, slut-shaming (?), bitchy!reader, unprotected p in v (wrap it before ya tap it!), doggy style (bent over vanity), rough sex, manhandling (😝), hair pulling, jealous!rafe, reader throws a drink on rafe. (i think that’s it? lmk if i missed anything !!)

A/N: you can imagine any era rafe during this, but i do mention him having hair as reader pulls it, but i do see buzz cut!rafe in this too😫

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

THIRD PERSON +

The summer air was thick with humidity, the nights heavy with tension on the Outer Banks. Parties spilled onto beachfronts and estates, bonfires lighting up the endless skies. Y/N had the world at her feet—a true Kook princess with her sharp tongue, dazzling smile, and a touch of venom.

She played her cards perfectly, commanding the room wherever she went.

Rafe Cameron, however, was her shadow—a predator who stalked the edges of her light. He was trouble wrapped in an expensive polo, a cocktail of entitlement, rage, and obsession. The two of them didn’t get along in public. They’d perfected the art of bickering, their sharp remarks drawing laughter from Kooks and Pogues alike.

But beneath the surface, there was something darker, something intoxicating they could never resist.

—

The party was in full swing at Tannyhill, the gilded walls reflecting the warm glow of the chandelier overhead. Kooks milled about, drinks in hand, laughter echoing off the high ceilings. Y/N leaned casually against the marble counter in the kitchen, a glass of champagne dangling from her manicured fingers. She looked every bit the spoiled, self-assured girl everyone knew her to be—her designer dress clinging to her figure like a second skin, her lips painted in a deep shade that matched the smug smirk on her face.

Across the room, Rafe Cameron leaned against the doorway, his sharp jawline tightening as he watched her. He hated how she always seemed so effortlessly in control, like she knew exactly how to drive him crazy. He hated it even more when she turned her head and caught his eye, her smirk widening into something far more dangerous.

"Staring much, Cameron?" Y/N called out, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Rafe pushed off the doorframe, weaving through the crowd with the precision of a predator closing in on his prey. He came to a stop inches away from her, his blue eyes locking onto hers. "Can you blame me? You make it impossible not to look."

Y/N arched an eyebrow, unfazed by his proximity. "Careful, Rafe. Your obsession is showing."

His lips curved into a smirk, but there was nothing playful about it. "Obsession? Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart. I'm just curious how someone so perfect at pretending to be untouchable keeps ending up in my bed."

Her smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, but she recovered quickly. "Must be all that champagne. Makes it hard to remember mistakes."

Rafe leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear. "Mistake? We both know I'm the only thing you can't resist. You're just too proud to admit it."

Y/N's stomach twisted, but she refused to let him see how much his words affected her. She tilted her head, her voice as cold as ice. "Funny, I don't recall needing to admit anything to you."

Before Rafe could respond, JJ appeared at her side, slinging an arm over her shoulder. "Hey, pretty girl. Thought you'd ditched us for your old Kook crowd."

Rafe's jaw tightened, his glare shifting to JJ. "Don't you have a surfboard to wax or something, Pogue?"

JJ ignored him, flashing Y/N a grin. "Let's get out of here. This party's dead."

Y/N hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting to Rafe, whose expression darkened. She knew exactly what she was doing when she looped her arm through JJ's and started toward the door.

"Don't go too far, Y/N," Rafe called after her, his voice low and threatening. "You can run, but you'll always end up right back here."

—

The night air was cool as Y/N sat on the dock, the soft lapping of the water providing a brief reprieve from the chaos of the party. She'd barely been there for five minutes when she heard footsteps behind her.

"Couldn't stay away, could you?" she said without turning around.

Rafe dropped down beside her, his knees brushing hers. "You're really testing my patience tonight."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "What, did JJ's existence bruise your fragile ego?"

"You think this is a joke?" Rafe growled, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him. "I see the way you act around Maybann. Like you're trying to piss me off on purpose."

She yanked her face away, her voice sharp. "Maybe I am. Ever think about that?"

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, she thought he might snap. Instead, he leaned back, his smirk returning. "Go ahead, keep playing your little games. But we both know how this ends."

"Enlighten me," she said dryly.

Rafe's voice dropped to a whisper, his hand brushing against her cheek. "You can't run from me, Y/N. You belong to me, whether you like it or not. And no Pogue or party can change that."

The tension crackled between them like a live wire. She hated how much his words got to her, how his touch sent shivers down her spine. But she'd be damned if she let him win.

"Is that so?" she said sweetly, picking up her glass and tossing the bubbly contents into his face.

The champagne dripped from his hair, and for a moment, the shock on his face was enough to make her burst out laughing. But then his lips curled into a dangerous smile, and she knew she'd made a mistake.

"You're gonna regret that," Rafe said, his voice low and dangerous.

Y/N stood, her confidence unshaken. "Try me, Cameron."

As she walked away, swaying her hips a little more than usual, she could feel his eyes burning into her back. She knew she was playing with fire, but part of her loved the thrill of it. She and Rafe were two sides of the same coin, locked in a game neither of them could quit.

Because deep down, she knew he was right. No matter how far she ran, he'd always find her. And part of her didn't want him to stop.

—

The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the beach outside The Wreck, where Y/N sat at a picnic table surrounded by her friends. Sarah was leaning back on the bench, sunglasses perched on her nose, while Kie propped her chin on her hand, animatedly recounting a story. Cleo chuckled beside her, and Y/N's two Kook friends, Taylor and Malia, leaned in with interest, their perfectly styled hair catching the light.

The scene was serene, a picture-perfect group of girls enjoying themselves on the edge of paradise. But Y/N couldn't focus. Across the sandy expanse, near a beat-up truck surrounded by Kooks, Rafe Cameron stood with Topper, Kelce, and a couple of others, the unmistakable swagger in his stance making him impossible to ignore.

Y/N sipped her iced tea, letting her gaze flicker toward him briefly. He was watching her—had been since the moment she arrived. His intense blue eyes tracked her every move, smoldering with a mix of anger, desire, and something darker. She could feel his stare like a physical touch, and though it sent a shiver down her spine, she wasn't about to let him win.

"Y/N, hello?" Kie waved a hand in front of her face. "Earth to Kook Barbie. You're zoning out."

Y/N snapped her attention back to the group, giving Kie a lazy smile. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"Forget it," Kie said, rolling her eyes. "You've got that look again."

"What look?" Y/N asked innocently, toying with the straw in her glass.

Sarah smirked. "The one you get when my brother is around. Don't think we didn't notice."

"Oh, please," Y/N said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Like I care about whatever Rafe is doing."

Cleo raised an eyebrow, a sly grin spreading across her face. "You might not care, but he sure does. Dude's been staring at you like he wants to devour you."

Y/N scoffed but didn't deny it. Before she could come up with a cutting remark, their waiter approached—a new guy, tall and tanned with a charming smile, and black curls sitting atop his head. He carried a tray of drinks with ease, his eyes lighting up when they landed on Y/N.

"Afternoon, ladies," he said, setting the tray down. "Your drinks, courtesy of...well, me."

Kie raised a brow. "My parents own this place. You don't have to do that."

The waiter grinned, but his attention stayed on Y/N. "Consider it a perk of working here."

The girls giggled, and Y/N leaned back in her seat, tilting her head. "Wow, how generous," she said, her tone teasing.

"It's not every day I get to serve someone like you," the waiter replied smoothly.

Y/N feigned shock, her hand fluttering to her chest. "Someone like me? You mean, devastatingly gorgeous and completely out of your league?"

The girls burst into laughter, and even the waiter chuckled, though his cheeks flushed a little. "I wouldn't say out of my league," he shot back with a wink.

Y/N could practically feel Rafe's glare burning into her from across the beach, and that knowledge made her smirk grow. She leaned forward slightly, giving the waiter her full attention. "Careful," she said, her voice low and sweet. "Flattery might just get you somewhere."

The poor guy was about to respond when the door to The Wreck slammed open, and in walked Rafe, flanked by Topper, Kelce, and the other Kooks. Their arrival was loud, drawing the attention of nearly everyone in the restaurant.

"Oh, for the love of God," Sarah muttered, pulling her sunglasses down. "What are they doing here?"

"They're like cockroaches," Taylor grumbled. "You can't get rid of them."

The boys took a table near the girls, Rafe purposefully sitting with a clear view of Y/N. She didn't miss the way his gaze flicked to the waiter, who had quickly retreated to the kitchen, and then back to her. His jaw was tight, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the table.

"Y/N," Rafe called, his voice cutting through the chatter. "Having fun?"

Y/N turned her head slowly, fixing him with a bored expression. "Immensely. Thanks for asking."

Topper snickered, leaning back in his chair. "You sure about that? Looked like your new boyfriend was trying a little too hard."

"Jealous, Top?" Y/N shot back, her tone saccharine sweet. "I didn't think I was your type."

Rafe's smirk widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. "What's the matter, Y/N? You settling for waiters now?"

The girls groaned audibly, Malia muttering, "Here we go."

Y/N leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table as she met Rafe's gaze head-on. "What's the matter, Rafe? Can't handle a little competition?"

"There's no competition," he shot back, his voice dripping with confidence. "We both know how this ends."

The tension between them was palpable, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. Kie looked ready to intervene, but Sarah grabbed her arm, shaking her head.

"You're delusional," Y/N said, her voice sharp. "Just because you can't handle rejection doesn't mean I'm going to cater to your bruised ego."

Rafe leaned back in his chair, his smirk unwavering. "Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart. But we both know the truth."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. Y/N's cheeks felt warm, but whether it was from anger or something else, she couldn't tell.

"Let's go," Kie said firmly, grabbing Y/N's arm.

Y/N stood abruptly, glaring at Rafe. "You're pathetic, Cameron. Enjoy your boys' club."

As the girls filed out, Y/N could feel Rafe's eyes on her, his stare as possessive and unyielding as ever.

Back at their table, Topper and Kelce were laughing, but Rafe wasn't paying attention. His mind was elsewhere, his fists clenching as he replayed the interaction with the waiter. Without a word, he got up and made his way to the kitchen.

The waiter was leaning against the counter when Rafe approached, his towering presence immediately unsettling.

"Hey," Rafe said, his voice low and menacing.

The waiter looked up, his brow furrowing. "Uh, can I help you?"

Rafe stepped closer, his gaze cold. "Yeah. Stay the hell away from Y/N."

The waiter blinked, confused. "What? Dude, I was just—"

"You were just what?" Rafe interrupted, his voice rising. "Flirting with her? Trying to impress her? Let me make this clear: she's mine. So back off. You so much as even breathe near her, I will be the reason you never will again. Got it?”

The waiter raised his hands in surrender, clearly shaken. "Alright, man. Chill. I didn't know she was...yours."

Rafe smirked, satisfied. "Now you do. Keep it that way."

As he walked back to his table, Rafe felt a grim sense of satisfaction. Y/N could play her little games, but he'd always win. She was his—whether she admitted it or not.

—

The bass thumped through the walls of Y/N's sprawling Figure 8 estate, the music so loud it felt like it shook the floor beneath Rafe's feet. The party was in full swing, her infamous gatherings never failing to attract the entire island—Kooks and Pogues alike. For one night, the divide that separated them blurred under the haze of expensive liquor, pulsating lights, and deafening music.

Rafe leaned against the bar in the corner of the room, nursing a drink he hadn't touched in the last hour. His usual cocky smirk was absent, replaced by a scowl that deepened every time someone brushed past him. He told himself he didn't care about Y/N's party, didn't care that she was in the same house, probably doing everything she could to piss him off.

But he was lying to himself, and he knew it.

For days, he'd been ignoring her, hoping distance would dull the fire she sparked in him. He knew his obsession with her was spiraling out of control, consuming him like a predator stalking its prey. But Y/N wasn't just prey—she was a fighter, stubborn and untouchable, and it made the hunt all the more maddening.

Kelce leaned against the bar beside him, talking about something Rafe wasn't listening to. His mind was too preoccupied with the faint sound of Y/N's laugh echoing through the house, the mental image of her smile, the way she always seemed to dance just out of his reach.

"Bro, you need to see this," Topper suddenly said, his voice cutting through Rafe's thoughts.

Rafe turned his head, narrowing his eyes. "What?"

Topper grinned, motioning toward the living room. "Y/N's losing her mind right now. Dancing on a table. You have to see it."

Rafe's jaw tightened, his fingers curling around the red solo cup in his hand. Topper didn't notice, too busy grabbing Kelce and a couple of others to follow him.

"C'mon, man," Topper called over his shoulder.

Rafe hesitated for a split second before downing the rest of his drink and shoving off the bar. His feet carried him toward the living room almost involuntarily, like he was drawn to her by some magnetic force.

When he stepped into the room, the scene in front of him made his blood boil.

Y/N was on top of a table in the center of the room, the crowd around her cheering and chanting her name. The bass-heavy beat of a Weeknd song pulsed through the air as she moved, her body swaying in a way that was both hypnotic and infuriating. Her dress—a tiny black number that clung to her curves and barely grazed her thighs—left little to the imagination. She ran her hands down her body as she dropped low to the beat, the crowd around her cheering and whistling.

Rafe's grip on his drink tightened, the nearly empty plastic cup crumpling slightly under the pressure. He hated this. He hated the way everyone was looking at her, like she was a piece of meat. He hated the way his sister, Sarah, and her Pogue friends were egging her on, cheering her as she danced.

But most of all, he hated the way Y/N's eyes found his in the crowd, her lips curling into a smirk as if she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

"She's so hot," Topper said beside him, nudging Kelce. "Like, insanely hot."

"Shut up," Rafe snapped, his tone sharp enough to make them both flinch.

"What's your problem?" Kelce asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rafe didn't answer. His attention was locked on Y/N, who had leaned down to respond to something JJ said. The way she bent over, laughing and tossing her hair, gave JJ a perfect view of her exposed chest. Rafe saw red.

Without thinking, he shoved his way through the crowd, ignoring the curious stares and whispers that followed him. By the time he reached the table, Y/N was already watching him with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

"Y/N," he barked, his voice cutting through the music. "Get your ass down here. Now."

She tilted her head, pretending not to hear him. "What was that?" she called, cupping her ear mockingly as she continued to dance.

"I said get down," he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Y/N crossed her arms, leaning against the makeshift pole on the table. "No, I don't think I will."

The crowd around them had started to notice the interaction, whispers spreading quickly. Why was Rafe Cameron, of all people, telling Y/N what to do? Everyone knew they hated each other—or at least, they were supposed to.

"Y/N," he growled, his patience wearing thin. "I'm not playing games. Get down."

"And I'm not taking orders," she shot back, her voice dripping with defiance.

The Pogues exchanged glances, their confusion evident. Even Sarah looked unsure, her eyes darting between her brother and her friend.

Rafe had enough. In one swift motion, he grabbed Y/N by the waist and slung her over his shoulder, ignoring her gasp of surprise.

"Rafe, what the hell?!" she shouted, kicking her legs as he pushed through the crowd. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance," he muttered, his grip like steel, holding the minimal fabric of her dress to keep her ass covered from the hungry eyes of partygoers.

The crowd parted as he stormed upstairs, the whispers following them like a shadow. Y/N's protests continued, but deep down, she reveled in the attention. She knew what this was—a game of dominance, one she had no intention of losing.

When they reached her room, Rafe punched in the code to the keypad with practiced ease. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, locking it behind them before setting her down.

Y/N crossed her arms, glaring at him. "What the hell is your problem?"

"My problem?" he shot back, his voice loud and angry. "What the hell was that downstairs?"

"That was me having fun," she retorted, stepping closer to him. "What's it to you?"

"You call that fun? Parading yourself around like a damn stripper?"

"Oh, spare me the lecture, Rafe," she snapped. "You don't own me."

"Don't I?" he countered, his voice low and dangerous.

Her breath hitched, but she didn't back down. "No, you don't. And the fact that you think you do is pathetic."

The tension between them was suffocating, their faces inches apart as they glared at each other.

"You drive me insane," Rafe muttered, his voice thick with frustration.

"Good," she shot back.

Before she could say anything else, his lips crashed against hers, the kiss rough and desperate. She melted into him for a moment before pushing him back.

"This doesn't mean you win," she whispered, her voice breathless.

Rafe smirked, his hands gripping her waist. "Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart."

Rafe used Y/N’s brief moment of weakness to his advantage, and manoeuvred her body towards the large king-sized bed in her room. He gripped her wrists in one of his hands, Y/N instantly struggling in his grip.

"You’re such a fucking brat," Rafe growled, his hands tightening around her wrists as he pinned her to the bed. Y/N's back hit the soft mattress with a soft thud, her chest rising and falling as she glared up at him, her lips swollen from his bruising kiss.

"And you're a possessive asshole," she shot back, her voice sharp despite the way her body betrayed her, arching into his touch. "But you're my possessive asshole."

Rafe's smirk was dark, predatory, as he released her hands. "Damn right I am."

He leaned down, his lips grazing her ear, his voice a low, dangerous purr that sent shivers down her spine. "You think you can keep playing games with me? You think you're in control?" His teeth nipped at her earlobe, and she gasped, her perfectly manicured nails digging into his back.

"I'm always in control," she breathed, but the tremor in her voice gave her away.

Before Rafe could respond, she bucked her hips, using the momentum to flip them over. She straddled him, her hands pressed against his chest, her hair falling in a wild curtain around her face.

"See?" she said, tilting her head with a smirk. "I'm calling the shots here."

Rafe's eyes narrowed, his hands sliding up her thighs, pushing the black fabric of her dress up, gripping her hips with a bruising force. "You keep telling yourself that, princess."

Their lips crashed together again, the kiss fierce and unrelenting. Y/N's hands tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan, while Rafe's fingers dug into her skin, leaving marks that she knew she'd wear like a badge of honour in her designer bikini’s.

They were a mess of tangled limbs and heated breaths, their bodies moving in a desperate rhythm that was as much about dominance as it was about pleasure. Y/N's nails raked down his now bare chest, and Rafe retaliated by flipping her onto her back once more, his lips trailing down her neck, leaving a trail of bites and kisses that made her head spin.

"You're mine," he muttered against her skin, his voice rough with need. "You've always been mine."

"Keep dreaming," she scoffed, but the way her body responded to him—arching into his touch, her legs tightening around his waist—told a whole different story.

Rafe pulled back, his eyes locking with hers. The intensity in his gaze was overwhelming, and for a moment, Y/N felt like she couldn't breathe. "Look at you," he said, his voice low and filled with a raw hunger that made her shiver. "You're a fucking mess for me, and you hate it."

She opened her mouth to retort, but he cut her off with a kiss that left her dizzy. His hands moved to her waist, lifting her effortlessly as he stood, carrying her to the vanity in the corner of the room.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, though her voice lacked its usual bite.

Rafe didn't answer. Instead, he set her down on the edge of the vanity, his hands gripping her hips as he manhandled her body around to face herself in the mirror. "Look at yourself," he ordered, his voice firm.

Y/N hesitated, her eyes flicking to the reflection in front of her. Her hair was disheveled, her lips swollen, her skin flushed, the thin straps of her dress hanging off her shoulders exposing the lace of her bra, the fabric of her dress crumpled up by her hips. She looked... wrecked.

And it was all because of him.

"See?" Rafe's voice was a low growl in her ear, his hands trailing down her sides. "This is what you do to me. This is what I do to you."

She opened her mouth to protest, but the words died on her lips as his hands moved to the back of her thighs, spreading them apart. His lips pressed against the curve of her neck, his teeth grazing her skin in a way that made her gasp. Rafe moved the thin lace fabric of her thong to the side, middle and ring finger running through the wetness in between her thighs, Y/N shuddering as he brushed over her clit.

"You're so fucking beautiful like this. So fucking wet all for me," he muttered, his voice thick with need. "All mine."

Y/N's breath hitched as he positioned himself behind her, his hands deftly undoing his belt then undoing the button and zip on his pants, pulling them down enough to expose his rigid cock. The sheer girth and length of it never failing to surprise Y/N.

Rafe gripped her hips with a possessiveness that made her heart race. "You're such an egomaniac," she managed to say, though her voice was breathless.

Rafe chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against her ear. "And you love it."

Before she could respond, he thrust into her, the sudden fullness making her cry out. Her hands gripped the edge of the vanity, her eyes locking with his in the mirror.

"Keep your eyes open," Rafe ordered, his voice rough. "I want you to see what I do to you."

Y/N's breath came in short gasps as he moved inside her, each thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing through her. She tried to hold his gaze, but the intensity was too much, and she had to look away, her head falling forward as a borderline pornographic moan escaped her lips.

Rafe's hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back up. "I said, keep your fucking eyes open," he growled, his voice filled with a command that she couldn't ignore.

She met his gaze in the mirror, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted as she panted. The sight of him behind her, his eyes dark with desire, his hands gripping her hips with a possessiveness that made her heart race, was almost too much to bear.

"See that?" Rafe muttered, his voice low and filled with a raw hunger that mirrored her own. "That's you. That's what I do to you."

Y/N's nails dug into the edge of the vanity as he thrust into her again, the force of it making her cry out. She could feel herself unraveling, the pleasure building inside her with each harsh thrust Rafe delivered, but she refused to give in, refused to let him have the satisfaction of seeing her fall apart.

"You're such a bastard," she managed to say, though her voice was shaky.

Rafe chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against her ear. "And you're such a brat. But you're my brat."

His hand moved between her legs, his fingers finding her clit, moving in swift circles that made her gasp, and she couldn't hold back any longer. Her body arched into his touch, her eyes locking with his in the mirror as she came undone, her moans filling the room as her pussy clenched around Rafe.

Rafe didn't stop, his movements growing more frantic as he chased his own release. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her back into him with a force that made her gasp. The sounds of slick skin colliding and gasps and moans were the only sound in the room, and Y/N was thankfully for the bass-heavy music that was playing downstairs, meaning nobody could hear them.

"You're mine," he muttered, his voice rough with need. "You've always been mine."

And as he spilled inside her, his lips pressing against her neck in a bruising kiss, Y/N couldn't help but think that maybe—just maybe—he was right.

She is his, and he is hers.

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

i had SO much fun writing this one !! there’s something about writing such a bad bitch character and she reminds me so much of a character from a wattpad fic i wrote a while ago😫

anyways, i hope you enjoy this anon !! and i hope this was what you asked for :) as always, please like and reblog and comment your thoughts !! <3

#rafe cameron #bettys asks !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#drew starkey #outer banks #fluff #obx #rafe cameron x reader #bettys work !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron smut #smut #enemies to lovers #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you

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athenamikaelson · 4 months ago

Text

Klaus Mikaelson x Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Pt. 21

Word Count- 8.4k

Warnings- UNEDITED SUE ME- It's 4 AM and I’ve been working on this for the past 5 hours. Swearing, blood, stabbing, reader threatening to off herself with a spoon (idk man), death of a background character, Klaus, Stefan.

“AHHHH,” A loud scream escapes my mouth and I grab the closest thing to me and throw it.

“I’m happy to see you as well, Y/n.”

Elijah?

I blink rapidly as I try to calm my racing heart. I stare wide-eyed at the suited Original before me, and he smiles back at me. His eyes drop momentarily and something shifts in his gaze.

“Maybe you should change, and then we’ll discuss it, " Elijah says, turning to my desk and sitting in my chair as if he owned the place.

I frown in confusion at what he meant but as I glance down at the bright pink towel that is covering my wet body I freeze.

“Oh my god!”

I tighten my grip on my towel and run towards my closet. I squeeze into my tiny closet and shut the door. As I’m trying my hardest to put any clothing on my body, I swear I can hear Elijah laugh to himself from outside the door.

As soon as I think my body is covered I take a deep breath. Elijah is in my bedroom. ELIJAH IS IN MY BEDROOM.

Deep breaths Y/n.

I release a shaky breath and open my closet door. I can feel my heart practically jump out of my chest when I lock eyes with Elijah as he smiles softly at me. His gaze drifts down and his soft smile turns into a shit-eating grin.

“Is that so, Elskan,” Elijah asks me with humor in his voice and I frown.

“What?”

Elijah doesn’t say anything but he nods towards my shirt. I don’t understand what’s funny until I realize what shirt I’m wearing.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” I say as I glance down at the shirt Theo bought for me for my birthday. The shirt that says, in big bold letters “Say Perhaps to Drugs.”

“I don’t do drugs,” I exclaim and then gesture to the door, “My brother got this for me and I knew I’d never wear it so I put it in the back of my closet but it was dark in there and so I must’ve just grabbed this.”

Elijah and I stared at each other for a moment after I got done rambling. Elijah seems to be finding everything incredibly entertaining though as his smile hasn’t dropped this entire time.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead,” I blurt out and his smile drops for a second but returns a moment later.

“I’ve been dead for a millennium, Elskan,” Elijah retorts and I glare at him.

Elijah clears his throat and straightens out his suit jacket, “You’re… acquaintance Damon took the dagger out of me. I’m to meet him tomorrow morning.”

My eyebrows furrow, “Demon, helped you? I didn’t know he was capable of that?”

Elijah releases a sigh, “You are not the only one.”

I stare at the Original in front of me, well more like ogle. Not much has changed since the last time I saw him, he’s still got his god-like bone structure, expensive-ass clothing, and beautiful dark eyes. What has changed though is the new haircut, instead of the middle part, he’s now sporting a somewhat spiky shorter hairdo. And it pisses me off just how good he makes it look.

“You got a haircut,” I state the obvious as I sit on the edge of my bed.

“Um,” I watch as Elijah fixes a stray hair of his, “I just had it done, it’s something different,” I have to bite back a smile at Elijah’s sudden awkwardness.

“I like it,” I blurt out and Elijah instantly looks up at me.

“You do?”

The smile I was holding back peeks through at the look on his face. Elijah has the same look on his that a dog has when you wave a tennis ball in front of its face.

“I mean the middle part was nice, but you have the facial structure to pull this off too, so you know,” I gesture to his cheekbones and can feel my face warming up.

“My facial structure,” Elijah questions and I want to die in a hole when I see his smirk.

I glare at Elijah and he smiles and then glances down at the book in his hands. When I realize he’s holding Fifty Shades of Grey my eyes widen.

“How did you get that?!”

Elijah glances up at me and smirks again, “I believe you just threw it at me.”

My eyes widen as I realize that the book is what I threw at him when I came into the room.

“So this is the literature that you were telling me about?”

My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water at Elijah’s questions.

“That’s not mine.”

Elijah raises an eyebrow, “It’s not?”

I shake my head, walk over to him, and reach out my hand for him to give me the book, “Nope. Just holding it for a friend.”

Elijah stares up at me with a smile and I feel a twisting in my stomach at the bright look in his eyes.

“Have you read it then?”

My face seems to be getting hotter at his question and I quickly shake my head, “Nope. Have you?”

Elijah places the book in the palm of my hand and I clutch it to my chest.

“I prefer the real thing.”

I release an abnormal sound at his comment and feel my heart stop.

“The real thing?”

Elijah smirks so hard that a small dimple is shown on his cheek, “You know, real literature. Not that,” He gestures to the book with his hand, “thing.”

]I release a deep breath, “Oh.”

Elijah nods his head and then raises an eyebrow at me, “What did you think I was talking about?”

I squint my eyes at him and then shake my head rapidly, “Same thing as you. Exactly the same thing. Um,” At the knowing look on Elijah’s face, I fight back a growl.

“How did you get in my house,” I ask, trying to change the subject.

Elijah seems to realize this as he lets out a small breathy laugh, “Your mother, is quite the inviting woman. I told her I was writing my book about Mystic Falls and that I was working on a chapter about people who’ve moved to Mystic Falls and she was quite excited to tell me her story.”

At the mention of my mother, a dark feeling washes over me and I clench my fists.

“Elskan? Is everything alright?”

I rub my shoulder and nod my head, “Peachy. Also, why are you here,” I turn to face him and he looks at me wearily.

“I’ve been gone quite a while. Not that I wanted to be, for the record. I know that my brother has been in town and I wanted to…needed to make sure you’re okay.”

My eyebrows furrow as he watches me.

“I’m fine, Elijah.”

“You don’t look fine, Y/n,” Elijah stands up and fixes his suit.

“Ouch,” I bite out sarcastically.

Elijah shoots me a look and shakes his head, “That is not what I mean, Elskan. There will never be a day in my immortality that I think you look anything other than ethereal, but… it’s in your eyes. Before I left you, you had a softer look in your eyes. But now… I’m not sure, but I know something has changed. What’s happened since I’ve been gone, Y/n?”

What’s happened since Elijah was daggered in front of me? Well…

I became besties with a vampire who was hired by his brother to stalk me.

I got shot.

Found out my dad, isn’t my dad.

Moved out and moved in with Damon, who is kind of one of my closest friends now.

I keep having tiny heart attacks.

My brother knows about the supernatural.

I got kidnapped by Stefan and was saved by his brother.

Klaus. In general. Klaus kissing me. Yup.

“Um… not much. You know, average Mystic Falls stuff.”

Elijah still stares at me like he doesn’t believe me, “Y/n-”

“Have you seen your brother yet?”

Elijah quickly stops his talking at my interruption and his upper lip twitches.

“Momentarily.”

I blow out a breath at his lack of answer and sit in the chair he was once sitting in.

“I’m going to guess that you two didn’t hug it out?”

Elijah walks over to my bookshelf and runs a finger over the spines of a few of my books.

“My brother is not someone I’d like to discuss right now. Or really at any time.”

“Then what do you want to discuss,” I question as I lean back into my chair.

Elijah turns back to glance at me, “You. I’ll always want to discuss you.”

I roll my eyes at the comment, “Nothing is interesting about me to talk about.”

Elijah walks over to me and leans against my desk. Our knees are touching and it seems to be the only thing I can focus on. I look up to Elijah and it seems I’m not the only one. Elijah’s eyes go from our touching knees to looking down at me.

“I find that incredibly doubtful, Elskan.”

I let out a light scoff but can’t stop the smile that makes its way onto my face as I look at the man. He looks back at me but this time his attention is on my lips and I swear I can see a hint of pink gracing his cheeks.

“What do you want to know?’’

Elijah quickly clears his throat and glances up to meet my eyes, “I know you have a younger brother, Theodore, how is your relationship with him?”

At the mention of Theo’s legal name I let out a laugh, “Don’t let him hear you calling him that. But…Theo’s,” I stop and smile when I think of my annoying little brother, “He’s my everything. Don’t tell him I said that or it’ll go right to his head, and he doesn’t need anything else to build his ego. But… before when I didn’t have any friends and was pretty much alone,” I stop and clear my throat, “Theo was the only one who grounded me. He didn’t care that I was a loser, it didn’t stop him from protecting me from bullies at school or sitting with me at lunch when I had no one else. He’s my buddy and best friend.”

Elijah smiles softly at me and nods his head, “I’ll have to remember to thank him for protecting you.”

I quickly shake my head, “Please don’t. Big ego and all that.”

Elijah laughs and I feel that weird turning in my stomach.

“Oh! Speaking of siblings, I met your sister.”

At the mention of Rebekah, Elijah furrows his brows, “You’ve met Rebekah?”

I nod, “Ya. She’s…something.”

Elijah shoots me a look and I continue, “Well, she’s nothing like you. I’d definitely say she’s more like Klaus. But unlike Klaus, she’s… I don’t know. Before Elena daggered her I could have seen myself being friends with her.”

“Yes, my little sister is quite the character,” Elijah frowns and narrows his eyes at me, “You said, unlike my brother… since I’ve been gone, have you and him,” Elijah picks at an invisible piece of lint on his shoulder, “discussed much?”

At the mention of Klaus, I go still.

“Y/n?”

I look up to Elijah who is eyeing me wearily, “Me and Klaus? I mean Klaus! Because there is no me and Klaus! It’s just Klaus!”

Elijah’s eyes narrow even more and I look away and glance at my hands.

“I mean he hasn’t killed me so that’s something,” I say casually trying to cover up the mess I just spilled out.

I hear Elijah let out a growl and he grabs my chin to make me look up to him, “Tell me now, Y/n. Has my brother done anything to harm you? If he has I swear to whatever Gods are out there I will-”

“Dude chill,” I move my face out of his hand and stand up.

“Klaus hasn’t hurt me,” I think about my friends, “At least not physically. Him torturing my friends has been kind of emotionally draining. But, no. Klaus, he’s been a nuisance but he’s not been horrible.”

Elijah and I watch each other, well more like I watch him and he accesses me.

“You’re being truthful with me, right Elskan?”

I nod my head and let out a dramatic yawn, “Yup, totally. God, what is the time? I’m pooped.”

Elijah shoots me a look and then rolls his eyes dramatically.

I raise an eyebrow at him and smirk, “If you keep rolling your eyes like that, you’re going to start looking like me.”

Elijah's tense shoulders loosen and he smiles at me and gestures to my bed, “How tragic that would be. Lay down, Elskan.”

I raise an eyebrow and laugh, “Why? Are you going to tuck me in and read me a bedtime story?”

Elijah walks over to me so he’s about a foot away from me, “I don’t see why not. You’ve got plenty of literature for me to read to you,” He looks back to Fifty Shades which is still sitting on my desk.

“I would rather die,” I blurt out.

Elijah laughs and picks up the edge of my comforter. He gestures for me to lay down and I bite back a smile as I do.

I get under the covers and Elijah places the comforter back down. We stare at each other for a moment before Elijah leans down. I suck in a breath and close my eyes. When I feel Elijah’s lips place a kiss on my temple I let out a sigh.

“Goodnight, Elskan. I’ll be seeing you very soon.”

—-

My father’s in transition.

I stare blankly at the text from Caroline as I read it over and over again.

Excuse me?

Meredith Fell gave him blood and he died with it in his system.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Ok. Should I meet you at the hospital? I can leave now????

I stare at the three dots as I wait for Caroline to finish typing. After what seems like forever I finally get a response.

No. Elena is on her way. Just wanted to keep you updated.

As soon as I read the text I pull out Elena’s contact and type out a message.

WHAT THE HELL????!!! Who killed Caroline’s dad?????

We’re not sure yet. There is someone going around killing council members. Sheriff Forbes said they were killed with one of the stakes from Ric’s collection. I’ll update you later. Stay safe<3

I sit on the edge of my bed, mouth wide open as I stare at the bomb drop that is this text message. Does Mystic Falls have a serial killer? What the fuck am I thinking?! Of course, it does, because what else could be more fucked up about this god-forsaken town!??

I throw my phone on my nightstand and run across the hall to Theo’s room. I throw open his door and my little brother lets out a squeal.

“Jesus woman! Knock first! I could’ve been indecent,” Theo says as he tightens his silk robe around himself dramatically.

“When have you ever been decent in the first place,” I place my hand on my hip and glare at him.

Theo gives me an offended look.

“Also, Mystic Falls now has a serial killer,” I drop the bomb and Theo blinks at me for a few moments.

“Repeat that one more time for me,” He gestures to his right ear.

“Serial. Killer. Mystic. Falls. Stay. Inside.”

Theo nods for a moment before turning around and running towards his phone, “Leave now woman, I must tell my precious baby boy about this.”

I roll my eyes and watch as my pathetic brother dials up Jeremy’s phone number.

“You’re welcome.”

—

For the rest of the afternoon, I tried to do anything to keep me busy. I tried painting, but couldn’t paint anything. I tried reading, but couldn’t focus on the words. I even tried yoga, and now I have pains in my lower back.

To say I pretty much jumped when my phone finally rang is an understatement.

“Hello! What’s going on!?”

“Woah, Pukey. Glad to know you’re finally excited to hear from me,” Demon’s sarcastic voice comes through on the other end.

“You’re not who I was hoping it would be,” I groan.

“And who were you hoping? A certain Original maybe? Not sure which one you were hoping for though. We need to have another movie night so you can update me on your latest conquest.”

“What the hell are you gabbing about now, Demon?”

“Oh you know, a certain suited Original. Or maybe his younger brother who just happened to save your life the other night. Just between us girls, which one is currently tickling your fancy?”

I tighten my grip on my phone, “I’m hanging up.”

“Wait! I have a favor to ask,” Damon stops me from ending the call.

I sigh, “What is it now?”

“I need you to get yourself all dolled up and make your way to the big bad wolf’s house at 8.”

At the idea of seeing Klaus, I freeze up.

“Pukey?”

I shake my head, “That’s not happening, Damon. Deal with him on your own.”

“Y/n, come on. Help a friend out.”

“We’re not friends,” I retort.

“Lovers?”

“I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

“I just love your dirty talk. It amazes me how you’re still single,” Damon’s sarcastic response has my upper lip twitching.

“I’ll help you stab Stefan with a fork if you come.”

I look back to my closet, “Eight, you said?”

—

I let out the biggest sigh possible as I stared at the huge mansion in front of me. I then groan when the fabric of my short dress rides its way up my thighs.

After I got off the phone with Damon I went to my closet to find something to wear. I then realized that the only nice clothing I had was the clothes that Alastair bought for me. And as much as I hate saying it, he does have pretty good taste in fashion.

As I try to pull down the short hem of my black lace dress though, I’m not realizing he isn’t the best at guessing women’s sizes. Every time I pull my dress down so I cover half my thigh, the tiny spaghetti straps holding the dress up pull down farther to give an ample view of my chest. Fantastic.

I make my way up the stairs and I just have to keep reminding myself that I’ll get to stab Stefan. When I reach the huge front door I let out a deep breath and knock on it with my shaking hand.

Not even a moment later a blonde woman in a gold dress answers the door, “Can I help you?”

I stare at her confused, “Um, I’m here for a dinner party?”

The woman stares at me blankly and nods her head, “Of course. Right this way,” she says to me in a monotone voice, and I’ve concluded that she’s most likely been compelled.

The blonde woman leads me through the house and into a large room where Damon, Elijah, Klaus, and Not-Yoda are conversing. They’ve all noticed my arrival now but I just stare at Damon hoping he’ll take the lead on this one.

“There’s my girl,” Damon loudly says as he hops up the steps to me and reaches out his arm for me to take, “I was wondering what was taking you so long.”

I shoot Damon a questioning look at his odd behavior but as I look at the other three men’s surprised faces I’m concluding that they didn’t know I was coming.

“Elskan, I…,” Elijah stares at me as his eyes move quickly over me and I bite my lip in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry for crashing your party,” I gesture towards the door, “I’m just going to leave.”

“Wait,” Elijah calls after me and I watch as he climbs the steps to where Damon and I are standing, “Please, join us.”

I look down at Elijah who has his hand raised for me to take, then to Damon who has a smirk on his face, then to Stefan who looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here, and then to Klaus. The hybrid is sitting in a chair closest to the wall, from his casual posture someone would think he’s in a good mood but as he raises a glass of red liquid to his lips, but as his dark blue eyes meet mine, I can see the dark fire burning underneath his surface.

And that’s when I realize, Elijah may want me here, but his younger brother certainly doesn’t.

“Y/n?”

I look away from Klaus and back to Elijah who is looking at me expectantly.

“Um, ya. If that’s alright with you,” I take my arm out of Damon’s and place my left hand into Elijah’s. He slightly tugs me away from Damon with a smile on his face. But as I come almost chest to chest with him his smile drops and dark looks cover his face. A sick feeling builds in my stomach as Elijah drops my hand and grabs my shoulder. I frown, in confusion, but when his thumb grazes my gunshot scar I tense up.

“What happened here,” Elijah’s usually light voice drops into something that makes me want to crawl into a ball and hide. When I look up at him though, I realize he wasn’t asking me, instead he was asking the other men in the room.

Elijah’s hand hasn’t left its position on my shoulder as he glares at the three men in the room.

“I suggest one of you answer me, now.”

“She was shot,” Damon answers for the other two men.

Elijah’s thumb stops its grazing and his gaze goes from my scar to Damon.

“Who did it?”

At Elijah’s harsh tone, Damon shoots me a look and I shrug.

“It was an accident,” Damon tries to joke.

Elijah doesn't seem to find it funny though as a low growl escapes him, making me flinch back.

“Brother,” Klaus practically growls at his older brother.

Elijah’s gaze quickly turns to me and his dark look drops as soon as he makes eye contact with me.

“Elskan,” Elijah takes a step towards me and I take a step back towards Damon.

The look of utter heartbreak on Elijah’s face makes something deep inside me break as he lowers his hand that is outstretched for me.

“Can we just get this dinner over with,” Stefan interrupts us with his annoyed tone.

I turn my gaze to the asshole but can still feel Elijah’s eyes on me.

“That would be great,” Damon says and slowly gestures for me to go in front of him.

I nod and start to walk towards the table when I realize there are only four chairs.

“Oh.”

“Here let me, Elskan,” Elijah quickly says and goes to the edge of the room grabs a chair, and places it at the table. He stands behind it and gestures for me to sit down. I smile at him and nod in thanks. This seems to bring back his mood as his eyes lighten at my acknowledgment.

After I sit down, Elijah seats himself in the chair to my right. I then look to my left and realize that Klaus is seated right beside me.

A girl dressed in the same gold one as before places a plate and silverware in front of me but almost all of my attention is on Klaus. Who seems to not even care to recognize my existence. I mean why should I care though? Right?

—

“You lost your appetite. Eat,” Klaus Says to Stefan who is sitting directly across from us.

Damon chastises his little brother, “I thought we agreed to leave the grumpy Stefan at home.”

I roll my eyes as I pick at the mashed potatoes on my plate. We’ve been sitting for maybe 5 minutes and yet Stefan has already found a way to ruin the night.

Stefan gives his brother and Klaus a fake smile before picking at the food on his plate.

“That’s the spirit,” Klaus smirks.

“Wine, Miss?”

I turn my shoulder to one of the waitresses who is holding out a bottle of wine. I shake my head.

“No, thank you. I don’t drink.”

The girl nods her head and then walks over to Klaus and offers him wine.

“You don’t drink?”

My attention turns to Elijah who is leaning towards me with an interested look on his face.

I shake my head, “I’m not 21.”

Elijah smiles at me, “I know that. But, if you wanted some, I’m sure no one here would tell the authorities.”

I look at the glass of wine in front of Klaus and a wave of nausea rolls through me, “No. I’m good with my water. Thanks,” I smile and hope he drops the subject.

Thankfully Klaus loves hearing himself speak.

“Isn’t this nice,” He asks us, “The five of us dining together. Such a treat. Is this what you had in mind when you pulled the dagger out of my brother?”

I let out a low breath and sip my water as I watch the men in front of me start their little war.

“Well, I know what he felt about you, so I figured, the more…the merrier,” Damon smirks and winks at Elija, and I shake my head. This guy really needs to realize he can’t keep picking fights with men 10 times his age.

“Well,” Klaus responds, “Elijah and I have had our share of quarrels over the centuries, but we always make it through.”

“Kind of like, uh, you and Rebekah, right,” Stefan joins in and I set down my water, “Where is she, by the way? Last I checked, she was still daggered because you were afraid to face her.”

“If you’re referring to the fact that Rebekah knows I killed our mother I’ve already come clean to Elijah.”

Klaus’ words have me glancing at Elijah. Although his face appears nonchalant I watch as his fingers tightly grip the glass he’s holding. It doesn’t take him but a moment to notice my staring and he shoots me a small smile.

“Hey, Stef, remember when you killed Dad? Might want to dial down the judgment till dessert,” Damon remarks to his brother, and my eyebrows raise.

“Oh, so hurting people you supposedly care about is something you’ve been doing for over a century now,” I smile snarkily at the vampire who glares at me, “And here I thought it was only something you did to your girlfriend, and friends.”

Stefan goes to say something but I clear my throat and raise a hand stopping him, “My apologies,” I place a hand to my chest, “I meant ex-girlfriend.”

I hear Klaus snort into his drink from beside me and I jolt when I feel his hand grip my thigh and squeeze it.

“I fear I might’ve missed some things,” Elijah shoots me a look with a sly smile.

Klaus still has his hand gripping my thigh so focusing is starting to become hard.

“Yes, you’ve missed my brother burning all the bridges he once had,” Damon responds and then takes a sip of his wine.

“Kind of like the bridge he tried driving me and his EX-girlfriend off of,” I respond casually and I feel Klaus squeeze my thigh again.

“You did what,” Elijah’s voice comes out low and I look over to see him glaring at Stefan, the latter who is trying his hardest not to make eye contact with the Original.

“Ooookay. We’re here to make a deal, gentlemen. Not kill each other,” Damon tries to clear the air.

“Might want to remind your brother that,” I bite out and match Elijah’s glare.

Damon shoots me a look and I roll my eyes.

“We have a long evening ahead of us,” Damon continues, “Pace yourselves.”

—-

“Where is the lovely Elena tonight,” Elijah asks at the table and I glance at my phone hoping to get a message from anyone. But frown when I see only one text notification from Theo asking how to cook instant noodles. I don’t respond.

“I don’t know. Ask Damon,” Stefan says and Klaus and I both laugh.

“I’d say to ask your little girlfriend over here,” Damon points to me and I stare wide-eyed at him. I feel Klaus’ hand tighten around my thigh.

“I’m sorry,” Klaus looks over to his brother, “you’ve missed so much. Ah, trouble in paradise.”

“One more word about Elena and this dinner is over,” Stefan gazes at everyone at the table and I roll my eyes.

“And here I thought you were melodramatic when you were off blood,” I stare blankly at the vampire across from me who stares back at me.

“I never understood why Elena was friends with you,” Stefan responds.

“And what is that supposed to mean,” I lean forward and glare at him.

Stefan shrugs and leans back, “I just mean that all of her other friends aren’t fragile like you. Physically and emotionally. I mean you’ve had to realize that you’re always the last one to find out about things going on. It's because you’re nothing but a liability.”

I stare at Stefan and for a moment I’m right back to the scared little girl who would puke at the first sign of danger. Because he’s right. I am a liability. There’s nothing special about me. I’m just some weak human that no one wants around because they know I’ll just get hurt. Or throw up.

I’m still sitting silent when I hear Elijah’s chair push backward. But before he can do anything Stefan is being dragged out of his chair by the next by Klaus.

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear old friend,” Klaus brings Stefan up to his face as Klaus growls down to him, “If I catch you even looking in Y/n’s direction one more time tonight, coffin or no coffin, I will rip you apart. Limb by bloody limb, and feed your body parts to your brother,” Klaus grips Stefan’s throat tighter to the point where I think he’s going to kill him, “Have I made myself clear?”

I watch in shock, along with Elijah and Damon who appear to be the same as Stefan nods to Klaus.

“Words, Stefan,” Klaus growls.

“I won’t look at her,” Stefan chokes out.

In a second Stefan is being dropped to the ground and Klaus is walking back over to his seat as if nothing happened.

“Perfect,” Klaus smirks, “Shall we continue?”

I stare wide-eyed at the hybrid next to me, but he doesn’t look over at me.

I look over to Elijah who sits back in his seat, but his gaze is on his brother. A look I can’t quite distinguish is on his face.

“Alright…let’s keep Elena and Y/n, in the “Do Not Discuss” pile,” Damon says.

The other men nod their heads but a chuckle from Klaus has me sighing.

“It’s just the allure of the Petrova Doppelganger is still so strong,” Klaus says and a wave of jealously washes over me.

“What do you say, brother? Should we tell them about Tatia,” Klaus turns to his brother who lets out a sigh.

Elijah shakes his head, “Now why should we discuss matters long since resolved?”

I furrow my brows at Elijah’s comment.

“Well, given their shared affection for both Elena and Katerina I think our guests might be curious to learn about the originator of the Petrova line.’’

I take a long sip of my water and start to regret not getting that glass of wine when I had the chance.

“Well, we’re not going anywhere Elijah. Please, do tell,” Damon says.

“Please, don’t,” I whisper under my breath and feel Klaus’ hand squeeze my thigh again.

“When our family first settled here there was a girl named Tatia. She was an exquisite beauty. Every boy of age desired to be her suitor. Even though she’d had a child by another man. And none loved her more than Niklaus,” Elijah says, and that wave of jealousy from before builds.

“Oh, I’d say there was one who loved her at least as much,” Klaus says thoughtfully and I roll my shoulders in annoyance.

“Wait a minute,” Stefan cuts in, “you both loved the same girl?”

I place my right hand on my thigh and tighten it into a fist as I stare at Stefan. I’m about to break skin when a hand pulls my fingers apart and intertwines its fingers with my own.

I look up at Elijah who is already staring at me with a worried look.

I have one left thigh being grabbed by Klaus and my right hand intertwined with Elijah. What the actual fuck is going on right now?

Elijah squeezes my hand before continuing, “Our mother was a very powerful witch. She sought to end our feud with Tatia and so she took her. And Klaus and I would later learn that it was Tatia’s blood that we consumed in the wine on the night where our mother performed the spell which turned us into vampires.”

I release a small gasp and squeeze Elijah’s hand in comfort. What kind of mother would do that to her children?

“Tatia wouldn’t make a decision between the two of us so for a time, Niklaus and I grew estranged. Harsh words were traded. We even came to blows, didn’t we, brother?”

“But in the end, we recognized the sacred bond of family,” Klaus responds.

“Family above…all,” Elijah finishes.

Each brother uses their free hand to cheer their drinks together, and at the same time, I feel Klaus tighten his hold on my thigh and Elijah squeezes my hand.

What the fuck.

—-

“So why don’t we move this evening along and discuss the terms of this proposal,” Elijah asks the Salvawhore brothers.

“Well,” Damon starts, “It’s very simple. Klaus gets his coffins back. In exchange, he and the Original extended family leave Mystic Falls forever. Me, Stefan, Elena, and Pukey, live happily ever after…no grudges.”

At the thought of never seeing Elijah…or Klaus again a weird feeling washes through me.

“Most of the deal sounds fair, brother,” Elijah says.

“I don’t think you understand,” Klaus responds, “Elena’s Doppelganger blood ensures that I will always have more hybrids to fight those that oppose me. I will never leave her behind.”

Klaus stands up, and I can finally release a breath as his warm hand is gone from my thigh.

“Let’s say I do leave her here under your protection, what then? How long before one of you turns her into a vampire? Or worse, how long before she dies caught between your feuding, you see each one of you truly believes that you’re the one that can protect her. And that is simply a delusion. Gentlemen…the worst thing for Elena Gilbert is…the two of you.”

I try not to agree with Klaus’ words but he’s kind of right.

“I’m gonna get some air,” Damon says and gets up from the table.

Elijah squeezes my hand before standing up, “Let me deal with this,” He says before following Damon. Which I find quite odd.

“All this talk has made me thirsty,” Klaus says as he leans on the top of his chair.

“What do you say, Stefan,” Klaus gestures to one of the servers, “Can I interest you in a little after-dinner drink?”

Within in split second Klaus is biting into the poor woman’s neck and I flinch backward. I quickly stand up from my chair and away from Klaus. I watch in horror as Klaus drains the young woman.

“Klaus, stop! You’re going to kill her,” I try to beg him but he doesn’t spare me a glance as he drops the poor girl's body down on the ground. I rush over to her to check for a pulse but feel tears rush to my eyes when I feel nothing.

“Oh come on, Princess,” I feel Klaus touch my shoulder and I flinch away from him. Something shifts in his face at my movement but quickly morphs back into his sarcastic smirk, “Get off the floor, it’s dirty. You’ll ruin the pretty dress of yours.”

“Don’t touch me,” I look up at him and growl.

“Well, you two will make a happy couple,” Stefan remarks as he stands up from his chair.

Klaus’ attention goes from me to Stefan as he glares at him.

“I guess the only reason agreed to this evening, Klaus is to drive a wedge between me and my brother,” Stefan says as he walks over to Klaus.

I wipe the hair away from the poor girl’s face and then stand up, distancing myself from the two men.

“Oh no, you’re doing that well enough on your own. Because of Elena, you’re going to lose your brother and you’ll only have yourself to blame,” Klaus says.

“What do you say, Klaus? It’s time for you to put something on the table. We’ve made our offer, now you counter” Damon enters the room again followed by Elijah. The latter’s attention goes to me and a worried expression comes over his face as he rushes over to me.

Elijah raises his hands and wipes away tears from my face, “What happened? Are you hurt?”

I don’t say anything as I look over at the dead girl on the floor. I hear Elijah take a deep sigh as he looks at her and then he gestures to someone behind us. Right after two waiters walk over to her body and pick her up off the floor.

I watch wordlessly as they take her lifeless body out of the room.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Elskan. My brother shouldn’t have done that in front of you.”

“He shouldn’t have done it at all,” I bite out quietly.

“It’s ironic,” Stefan’s voice pulls all of our attention as he gestures to Klaus and then Elijah, “You talk about how Damon and I are causing a rift between ourselves because of Elena when you and Elijah are clearly doing the same.”

I frown as Stefan looks over to Klaus and then over to me and Elijah. I frown in confusion.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Stefan. Once again your bloodlust has made you irrational,” Klaus responds sarcastically but his voice is deeper than before and I feel Elijah pull me behind him.

“Don’t play dumb Klaus,” Stefan smirks snarkily at the Orignal, “I know what she is to you. And from the way Elijah hangs onto every word she says as if she’s the only thing in this world that exists to him, I’m going to take a wild guess and say she’s the same thing to him. So tell me, which of us is truly going to be torn away from our brother?”

I stared confused at the men in front of me.

“Elijah, what is he talking about?”

I walk next to Elijah but he won’t look down at me, “It’s nothing, Y/n. Ignore him. Mr. Salvatore, don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink tonight?”

At Elijah’s equally dark tone, I get even more confused.

“Will someone just tell me what the hell is going on?!”

Stefan finally looks over to me and I see Elijah start to move in front of me again but I push him back, “Don’t.”

“Mr. Salvatore if you continue, I will rip your head from your shoulders,” Elijah threatens Stefan.

“Let’s go back to the negotiating shall we,” Klaus interrupts and I shoot him a glare.

“Fuck no! I swear to god if someone doesn't start giving me answers soon I’m going to kill myself in front of you all right now to change the trajectories of ALL your lives,” I yell out and move towards the table and grab a knife. Shit. Not a knife, a spoon.

“Stefan,” I turn and glare at the vampire who watches me with a raised eyebrow, “Spill it.”

“Stefan if you do I swear to-” Klaus begins and I hold the spoon up to my neck and glare at him. He just looks at me like I’m a nuisance.

“Shut it, dog!”

“Brother, maybe this is something that should be held off for another time,” Damon chimes in from the background.

“You shut it too, Manwhore,” I glare at Damon who raises his hands in surrender.

“Elskan,” Elijah says and I look over to see him walking towards me and I glare at him, “Let us finish dinner, and then I give you my word that we will discuss this.”

I shake my head at his words, “No. You’ll just come up with another excuse or you’ll say again that I can’t know just yet. And I’m sick of it! I’m not some liability, compared to what everyone thinks! I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

Elijah sends me a sad look that pisses me off, “I know, Y/n. No more of that, I promise you.”

I stare at him for a moment before turning towards Klaus who is glaring at his older brother, “Brother, you can’t be serious?!”

“Niklaus she deserves to know,” Elijah says and Klaus opens his mouth to begin to argue.

“Screw this,” I hear Stefan say, “Y/n, you’re their soulmate. Which is a supernatural phenomenon that only happens to a few supernaturals.”

“Fuck,” I hear Elijah mutter under his breath.

I loud growl escapes Klaus as he rushes over to Stefan and grabs him by the throat.

“I’m sorry, what,” I release a laugh at the absurdity that is that answer.

All the men turn to look at me and I place the spoon back on the table.

“That’s a ridiculous answer, Stefan, thanks for the laugh but now the adults are talking,” I turn back to Elijah, “So you’ll tell me after dinner?”

Elijah stands there silently, as he just blinks at me with his mouth slightly open.

I raise an eyebrow at him and then turn to Klaus, “What’s wrong with him?”

Klaus drops Stefan and then looks at Elijah and then at me. He opens his mouth and then closes it again.

“How about we discuss this after dinner,” Klaus asks and I sigh but nod my head.

“If you don’t keep your word, I’m daggering you myself,” I turn back and glare at Elijah who blinks at me again.

“Alright then,” Klaus starts, “I offer Elena’s future happiness. You see what she needs right now is to be rid of you lot and to fall in love with a human. Maybe that nice football player. You know the blonde one.”

“Matt Donovan? Really,” Damon asks disgustedly.

“Ya, why not? They’ll marry, live a long fruitful life and pop out a perfect family.”

“And continue the Petrova bloodline,” Stefan concludes, “Every few hundred years you’ll have a new Doppelganger to drain and never run out of hybrids, right, Klaus?”

“Consider it a small return on my investment in her well-being. See, after you hand me back the coffin. I’ll ensure her safety for the rest of her natural life. You know it's what’s best for her. So… What do you say, Stefan,” Klaus walks over to the younger vampire, “Do we have a deal?”

Stefan meets Klaus in the middle and goes to shake Klaus’ hand.

“Nice try, Klaus. But no deal,” Stefan says, and within a second Klaus is breaking Stefan’s hand and legs. And then brings his hand to the flames of the fireplace.

Damon begins to run to help his brother but Elijah easily grabs him by the throat and holds him to the wall. All I do though I stand by the table and drink my water.

“Now bring me my coffin before I burn him alive,” Klaus says to Damon who finally relents.

“Go with him, brother. You keep him honest. When you return I will make good on my promise to you and I will hand over our family,” Klaus says to Elijah who gives me a quick glance before following behind Damon.

With a sigh, I sit down at the table again sip my water, and pick at the leftover corn. Behind me, Klaus is still threatening and burning Stefan but I honestly don’t give a damn. He needs to be brought down a peg. Wait…

“Klaus,” I turn in my chair and the hybrid looks over to me.

“What is it, love? I’m kind of in the middle of something here,” He gestures to Stefan and I shrug.

“While you’ve got him down there,” I stand up and sneakily grab the carving knife off the table, “Damon promised me I could have something if I came tonight. And since he; 's currently gone I was hoping you could help me,” I send him a sickly sweet smile and something shifts in his face and his smile matches mine.

“I don’t see why I can’t,” Klaus smirks and I practically skip over to the two men.

When I get in front of Stefan who looks up at me with a glare, I lean down to meet eye level with him. At the same time, I see Klaus tighten his hold on Stefan. I look up at the hybrid but he’s already watching me with an intense gaze.

“I thought we were friends Stefan. I told you things about myself that I don’t tell many people. And you know what you did,” I fake a frown and lean closer into the vampire, “You threatened my little brother and tried to drown me. So fuck you,” Right when I say the last words I take the knife that is in my hands and plunge it into Stefan’s stomach.

Stefan drops to the ground in pain and Klaus lets him. That red-hot anger I felt those weeks ago returns as I watch Stefan try to pry the bloody knife out of his stomach.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more attracted to a woman more, in my entire life, Astin Min.”

Klaus’ words shock me out of my trance and I look up to see him staring down at me with an undistinguishable look.

Klaus raises his hand and wipes a finger across my cheek. When he brings his finger back the tip of it is covered in blood, Stefan’s blood.

I watch almost entranced as Klaus locks eyes with me as he brings his finger to his lips and sucks the blood off his finger.

“What’s going on here,” Elijah’s voice has me quickly stepping away from both of the men.

Elijah’s eyes trail over me and stop at my hands which I can see now are covered in blood.

“Damon said I could do it,” I quickly point at the vampire standing next to him who shoots me a glare.

“Why haven’t you left,” Klaus asks his brother as a waitress enters the room carrying a serving tray.

Elijah’s narrowed eyes leave mine to move to his brother, “Well, where are your manners, brother? You forgot dessert?”

I hope it’s a strawberry shortcake!

Elijah rips a blanket off of the tray to reveal two daggers. Damnit.

“What have you done,” Klaus takes a step back.

“What have you done,” Elijaah retorts, “See, I’ve learned not to trust your vulgar promises, Klaus. We’re doing this on my terms now.”

Why was that kind of attractive? No, Y/n. Stop it!

All of a sudden a young attractive man enters the room behind Elijah and Klaus.

“Kol,” Klaus exclaims.

“Long time, brother,” “Kol” Responds.

Klaus backs away shaking his head and the scared look on his face makes me feel sick. Klaus goes to escape but a man with long brown hair stops him.

“Finn, don’t!”

“Finn” stabs Klaus right in his hand and I take a step forward. Within a second though my view is being blocked by Elijah.

“Stay back,” Elijah softly whispers to me and reaches a hand behind him for me to take. I look at my shaking bloody hand and intertwine it with his.

Klaus speeds towards the other exit but Rebekah comes into view.

“Rebekah,” Klaus exclaims right when his sister stabs him in the stomach.

“I can’t watch,” I lean into Elijah and he pulls me into him hiding my face into his neck.

“This is for our mother,” I hear Rebekah say.

“You’re free to go,” Elijah's chest rumbles as he speaks. I look up at him and he glances down at me and uses his hand to brush away the hair on my face.

“You can stay or leave,” He whispers down to me and I turn to see everyone in the room staring at me now.

“Ah, Elijah! You’ve finally met your soulmate,” Kol smirks as he takes a step towards us and Elijah lets out a low growl, “Congrats brother.”

At Kol’s words, I frown, “Elijah? What is he talking about?”

“Kol, you daft idiot,” Rebekah screeches, “She doesn’t know she’s Nik’s soulmate yet!”

“Nik’s soulmate? No, she’s quite clearly Elijah’s,” Kol gestures to how Elijah is holding on to me.

Rebekah, Kol, and the other sibling, Finn, all stare at me with confused looks on their faces before Kol breaks out into a loud laugh.

“Bloody hell! You poor girl,” Kol stares wide-eyed at me and then at Elijah and Klaus, the latter who watches his younger brother with a glare, “You got sacked with both of them. Didn’t you?”

I stare at the young man in front of me and can start to feel myself shake, “Elijah what’s happening?”

“I’ll explain everything, Elskan. Let the Salvatores take you home and I swear to you I will explain it all,” Elijah says and I release a shaky breath as I nod at his words.

Elijah presses a kiss to my temple before nodding to Damon, who quickly comes and grabs my upper arm.

“Mr. Salvatore, I promise you if anything happens to her while in your care…”

Damon quickly nods his head, “I got it. Come on, Pukey. Let’s go home.”

The last thing I see before I exit the room is the pain-stricken eyes of the Original hybrid.

603 notes · View notes

byuntrash101 · 1 year ago

Text

the good friend

f!reader x san x mingi ft ateez smut | mdni 3.4k san has known about mingi’s crush on his girlfriend for a while now. he also happens to be a very good and caring friend who values their friendship very much. and san would do just about anything to help a friend nsfw tags under the cut

a lil plot, idol!au, established relationship, bf san, mingi is the simp master, also rengoku hair mingi because i miss him, alcohol consumption (but consent is unquestionable), safe word mentionned but not used, pet names, (baby, princess, sannie...), unprotected sex (recommanded by 0/10 dentists), wall sex, semi public sex (full dorm hallway sex), exhbitionism/voyeurism, dirty talk, slight breath play (gentle), masturbation (f & m), controlled orgasm (f)

a/n: OMGGGG THIS ONE IS JUST SDMLKSQDMMSQLKKFF. i kinda like how turned out because im feral and shameless when it comes to these men. if you like it PLEASE TELL ME i might make a part 2 👀

@shinestarhwaa for you boo <3

sequel | ateez masterlist | navigation

It’s funny how Mingi is still stuck in this same situation years later, he thought while staring at you from across the kitchen table. When he first saw you 5 years ago, your back leaned against the company building, eyes glued to your phone, he thought of how pretty you were but he was late for practice again and he knew he was going to be scolded by Hongjoong so he just hurried himself in.

This encounter should have been left at that, he would have forgotten about you the next day and he would be at peace right now.

But no.

You were still waiting there when he got out much much later at night, sweaty, tired and starving. He took a look at you again but this time you lifted your face from the screen of your phone and your eyes met. He didn’t know why he was flustered and cursed himself silently when he whipped his head to the side, quickly breaking eye contact. But despite the uninviting body language you took the first step in his direction. It took everything he had in him not to stumble back and stand his ground in the most natural way he could muster given his current state.

‘Hmm… Excuse me?” you started hesitantly, “Hmm… I’m looking for…” Mingi was all ears and eyes for you, focussing on your every move and word. In that split instant he noticed the color of your eyes, the soft texture of your hair and the mesmerizing way your lips moved to form words, that made sentences which he was supposed to listen to and he was arguably doing a poor job. But right when he was losing focus you were interrupted.

“Y/N!!” San’s voice resonated from the entryway. You whipped your head in the direction of the voice and turned away from Mingi with the most radiant and heavenly smile he had ever seen.

“Nevermind. Thank you” you said quickly before running to San’s side.

Mingi stood there for a second completely stunned as he watched the pair of you walking away, San’s hand reaching for yours right before you disappeared at the intersection.

The next day San made him promise not to tell anyone he saw you waiting for him. He didn’t tell him exactly you were his girl but Mingi was smart enough to figure that out on his own.

And that should have been the end of the story. You should have remained San’s secret girlfriend and Mingi would have forgotten about you and your perfect smile in a week or two…

But once again… no. It did not go that way.

Over the years it got worse. You both grew, you weren’t 18 anymore. You grew into a beautiful, stunning woman and Mingi grew into a man. And you even became friends. With the years you got to meet the rest of Ateez. You became friends with all of them but you were closest to Mingi without a doubt, much to his disarray.

That’s exactly how he came to stare at you from across the kitchen table as you were leaning your head on San’s broad shoulder, barely holding your head up as you had one too many bottles of grapefruit soju. San was gently caressing your flushed cheek.

Everybody was laughing, drinking and enjoying themselves, but Mingi who was also slightly drunk just couldn’t stop staring at you, stealing glances at you through his eyelashes. To the others he looked like he was zoning out like he usually does after a drink or two but in fact he was focussing on you. Precisely on your neck and the sleeve of your top slowly sliding off your shoulder. The large and rounded neckline of your loose oversized top was barely hanging to the edge of your shoulder at this point and if you moved even in the slightest it would completely expose your shoulder. To everyone present that wasn’t a big deal. Nobody had even noticed apart from Mingi. And when you lift your head up again to bark at Wooyoung that was making fun of you for being a lightweight it happened.

The tired sleeve gave in. Mingi had a front row seat on your delicate collar bone and the smooth skin of your shoulder lightly shiny. If only that was it he could have handled it but the large neck line was also hanging very low on your chest so low that his eyes were rapidly forgetting about your shoulder to solely focus on your chest. His eyes scanned the shadow of your cleavage, the ceiling light was casting on you, he imagined how your breasts would feel in his large palms, how soft your skin would be and how your nipples would taste on his tongue.

He thought so much that he started pitching a tent in his large cargo pants. The tent of shame like he liked to call it. The tent he tried to fight off so many times because San was one of his best friends… And you were… his.

That thought broke his own heart.

“Well! I’m swamped, guys. I’m going to bed” he declared getting up, both fists stuffed in his large pockets concealing the “shame”.

The others grumbled to make him stay. They were having a nice time but honestly he just wanted to catch a break from his own heart and hop into the shower.

San knew exactly why he wanted to leave. He had known for a while about Mingi’s feelings for you. In reality everyone knew except for two people. One was Mingi who thought he was so good at concealing himself when in reality he was staring at you like a puppy all day and the other one was yourself. You just never noticed because to you Mingi was a friend, an attractive friend, granted! But a friend nonetheless. You didn’t think further than that. To you the idea of him having feelings for you was so far-fetched that the thought never entered the realm of possibilities.

Once Mingi had decided to go, the members followed one by one, Hongjoong was the second one. At the end only Wooyoung and Yeosang were playing a drinking game while you and San crashed on the couch.

San was absentmindedly playing with your hair when he caught your hand dangerously slipping below his belt. He gripped your wrist firmly, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

“Y/n~~” he quietly singsang. He knew that was going to happen. Alcohol had only one single effect on you. It made you horny. Without fail, whenever you all gathered like this and drank, it made you feral. And today San felt mischievous.

***

Mingi exhaled a big sigh before stepping in the shower, the hot water running on his large back helped him take his mind off the chatter and laughter erupting from the living room at the end of the hall for a while he just glided the soap across his body. The hot air made him dizzy. He felt the warm water on his face letting the stream run down his hair. As he closed his eyes, flashes of you came back to him.

Your cute flushed face, eyelids half closed, your eyes made sparkly from the soju, this adorable dorky smile you wore all evening, the exposed patch of skin, the neckline of your top hanging so low on your chest. He wondered without even realizing about the way he would have loved to lay you down on that table right there. Peeling your clothes one by one, taking his sweet time admiring your body slowly giving away all its secrets.

He felt himself becoming hard again. He kept his eyes shut as he guided the soapy foam along his half hard member.

He dreamed about the melodic wet sounds you would make when he would slide inside you, about the way you would grip him so perfectly, about how your eyes would roll back and your lips would lazily hang open as you lost yourself to his cock, abandoning yourself to him, only him.

He gripped his length even tighter, rapidly dragging his fist up and down his shaft, turning his tip bright red from his arousal and the hot water.

He thought even harder about your hands muffling your high pitched moans shamefully as his powerful thrusts rocked your body under him.

Fuck he wants to see you like that, he wants to have you like that he thought as he drove himself crazy, on the verge of bursting. He felt himself twitch in his hand, precum and soap mixing perfectly making this sinful act easier than ever.

“Fuck” he grunted considering to finally let himself go but at the last second he opted out of it. He suddenly let go of the aching organ, twitching and pulsing, hot and dripping red tip begging for release.

But Mingi just couldn’t keep doing that anymore. Just seeing you in the day act like your friend and fuck himself to the thought of you at night. He had to somehow snap out of this trance, break free from the spell you casted on him five years ago back in Gang-nam.

After five years he had to come to the realization that you were with San and you would never be with him.

So without thinking twice Mingi turned the water from scolding hot to icy. That had two purposes: one calming his raging boner and two taking his mind off the painful reality he had to accept. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth and hissed in discomfort at the sudden temperature change. But it was efficient enough.

He quickly dried off and wrapped the wet towel around his waist. He crossed the living room to head out to the hall where San's room and his were. But when he entered the hall…

“Please”

Immediately he hid behind the corner of the L shaped hall out of pure instinct. That kind of sounded like… you?

“Please” you whimpered again.

This time there was no doubt it was in fact your voice.

“Can’t we do it in your room?” you asked, your voice interrupted by muffled moans.

“No I wanna take you right here” San responded, determined.

“But what if Mingi comes back from his shower?”

San smirked. That was exactly his intention but he just chuckled and brushed off the question.

“Also if you really didn’t want to do it here. You’d use the safe word, right baby?” San’s smirk grew bigger as you stayed silent. “Wanna use the safe word baby?”

“No…” you admitted half heartedly.

“That’s what I thought” he said brushing his tip against you.

San wanted to be caught. He couldn't explain it properly but recently he started thinking about maybe offering Mingi some kind of relief. Because he’s had that huge crush on you for so long it must be really troublesome for him, right? So this little show for him was kind of a way to blow some steam off for him. Yeah! That’s right! San was doing that out of the goodness of his heart, out of friendship! Because he cared oh so dearly about his friend and not because the idea of having an audience flipped a switch in him. A flip he’s been fantasizing about for a while now.

“Spread your legs” San whispered.

Mingi’s heart rattled against his ribs and rang in his ears. He held his chest as he didn’t even dare to breathe, not to mention move a single muscle.

“Babygirl” San started his lips pressed against the thin skin of your neck. “You’re already this wet for me”

His fingers brushed against your center, still clothed but already soaking wet.

“Were you touching yourself at the table again?”

You nodded shyly. You just couldn’t help getting incredibly horny every time you had a drink.

“Yes” you admitted in a shameful whisper.

“What a naughty girl. Passing the blush as an effect of the alcohol when in fact you're touching yourself under the table despite your boyfriend’s friends gathered all around you.” you whined. “Maybe it’s even exactly why you couldn’t resist the urge huh baby?”

Mingi bit his lip, trying his hardest not to gasp. To think that you busied your hands into your folds while he was eyeing your exposed chest. And to think maybe, just maybe, you exposed yourself on purpose?

“Please… Sannie…” you begged again.

Mingi was going crazy. This whole time he was just leaning his bare back on the wall, dampened locks of hair, trailing water down his body. He couldn’t see anything he didn’t dare to move a muscle but fuck did he want to have a peek. Before he could even realize the raging boner was back on. Forcefully pulling up the towel he had tied around his hips.

“I love it when you beg baby” San whispered, lips pressed to your blazing skin.

Me too.

Mingi thought so loud he was scared you would both hear him. One hand instinctively traveled to his engorged member, giving it a firm squeeze at the base while the other hand was pushing his flaming red and yellow hair back.

“Please… I can’t wait anymore” you said, granting your boyfriend’s wish.

“Please what, baby?” San teased again as he pushed your panties to the side. You hissed when you felt his tip brush against your bare pussy, digging your nails in his broad back.

“Cock!” you hurriedly replied, lust filling your mind. So eager you could barely form intelligible sentences “I want your cock” you demanded in a strangled whisper, hardly keeping your voice down.

Mingi had fought the idea of you against his own mind too many times today. He won at the dinner table and he won again in the shower but this battle… Knowing you there begging to be filled to the brim, exposed for anyone who might stumble across the sinful scene… He couldn’t fight that. He had to look. He had to see you.

So he dared. He dared to peek, just enough to have a look. Just one eye is all it took. And he saw…

He saw the both of you entangled into each other, both facing one another, your back pressed against the wall while San gripped your hips firmly with one hand and lifted one of your legs up with the other to grant himself access to your beautiful and soaked little pussy. He saw his friend’s smirk and eyebrow twitch as he gently pushed himself into your welcoming folds. But all this was only anecdotal. Because nothing, nothing! could come close to you. Mingi only had eyes -one eye in this case- for you.

He saw how your mouth went agape as you took him in, he saw how you arched your back and rested your head on the wall you were pressed up against. And he heard you trying your hardest not to make a noise and failing so miserably, much to his contentment.

That sound, that fucking sound. He will never forget.

The raspy sigh you produced, audible bliss dripping from your lips as you refused to close your eyes, taking in the exalted face of your boyfriend.

San spotted from the corner of his eyes the flaming red strands of hair peeking from the angle of the hall. It made him smirk, his little scheme had worked. It made him even more determined to put on a good show for his friend, determined to drag those beautiful sounds out of you until you would beg him to stop. And you could have sworn you felt him grow even bigger inside you.

Without a second thought San settled a pace that was especially designed for you. Deep and slow. Just enough to keep you on edge. With every roll of his hips into yours you felt every single inch of his length deliciously scraping your clenching walls, gripping him desperately.

“Fuckkk” you cried out, biting down on your lower lip.

“You like that baby?” San asked you, the evil twinkle of lust dancing in his eyes.

“Yesss” you sighed, barely holding yourself up on the only leg that was supporting you.

You gasped as he bottomed out again, this time staying there for a while. You instantly started to rock your hips into his, desperately clinging onto the friction.

“That’s right baby” San growled as his veiny hand left your side to tightly wrap around your narrow neck. “Fuck yourself on my cock”

And you were more than happy to oblige. You lost it at his words, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine, applying just the right amount of pressure to coerce you.

Unholy wet squelching noises bounced back on the walls of the narrow hall all the way to Mingi ears. His hands violently pumping up and down his cock, thick slimy precum coating his tip and being dragged with each movement along his shaft. It was so hard not to make any noise but he pulled himself together just so he could keep looking at you.

“Sannie Please… Fuck me harder” the last ounce of bashfullness had evaporated out of your body as the carnal sin was clouding your judgement. “Fuck me senseless” your tone was demanding. You just couldn’t bear it anymore. You wanted to cum. You need to cum.

Mingi can't believe his ears or his eyes or any of his senses as a matter of fact… To hear you say these words with so much drive, so much desire. To see you plead with those sultry eyes… If only he was the one right there between your legs right now. If only he was the one pumping his hot and dripping cock into you until completion. If only he was the one feeling your cunt clench and pulse around him.

“Your wish is my command, Princess” San whispered before he caught your other leg and lifted you up, flipping both your legs onto his shoulders and folding you in two against the wall. And he slid himself right back in. Where was his rightful place. You gasped, this position allowed him to go even deeper and tears started to cloud your vision as his tip so precisely hit on your sensitive spot. Both of your hips perfectly angled to fit inside each other.

“Fuck yessss… j-just like that” you whispered through gritted teeth. “Please don’t stop Sannie”. Your voices shaken with each of San’s violent thrusts. “Fuck I love your cock” you sobbed as your eyes lost their focused and your mind slipped in thick foggy haze. And San chuckled, his eyes leaving yours for a split second to briefly look at the flamboyant orange tuft of hair peeking from the corner of the hall.

Fortunately Mingi was way to focus on you to notice San had spotted him.

Mingi was about to burst but he was determined to cum with you. Picturing your twitching cunt in place of his gripping fist.

You were a couple of thrusts away from coming undone and San knew it. He knew everything about your body. He knew every micro expression, every sound, every queue.

“You’re gonna cum baby?” he asked, short of breath.

“Yessss” you whined, trying hard not to cum on the spot.

“Cum now. Cum on my cock right now” he ordered.

That was what you needed. In a split second you let go of the knot you’ve been desperately hounding on to and completely lose your sanity in an earth shattering orgasm that washes over your body.

Quickly followed by Mingi. Uncontrollably twitching and delivering what felt like gallons of cum in the towel, completely soiling it. Maybe even ruining it forever. It was so good, he never came like this. So good that an ever so audible groan of bliss slipped past his lips and into the world. Instantly he bit his lip and stopped breathing but it was too late.

San also let himself go, a smirk dancing on his lips as he happened to catch the shameful groan. You were unaware of why but that amount of cum was unprecedented and you attributed it to the thrill of the fear of getting caught. But San knew it was simply the joy and fulfillment of being a good friend.

IF U WANNA HELP ME PLEASE REBLOG WITHOUT USING THE COMMUNITY LABELS 🖤

a/n: what a ride dskfmkfmdkmfl. you liked it? you want part 2? SPAM MY COMMENTS AND ASKS AND REBLOGS BECAUSE I LOVE READING YOUR REACTIONS MY POOKIES <333 (a threesome in part 2? 👀)

sequel | ateez masterlist | navigation

taglist: @staytiny816 @onysmamas

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sexlapis · 4 months ago

Text

[◉°] … TOJI AND Y/N BEING A COUPLE FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT (PART 5) … 899k views

꩜ : actor!toji x gn!reader

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 (they are actress!reader)

sfw for the most part, fluff, crack, peeping toms & perverts (toji deals w them <3), cute babies, use of y/n

⤷ the way tojiyn is just real at this point…

a/n: thank you so much for 3000 followers that is literally crazy! thank you all sm for enjoying and supporting my fanfics🩷🩷. as a gift u all get more actor toji. i just missed him <33

_____= your name

masterlists

from the actor![character] series:

actor!toji masterlist

actor!nanami & actress!yn being a couple

actor!levi & gn!reader being a couple

꩜ first clip

posted on toji’s (mostly inactive) instagram, a clip of you with a little baby no more than a year old standing on your lap. you make funny, expressive faces as she giggles and mumbles in an adorable, pure manner. the pinnacle of innocence.

“look at that! who’s that, baby?” you ask the baby, referring to the person behind the camera.

you turn her around, making her look up. she points, her face beaming with a toothless smile.

“ahh!” she squeaks.

you giggle.“it’s toji!”

a huff is heard from behind the camera and a big hand comes and strokes the baby’s chubby cheeks. “hi princess.”

the clip ends there, but the reaction from the internet only begins.

@ynb11111gestfan

a baby??? wtf did i miss???!:!:!

@justalurkeracx0unt

YOU GUYS ADOPTED?????????

@gojosbl!ndfold

which one of you gave birth

@tojizbigfatbreederballzinmymouf

girldad toji? my biggest dreams have come true💕💕

⤷ @herbigdoeeyesss

YOUR NAME?????

it’s safe to say, everyone was confused about who this random baby was. so, you were the one to clear things up by posting a video on your story;

“i’m sorry for the confusion guys. yes, me and toji had a baby. toji had a very long labour and he worked so hard and gave birth to a little baby girl <3”

well, that cleared things up.

꩜ second clip

toji walks out of a elevator and is…carrying you in his arms. bridal style. with your bodyguards following close behind (not that you need bodyguards when toji is with you).

the man holding the camera asks toji, “why are you carrying them?”

instead, you respond with a shrug, “my feet hurt.”

toji doesn’t even react. he just walks down the corridor, carrying you like he does it every day.

꩜ third clip

shortly after you began filming for a minor role in a popular television series, there are rumours floating around of toji allegedly physically assaulting one of the members of staff on set.

of course, everyone has all kinds of theories of what happened, but many people are not surprised because, well…it’s toji. they are not shocked by this type of behaviour coming from him.

but then, all is revealed by TMZ in a short youtube video, being a oh so nosy individuals they are:

“we got leaked information about what happened on that set. apparently, the staff member had been secretly recording y/n in their caravan, even when they were getting dressed! disgusting, i know. it’s said that toji spotted them and ‘took’ matters into his own hands. and by that, i mean throwing hands. toji is now being accused of assault by said staff member. in my eyes,” the reporter throws his hands up, shrugging, “that freak got what was coming!”

after that, people are on toji’s side, praising him for what he did. but enough people believed his actions to be extreme and overly violent.

so he releases an apology for his actions in a video, in which it is very clear that he had just woken up and he was still in bed:

“hey everyone. i know just about everyone’s heard of what happened. i would just like everyone to know that…i don’t care,” he chuckles, “i really don’t give a shit. i would do it again if it had to. that piece of shit deserved what he got. i’m only sorry for not breaking his other arm.”

꩜ fourth clip

you and toji are on the red carpet in paris, being interviewed about an awards show and your time in the country.

“so, have you two seen any of the sights and attractions in paris?”

“uhhhmm, no not so much. we really wanted to but we’ve just been uhh, really, really-” you pause for a moment, a second too long as you look at toji, who is staring at you. even from this angle, toji is seen to be smirking and he winks at you.

you blink rapidly and turn back to the interviewer. “busy. yeah, we’ve been really busy.”

“that’s one way to put it.” toji chimes in.

a tojiyn truther favourite.

꩜ fifth clip

you and toji, wanting to raise money for charity, decided ti participate in the bake-off, a televised baking competition.

“okay!” you start, excited.

the excitement doesn’t last very long.

“what even is this [BLEEP]?”

“toji! don’t swear! they have to bleep that out!”

off you and toji go, baking in such a disorderly and chaotic fashion, even the other participants are looking at you sideways.

multiple bleeps are edited in due to toji’s creative language.

“phew!” you breathe out. “i think we’re making good time-”

“ten minutes left!” the host calls out.

“ten minutes!?” toji shouts.

“what? ten? we haven’t even started the buttercream yet! the cake hasn’t even cooled down! what!”

“move,” toji moves into your space, snatching the whisk and bowl of ingredients from you hands and begins stirring like an absolute mad man, “you cool off that [BLEEP] cake, i’ll make this! [BLEEP].”

you dash toward the window, plain cake in hand, and simply…stick the cake out of the window, hoping it will call down faster.

toji and you are stared at in complete and utter confusion.

after sloppily applying the buttercream to the cake, along with the toppings, you and toji are done just in time.

it is your time to present.

you and toji walk to the front, placing the cake in front of the hosts.

“hm,” the woman said, “presentation is messy.”

you and toji glance at each other.

they take a bite.

“oh,” the male judge hums, “not bad.”

“i think it’s quite tasty!” a judge with a british accent compliments. “well done to the both of you.

you and toji cheer silently and high five.

you both came in third place in that round.

go figure.

꩜ sixth clip

you and the cast members of “jujutsu kaisen” are at comic con for a fan Q&A. the place is packed full of fans!

“i…i have a ques-question for _____. I-” his voice cracks wildly and he clears his throat, causing a few giggles in the crowd.

he continues. “i-what-why-what-what do-how-” he sighs and covers his face with embarrassment.

a wave of laughter goes through the crowd, mocking the poor boy even further.

“it’s okay,” you coo to the fan, “i don’t bite.”

the audience laughs some more.

and the toji interrupts with his own comment of, “they sure do.”

you gasp. your head whips towards toji and the crowd erupts with laughter, whistles and hoots of teasing and encouragement.

the fan, now beet red, covers his face again. “oh my god.”

“great! toji look what you did!” you shout. “you broke him!”

a/n: new actor toji take it or leave it

#actor!toji #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji x self insert #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fushiguro x gender neutral reader #toji fluff #toji fushiguro fluff

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milla-frenchy · 5 months ago

Text

6 PM

4k6 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist Summary: Joel comes home earlier than expected, and catches you during a time alone Warnings: 18+ mdni. Established relationship, sex toy, mention of oral (f/m) and consensual somnophilia, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, mutual masturbation, fingering, dom!Joel, soft!Joel, intimate sex, feelings, piv, creampie, rimming, light spanking and biting, spit as lube, anal play, anal No age specified

a/n: same couple: 5 days collection, but fics can be read alone These two are becoming my favorites, chapter after chapter. It's kinda funny, when I think that I wanted to throw the first fic in the garbage after writing it, but Kate convinced me not to (I owe you 💕💕).

Anyway, I'm adding some depths to what was mostly pwp, originally. Well, this part is still full smut, but some details add to their backstory. I still intend to write a chapter about how they met and became that couple, but emotionally it's not that easy (I'm in love with them). Enough talking, I hope you'll enjoy ❤️

Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing and for stopping me from throwing my fics in the trash 😌💕💕 and @saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

The slight “buzz” is the only sound coming out of the bedroom.

That and the moans that sometimes escape your lips, as your second hand tightens around your breast. You play with the vibrator and your sensations, brushing it against your clit, then moving it away a little.

You think about Joel.

His hands, his lips. The way they have tasted every inch of your skin, so many times. The way he knows your body and how it responds to him. Not a single spot hasn’t been touched, kissed, licked by him.

You press the sex toy a little more against you, trying to feel the sensations you get when you're with Joel, even though you know it's impossible.

You think about his cock, when your saliva drools from his shaft to his balls, while you focus on the moans he can't hold back anymore.

“Shit, baby, yeah, just like that, keep goin’ a bit. Then I’ll fuck you, ok? Just wanna feel your lips on me a little more.”

The way you nod, not letting go of his cock, giving him what he wants and trying your best to drive him crazy. Sometimes he can't hold back and comes in your mouth with a groan. And when he opens his eyes and sees your little proud smirk of having him break, he growls "c’mere." Then grips your hips to make you straddle his face, and eats you as the sweetest revenge until you come on his tongue too.

You think about how your two bodies are made for each other, like two jigsaw puzzle pieces, whether it’s day or night, whether you’re awake or not.

He should be home in a few hours, but the heat in your crotch hasn’t left you all day, since this morning. When barely awake, he settled between your thighs, your pussy still dripping from the night, burying himself gently in your snoozy body, murmuring “good morning, baby” in your ear with his sleepy voice. His hair disheveled, his eyes barely open. He fucked you slowly, until you clenched on his shaft. He growled in your neck before adding more cum to your core, your fingers tightened on his biceps to keep him against you, while his hands were cupping your cheeks.

You think about all that, while using the vibrator against you. How you took a shower when you got home, put on some comfortable clothes, then went to the bedroom. You’ve been planning to read your book but the sheets still smelt of this morning and one of Joel’s shirts was lying on his pillow. You undressed, keeping only your panties on, and put on his t-shirt. You didn't even open the book. Your hand slid between your thighs and played with your pussy through the garment.

But it wasn’t enough. Your panties joined the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed, then your finger slipped easily between your dripping folds and over your clit. You came quickly, mechanically, but you needed more.

So you grabbed the vibrator from your nightstand drawer and placed it lightly against you after turning it on, not to overstimulate your swollen bud.

And now you’re moaning, whispering “Joel,” squeezing a breast over his shirt, before sliding your hand under the fabric and grabbing it roughly. Trying to replicate Joel’s gesture, even though his hand is way bigger than yours, stronger than yours. “Joel,” you whisper again, as you bring the toy closer to your most sensitive place.

“ ‘m here, sweetheart.”

You get startled and snap your eyes open that land directly on Joel, who’s leaning against the doorframe, his lustful gaze roaming your body. You turn off the sex toy and it gets quiet in the room.

“Keep going baby, don’t stop.”

“I… I can’t. I can’t if you’re watching me.”

“‘Course you can. Lemme see how beautiful you are when you make yourself come, right in front of me.” His voice is soft but firm. His gaze is intense, as always. His broad body, leaning against the bedroom door, is the perfect representation of a quiet strength and self confidence. He has all of it in him naturally, it exudes from him. You don’t need more to feel your limbs weaken and your pussy drooling onto the sheets.

Your hand relaxes a little on the vibrator and you release some pressure in your taut legs while you tell yourself that yeah, you can do it. That you’re safe with Joel, that he just wants you to feel good.

“Close your eyes, baby. And turn it on,” he adds, nodding at you, knowing that you need it to relax totally.

So you do as he says, without pressing it against you at first.

“Show me, baby. Spread your legs for me, and show me how you do it.”

Encouraged by his praise, you spread wider, feeling his heavy gaze on you and you press the vibrator against your clit. You moan, even though you are desperate for more, hungry to feel more. To feel him, his lips around your clit sucking on it, or his tongue pointing perfectly at it.

“Yeah, just like that, that’s my good girl. Making me so fuckin’ hard.”

“Fuck, Joel,” you pant. You feel warmth rising in your core, stronger, hotter than when you were alone in the bedroom.

You hear rustling of clothes, as he takes out his hard cock. You hear him spit, then his wrist slowly fucks his shaft. You hear him growl, while he strokes himself. And it’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever experienced. Touching yourself in front of a man, and it turns him on so much that he needs to touch himself too, and it makes him growl.

You come again, harder, as you listen to him, and you barely finish shaking when the bed lowers under his weight, and he takes the vibrator from your hand. He turns it off and throws it on the mattress.

“You’re such a bad baby girl. Couldn’t wait for me, huh?” he says above you, leaning down to smell your hair, then running his nose over your cheek and neck. He spreads your thighs with his hand, firmly, claiming his territory like a hungry beast in front of its prey. Eager to devour it. Prey who lets him reach what he wants, how he wants, to finally being touched by the body she has been thinking about all day.

He lays down between your thighs, and his hand cups your mound in a possessive way, as if he was taking back what was his, making you whine with desire. He doesn’t wait more, and two of his fingers dive into your core. You hold your breath, eyes fixed on him, as his dark gaze is on your lips, while his digits find their favorite place in the world. Your hands are lost in his curls, his neck, you already don’t really know where you’re touching him, just being needy to feel him.

“So fuckin’ wet. Just for me,” he groans, and you love that he doesn’t ask if it’s for him. He knows it is.

He pulls up the shirt to your neck to grab a breast. “Fucking yourself in my shirt? It's fucking hot, baby,” he breathes needily, sucking one of your nipples.

“Fuck me, Joel,” you whimper. “Please. I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

“Yeah? All day you wanted me to fuck you? This poor little pussy needed my cock?” he asks, as he nestles his fat, throbbing tip at your entrance, to answer your need. He waits for a few seconds though, time for your walls to get used to his thickness, a sensation that nothing else will ever be able to match. Your mind realizes that the room is no longer filled with the sound of his thick fingers pushing into your wet pussy, as if it mattered.

“I’ve been thinking about it all day, too,” he says, as he thrusts in slowly, making you moan against his ear, bodies rushing to finally get their fix. “Thought about ruining you, again and again,” he adds, nibbling your earlobe.

“Thought about your cunt wrapped around my cock,” his voice is needy, showing his eagerness to take more of you, his pants scraping the inside of your thighs indecently open for him.

“Thought about how perfect she’s always for me. So tight.” The growl comes from the depths of his chest, his shaft sliding into you.

“How you're mine.” He slips his arms under your shoulders, holding you against him. “You’re always so perfect for me, sweetheart.” He stops for two seconds, buried inside you. Just to hear your breathing stop, too.

You let out a moan. Unable to do anything else, to formulate words that would be totally incoherent anyway. You let him use your body as he pleases, because he acts exactly how you need him to.

“See what you’re doin’ to me, baby? I left the meeting. We were supposed to go to a restaurant with a client but I let Tommy take care of it.”

“Y… yeah?”

“Yeah. Said to Tommy I needed to go home.

He told me to have a good night, but he knew what I was about to do to you.”

“What… what were you about to do to me?”

“Wreck you. Make you clench on my cock.” He thrusts faster now, but still just as deep. His breathing is panting.

“Oh god… fuck, that’s good, Joel. Don’t stop,” you add, even if you know he won’t.

“Make you milk it, to the last drop. Fuck… You’re squeezin’ me so goddamn hard. You’re gonna milk my cock, baby? Gonna be a good girl for me?”

“Yes… yes, I’m your good girl, Joel.”

“Yes you are. I want you to come, baby. Come on my fuckin’ dick. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah… Keep fucking me, Joel. Just like that. Want you to fill me up, as soon as I come.”

“Fuckin’ dirty girl. So perfect. Come on, sweetheart, soak me.”

“Shit, oh shit, Joel. I’m…” you whine, just before your climax overwhelms you. It’s like your soul is leaving your body. You think that no man has ever managed to make you come like this, just with his shaft in you. His cock tirelessly brushing the right spot, in the right way. His tip stopping just where it has to, creating a mixture of pleasure and light pain, animal.

“Yeah baby. Just like that, fuck…” His grunts turn into moans. You love hearing him become so vulnerable, just for you. Your feet are crossed over his back as your pelvis keeps jerking him off, feeling him twitch inside you, over and over, until his body relaxes, balls empty and your cunt full.

He kisses you, and his mouth travels a path from your lips to one of your nipples which he takes in his mouth, sucking on it like a man who can't get enough. You squeeze his cock again at the sensation. He smiles, lightly nibbling your nipple.

“I’m not done with you for tonight,” he says.

“I hope so. I need...”

“What do you need, sweetheart?” he asks, sucking on your nipple.

“Need more. I need to feel you everywhere,” you answer, feeling the heat reaching your cheeks.

He straightens up towards you, still buried in your warmth. You vaguely feel him twitch in your core.

“Greedy, filthy girl. Always damn perfect.” He pulls out and you feel his cum dripping from your pussy. He removes his shirt from you and manhandles you so that you’re kneeling, and he presses the back of your neck to let your cheek rest on the pillow. He made it all so quickly that you barely realized you were now naked, ass in the air.

And now he’s taking his time, savoring this vision of you. His hand runs down your back, and makes you shiver, until his fingers brush your ass.

“Everywhere, huh?”

“Yes,” you almost beg. He stands up from the bed and removes his clothes then comes back behind you. He spreads your ass cheeks and looks down, from your glistening pussy to your tight ring, totally offered to him. He spits on your ass and brushes your ring with his thumb, making you whine again.

“Gonna make me fuckin’ hard again, with that ass, Jesus... Tell me what you want, baby. I need to hear it.”

“Want you to lick it,” you stammer. “Please.”

“Mmm... And then?”

“Want you to fuck it.”

“Christ… Yeah, I’m gonna give you what you want. But I’m gonna fuck you with my cum, first. Want it where it belongs,” he says, pushing his load back in your core, then pumping your pussy with two fingers. He keeps fucking you with his digits as his tongue comes to lap at your ring. You're already moaning, not only because of his tongue and fingers, but thinking that some of his cum has leaked all the way out here, and that he's tasting himself as much as he's tasting you.

“That ass needs to be fucked, is that right?” he asks, nibbling the tender flesh of it, before adding “that tiny, little asshole wants to be spread by my fat cock?” and biting a little harder.

“Shit…. fuck Joel!”

His hand falls on your ass cheek, right where his teeth sink in lightly, making you whimper.

“Answer me, sweetheart.”

“Fuck! yes, yes! Need it.”

“Dirty girl,” he says as he leans down again. Licking your ring, pressing his tongue against your entrance in an attempt to open it. Over and over. Until it softens.

“I don't know if I prefer to eat your pussy or your ass. Both are so fuckin’ good,” he says, before diving in again, pressing his nose against the crack of your ass.

“Oh fuck, your damn mouth,” you whine, ass in the air, pushing it as far as possible towards his mouth.

“You love it,” he chuckles, making you hum in the pillow. You do love it. His dirty talk made you see stars as soon as he started to use it on you. Still sometimes makes you choke on his cock.

“You’re gonna take it? You’re gonna take my cock like a good girl?”

“Yes,” you whine pathetically.

He grabs his cock tightly in his hand, jerks it a couple of times. It twitches under his fingers, and points towards your entrance, as if it has a will of its own.

“Fuck baby… I'm so hard.”

He spreads your ass cheeks again, unable to resist the sight of your two holes. He feels, hears himself moan. Afraid to cum already, just with this view he has of you.

“Please, Joel…”

“Yeah, just… gimme a minute baby, please? I’m gonna fucking shoot my load in the sheets if you keep begging me like that.”

He smiles when he hears you groan. “My needy, precious girl,” he replies almost automatically, while his mind goes blank. He doesn’t think, lets his instincts guide him, and pushes his cock into your dripping pussy, his thumb breaking through the barrier of your ring.

“Oh fuck,” you whine.

“Yeah? You love that?” he asks, as his hips thrust into you. His other hand is hooked around your hip, using it as leverage. His eyes are glued to your ass and his thumb buried up to the knuckle.

“I still wonder how your ass manages to take my cock,” he asks, trying to regain his wits and his breathing, even though he’s not sure if talking about your ass is the right way to do it. He slows his pace and removes his thumb just long enough to spit there and watch his saliva flow down it.

“Fuck,” he growls, as he licks two of his fingers and then pushes one into your ass, the other just pressing against your entrance. He keeps fucking your pussy and works your ring. Your fist is clenched in the pillow, knowing that in a few minutes he will be thrusting into your other hole. You wait for it and it obsesses you. How you can take him is a mystery to you too. Since the first time he fucked you like this, when you asked him to, you didn’t understand what was happening. This need to feel him everywhere, the way your body wanted to be his. You assumed that was why it was possible, almost so easily. The pain not so strong, and the desire so heady in your mind that you were able to welcome him physically.

His two fingers slide in now, and he spits steadily at your opening, while he slowly keeps fucking your cunt. So slowly. Focused on your ass. Marveling at the sight of you tightening around his fingers, as your pelvis strains as hard as it can towards his digits. His mind is definitely lost now- in his desire, and in your croons.

“Joel…” his name falls from your lips, half moaned, half whispered. He doesn’t answer, keeps the same pace. You manage to smile, thinking he’s already on ground 0 looking at your ass, then repeat a little louder, “Joel.”

“Yeah?” he answers finally, slowing down and removing his fingers, caressing the curve of your buttock. He grabs your hips with his hands, fully buried in your cunt.

“I want you to fuck me, baby. I need you there. Please.”

“Shit. Ok, ok. I don’t wanna hurt you, need to prepare you properly,” he says, as he leans forward, his chest surrounding your back, and kisses the back of your neck.

“You won’t hurt me, Joel,” you breathe. “I’m ready.” He never hurts you, and will never. You know it, as he should.

He kisses your back, says “ok” against your skin. Licks you one last time, from your pussy to your ring, pressing his tongue against it again, making you shiver at the sensation.

He hesitates when he grabs your hips, he doesn’t really know why. You’ve taken him here dozens of times. But right now, he feels invaded by an emotion that grips him, even though you know each other perfectly.

He remembers when you met. Heart broken, your trust in men destroyed. How you rebuilt it, both of you, patiently. And he’s moved by your total surrender, by the way you trust him. He thinks that you’re the best thing that ever happened to him. He tries to focus while his cock flows with precum, but he’s lost in his thoughts.

“Joel? Are you ok?” you finally say, feeling him static. He’s so different from usual, not… feral. He clears his throat before answering “yeah… huh… Yeah, sorry, baby. You’re just… you’re so beautiful and I love you so much. I’m sorry.”

He takes his cock in his hand and is about to position himself at your back door when you straighten on your hands and turn your head to look at him over your shoulder. Offering him the most beautiful of your smiles, which makes him melt even more.

“I love you too.”

You look at him, and god, he’s so beautiful. A few beads of sweat are dripping from his curls and his cheeks are slightly red. He seems so vulnerable at this moment. Your gaze falls down on his shoulders and chest. His biceps are tense, as he grips your hips and presses himself against you, his hard cock molding perfectly into the crack of your ass.

“You won’t hurt me,” you repeat. Nodding at him as he did about the vibrator.

“Fuck… you’re making me lose my damn mind. Come here, sweetheart”, he says, making you lay on your back. He settles between your thighs and caresses your cheek, as his lips land on yours. Then he presses his cock softly against your ring.

“I wanna look at your pretty face while I fuck your ass, baby,” he says, spreading your thighs with his knee, then grabing one of them with his hand to put it on his back. You do the same with the other, open, offered, and he pushes in slowly. Eyes fixed on you. You close yours as you feel him slide into you and he brushes your cheek with his thumb.

“Look at me, sweetheart. Lemme see you. Lemme see what you feel.”

He’s so sweet you could burst into tears. So perfect. So you nod, ready to give him what he needs. And he sinks in, slowly, and like always you feel like you’re almost suffocating, for two seconds. Your brows furrow, as his do. He caresses your cheek, and the sensation disappears, replaced by the pleasure of feeling him there, that it seems so natural, that he’s made for you. You think about all of this, your eyes fixed on his, and he’s lost in yours.

Until he comes to his senses, a little, and leans down to kiss you. His lips press against yours, and you feel him moan into your mouth. You nibble his lip before licking it with the tip of your tongue and he chuckles. He kisses you again, and it gets messier. His tongue slides between your lips and searches for yours, swirling against it. Your salivas mix together, while he rocks his cock fully inside you. He straightens up slightly and looks at you, before pressing his forehead against yours. “Damn, baby…” he breathes.

You hold him close. Tighten your legs around his waist, your arms around his shoulders. You freeze for a moment, as if you want to mark this moment in your mind forever.

“Fuck,” he says.

“I know, baby,” you reply. “But, can you move for me? It feels like you’re gonna tear me apart soon.”

He chuckles again, then slowly pulls out, leaving just his tip inside you. Pushes back in, letting out another “fuck.”

He takes a slow, steady pace, as you stroke his cheek and then tuck a strand of hair back into place.

“What are you doin’ to me sweetheart, mmm? Wanted to fuck you all night. To wreck you, just like you love it. But you're the one wreckin’ me.”

“Don’t I do it every time,” you tell him mischievously.

He laughs then whines playfully “You’re so right. I’m the victim here.”

It's one of your favorite things about Joel. Laughing when you fuck. Laughing even when he fucks your there.

He slides in and out, tirelessly, and his crotch rubs against your clit.

“And you can still fuck me all night, by the way.”

“Is that right?” He smiles, but you see him twitch. As if his emotions were taking over him again. “You’re mine, he pants. “All…fuck…fuckin’ mine.”

“I'm yours,” you reply, eyes fixed on him. “You're the best thing that happened to me, Joel.”

He kisses you again, as he keeps sinking in. You cup his cheeks in your hands to look at him, and he kisses your wrist.

“It's good, Joel. To feel you like that. So softly.” You feel yourself melting and put your hand on his heart. To see if he feels the same, even though his eyes don't lie, never.

“You're gonna make me come,” you whisper. “You feel it?”

“Yeah,” he smiles softly. He's so beautiful. So protective, so careful. Even when he's rough, he is. But right now, you feel like he's made of glass, ready to explode into a thousand pieces. A fragile material, hidden under a hard, reliable, calloused layer. Shaped over the years. Whose core he's let you see, step by step.

And his thick layer is chipped, ripped open, just for you. Thanks to your senses, your sensations, your feelings, to both of you. And even if he is inside you, in your most intimate place, you feel that his fragility is exposed, and that he willingly offers it to you. Because he is safe with you. You think that there is nothing more erotic than a man who shows all his rough edges, all his cracks.

He's still thrusting in, slowly. You know he's trying not to come, not right away. Not before you do.

“Sweetheart, damn…you know how much I love to fuck you rough,” he murmurs, his hips and shoulders thrusting towards you. “But this. This is… so special. To feel you like this, and facing you. Being in you there, so slowly, and looking at you.”

“I know. I never felt something like this before.”

His lower belly still rubs against you, every time his shaft pushes in and out. He’s so big inside you. So… in his place. Your moans get louder as you feel your orgasm building. From afar. Like a ball of heat that keeps growing inside you. Your pelvis moves slightly more too, perfectly accompanying his movements. You squeeze your ankles together behind his back.

“You’re gonna fill me, baby?” you ask, keeping him against you, your hand on the back of his neck, his nose buried in yours.

“Shit… don’t say that. I’m already about to combust.” His voice is muffled, breathless, against your skin.

“I wanna feel you spurt in me. Right there. Want you to fill my ass.” You keep talking, because it turns you on. You want to come at the same time as him. You want the intimacy to continue and reach its peak until you both come. You want to lose your senses in his arms, at the same time as he loses them in yours.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… you… brat.” He groans, moans, a mixture of all of that, and your eyes roll into the back of your skull.

“Please I need you to come sweetheart… oh fuck I’m gonna… I’m gonna…. fuck, baby…” he explodes in you, sending shots of cum deep inside you, and his jerks against you are the last push you need. You pulse, clench on him, your pussy empty and your ass full. “Oh fuck”, he growls again, feeling how hard you’re squeezing his shaft. He nibbles at your shoulder as your limbs go limp. His body leans against yours, and he’s out of breath as you slowly stop shaking.

He doesn’t move, until he manages to regain his senses, his breathing, and everything that brings him back to earth, to the present moment. Then he straightens his torso, relieving you of his weight even if it feels like a weighted blanket, reassuring.

“Are you ok?” he asks, hands on your cheeks as he pulls out, making you feel desperately empty. His cum leaks out and you miss him already.

“Sweetheart?” His thumb brushes your cheek.

“Yeah… Yes,” you breathe. “Let me just… remember my name. And yours,” you smile, eyes still closed.

“You, little minx,” he laughs, grabs your waist and kisses your neck, and you wrap your arms around him again. You laugh too. You feel good.

“Damn, what was that? It was so intense, sweetheart.” He shifts and lies down facing you, pulling you towards him so that you’re facing each other.

“It was perfect,” you reply, nestling in his arms, in the middle of his chest, where nothing can reach you.

“Are you trying to bewitch me? Cause it’s… kinda working.”

You lift your head to look at him, and say, “You’re such a softie,” giggling.

He looks fakely outraged, before answering “oh yeah? You won’t be allowed to whine when this softie will make you use your safe word, next time he fucks you.”

“Mmm… remember me, when did I use it?”

He rolls his eyes exaggeratedly without answering.

“That’s right. Never,” you answer before kissing his collar bone.

He takes you in his arms and laughs, rolling you over so that you’re lying on him and kisses you.

“Come take a shower with me. Wanna take care of you.”

“Softie,” you taunt him, giving him your most mischievous smile.

Same couple: 5 days collection

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