#totally not ready for the love line but bring it on!!

[leerang]

See? You clean up nice.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Stray Kids & Their Favorite Part of Their Chubby Gf's Body ♡

♡ A/N: I wrote this for all of my chubby/plus size/fluffy Stays out there who might be in need of some spicy body worship and a little reminder that you're a fucking baddie worthy of being desired. K, love you, byeee.

♡ Pairing: ot8!stray kids x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: fluff/smut

♡ Word Count: 2.2k-ish total

♡ Warnings: reader's plus size sooo obvi descriptions of chubby bodies, body worship, fingering, penetrative sex, a lil manhandling, tit sucking, oral sex (m&f receiving), spanking, and that's all there is, loves.

♡ Bang Chan ♡

Something Chan gets teased about a lot is how he always manages to find an excuse to have you in his arms. If it’s an arm casually thrown around your waist while you’re waiting in line at the coffee shop or a full on bear hug when you’re sitting on his lap at the studio, he craves the comfort of having your body close to his. He does it even more when he’s stressed or has had a particularly long day. Chan will bring you in close, squeezing you tight, giving special attention to the squishing your love handles. You always giggle, telling him not to play with your rolls. You swear you’ll get rid of them one day and Chan gets all grumpy every single time. They’re a part of you. He can’t imagine you without them. Actually, he doesn’t want to. It’s so relaxing to squeeze them when he’s holding you close, letting the annoyances of the day melt away in your presence. Sometimes that’s not enough though and he needs some extra stress relief which you’re always more than pleased to offer him. He finds it super sexy when you choose to take the lead, climbing on top and riding him at a slow sensual pace while his hands are free to roam wherever they wish. Still, they always find their way back to your love handles, gripping them to bounce you in his lap at whatever speed he desires. And when you're dangerously close to your high, making the prettiest noises as you're ready to gush all over his length, he can hold onto them to keep you right where he wants you, totally at his mercy, unable to do anything else besides moan and whine in his grip.

♡ Changbin ♡

Changbin’s the strongest man you know—one glance at those heavenly muscles makes it impossible to question that fact—but even the strongest men have weaknesses and one of his happens to be your thighs. If you ever want to see this man blush all you need to do is show up to one of your dates in a skirt just short enough that he can get a peek at your soft thighs kissing. He’ll barely pay attention to his meal, preoccupied instead with how your thighs rub together when you walk over to the table or how they seem even thicker when you take your seat, the fabric of your skirt riding up as you settle in. Being the gentleman that he is, he wouldn’t dare lay a finger on you when you’re out in public but once you’re in the car? That’s a different story entirely. It’s one hand on the steering wheel and the other snug between your thighs all the way home. He’ll take his time massaging the plump flesh, occasionally letting his fingers drift up to tease you through your panties. By the time you get home you’ll be soaking wet, desperate for the teasing to come to an end, but Changbin won’t be in a rush. Changbin will press you up against anything—the wall, the couch, the kitchen counter—taking as long as he wants to kiss and lick your thighs until even he can’t take it anymore and he’s tucking your panties aside to taste your juices. There’s truly nothing like the way your thighs shake when his tongue’s inside of you.

♡ Seungmin ♡

Before meeting you stretch marks weren’t something that Seungmin cared about one way or another. He knew that people got them from gaining weight or losing it. It was as simple as that. Of course he knew that there were people who felt insecure about them but it seemed so silly to him that anyone would feel bad about something so insignificant. Meeting you didn’t change that. He still sees no reason to be insecure about them. What did change was his view of them as insignificant. After seeing you naked for the first time he fell in love with them, finding beauty in every single stretch mark on your body. If you’re together and your stretch marks happen to peek out of your clothes he wouldn’t dare tell you to put them away. Instead he’ll take that as an excuse to trace them with his fingertips, following them along the curves of your body. He’s so obsessed that he notices new ones before you do. Not that he’d ever admit that. Seungmin likes to pretend that his fascination isn’t as intense as it is when both of you know the truth. He can play up the indifferent act all he wants but nothing can hide how drawn he is to them. You can literally be riding his face, his eyes too blurred and glossy from being pussy drunk to even see, and his fingers will chart their course right to your stretch marks. It always makes you wetter to be silently praised like that and that’s how Seungmin likes it. You’re so much more delicious when you’re high off of praise.

♡ Hyunjin ♡

To say that Hyunjin’s obsessed with your silhouette would be the understatement of the century. The contours of your body are pure art to him. He could spend all day admiring them. The few times you’ve actually caught him staring are nothing compared to how much he’s actually done it. You don’t even have to be doing anything remotely sexual for this man to get hypnotized. The simple act of you existing in your body is enough to test his impulse control and he fails every single time. It doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the night, he can’t resist the temptation to feel the warmth of your body beneath his touch. Hyunjin likes to cuddle up behind you, gently pushing your shirt up to let his hand rest against your side for a little bit before his palms are riding the soft hills of your figure. He starts out slow, careful not to wake you, but then you let out those cute, hushed moans in your sleep and it makes him feral. By the time he’s done devouring you with his touch you’re half awake, mindlessly pressing yourself back against his hard cock as he sweetly kisses your neck, his fingers slipping into your panties to feel how wet you’ve gotten without even knowing it. The shape of you is such a beautiful sight to see, especially with all the ways you twist when you’re coming undone around his fingers. And that's never the end of things. How could it be when you always get him so hard and there's so many positions left to put you in?

♡ I.N ♡

If you check Jeongin’s phone he probably has as many pictures of you as he does of himself which is saying a lot for a guy whose job basically requires him to take a million selfies a day. Jeongin treasures the photos he has of the two of you together but his favorites are the ones that are just you so that he can dedicate all of his attention to drooling over how pretty you are. Your face has always been the center of everything for him and he can’t get enough of it. Your eyes, your nose, your lips. Don’t even get him started on your cute little chin and your chubby cheeks. If it’s cold out he races to warm your cheeks with his palms. When he kisses you he never misses the opportunity to cup your face, softly stroking your cheek as his lips move against yours. It isn’t a rare occurrence for him to come out of nowhere, pinching your cheeks and telling you what a cutie you are. It isn’t always about you being cute though. Your face is as seductive as it is adorable and he’d give anything to have your sexier expressions immortalized on his phone. Since that’s just not safe to do—he’d hate to accidentally send that to the group chat—he just has to cherish those moments when he can witness it in real time. It should be illegal to look so good with your lips wrapped around his cock, your cheeks even fluffier all filled up with his cum. Don’t even get him started on what it’s like to see you hit your high. Your face flush with heat, your eyes sparkling with tears, your walls spasming wildly around his cock, his fingers, his tongue, or even your favorite toy. You look like an angel. A sexy little fucked out angel but an angel all the same.

♡ Han ♡

If your body had a fandom, Han's bias would be your boobs. It’s been clear since day one that he’s head over heels for them. You have gorgeous eyes, the prettiest he’s ever seen, but he can’t help how his gaze tends to drift below your neckline to those soft, bouncy breasts resting on your chest. Sometimes he’ll hug you from behind, wrapping his arms around you so that your boobs are propped up by his forearms. Other times he’ll take the not so subtle approach of scooping them into his hands, gently kneading them to feel their weight in his palms. When it’s time to go shopping for bras he’ll be right there, eager to help you pick one out and more than willing to pay for whichever one you want. His favorites are the pretty laced ones that bring your tits together to make for the most succulent cleavage he’s ever seen in his life. As much as he loves a good bra, he’ll take you without one any day of the week. Late nights trapped in studio sessions are always made easier when he knows he’ll stumble through the door of your shared apartment to find you already changed into a pair of his sweatpants and a thin crop top that lets your nipples show through. No matter how exhausted he is, the sight of you innocently skipping around the house without a bra gives him more than enough energy to get you out of that crop top and spend all night French kissing your sensitive nipples. He gets so needy for you, on the verge of whining as his tongue swirls around your bud, his cock straining against his pants. He could cum from this alone without ever having to be inside of you but it’s so much better when he is.

♡ Felix ♡

If you ever want to see Felix get all pouty, say literally anything negative about your belly. He’s super protective of you in general, constantly showering you in reassuring words about your body, but your belly’s the cutest thing in the world to him and there’s no slander allowed. If you’re rocking a dress and he finds out that you’re wearing shapewear or tights to smooth yourself out he’ll for sure find a way around them. Nothing stops your man from squishing his girl’s belly, not even you. It gets to the point that you don’t even bother anymore. You just let your belly take whatever shape it wishes and Felix eats it up every single time. He’s so down bad for it that he holds onto it when he’s going to sleep. Some mornings you even wake up to him dozing away with his head resting on your belly and his arms around your waist. Any attempts to pull him off are useless. He’ll only hold you tighter, grumbling in protest as he nuzzles your shirt up to kiss your bare skin. At this point you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve been late to work because Felix got carried away praising you with his lips and the situation escalated to sleepy morning sex that left you pinned beneath him, his name the first thing to leave your lips at the crack of dawn. There's so much about you to enjoy—the slickness of your walls, how hot you sound moaning in his ear—but he always has to steal a few glances of how beautifully your belly jiggles when he bottoms out.

♡ Lee Know ♡

Meeting Minho through mutual friends meant that you’d already heard a lot about him before you started dating. This included the rumors that Minho couldn’t get enough of a nice ass once he saw one. Naturally you laughed off that information, assuming that his friends must’ve been exaggerating for the sake of a joke. As it turns out, they weren’t exaggerating at all. In fact, everything they said would happen has happened. Minho worships every part of you but your ass gets special treatment for sure. If you’re around other people or not, his intrusive thoughts are always winning. It’s like a compulsion. He has to at least pat it or give it a light slap to feel it jiggle. In his defense, you do have an ass beyond worth worshipping. It’s gorgeous in sweatpants, in shorts, in panties, or in nothing at all. That last one’s his preferred option though and he won’t even try to deny it. No matter how delicious your plush ass looks in some lace panties, it’ll never beat the perfection of seeing you without them. And when you let him bend you over to spank you as hard as he wants? This man doesn’t know what to do with himself. He can only keep it together for so long before he’s easing his cock into you to feel how every slap has you trembling, the vibrations traveling through your body while you're just dripping down his length. You're usually a bit sore after but it's totally worth it for something that feels so good. Plus Minho always kisses it better.

[acesofspadess]

Track Walk

landoscar x content creator!reader

part 1 // part 2 // part 3

series summary: You were invited to the Miami GP for your Track Walk series on social media, what follows after you run into a certain Papaya boy, no one could prepare you for...

series warnings: cursing, angst, smut, making out, mentions of people you may not like, mmf, threesome/throuple, if there is more let me know... ;)

a/n: this a long 4 part series, but the chapters will be released daily!! also... there is no hate to anyone mention in this story, it is a work of fiction and any hate towards the characters/people will be deleted.

Miami 2024 

“Hello lovely F1 fans!” You said to the camera you were holding quite close to your face, “We’ve got a bit of a different setting today, because we are at the…” You took the camera away from your face to show the full setting, “Miami GP!”

You were a small F1 content creator who had become known for your at home ‘track-walks’. Every Thursday you would walk around your neighbourhood or get on the treadmill and walk the length of the race circuit for the weekend.

“This is my first ever GP, as you all know, and I just can’t explain to you all how excited I am. A big thank you to Liquid IV for sponsoring this trip, and this video. We are starting at the P1 box, because obviously. We’ve got a total of 5.4 kilometers to walk, so let's get to it.”

Throughout the walk you filmed information on the track, the city, the race, and even some snippets of fans who happened to know who you were.You were doing a light run when at one point in the video you saw a group of papaya and flipped the camera at them and slowed to a light jog, “I think those are our papaya boys, if I’m not mistaken.” You whispered into the mic. As you jogged past them you looked up and saw it was just Lando with some of his team. 

“Good luck this weekend.” You called out as you surpassed them. “Cheers!” Lando called out with a small smile. You smiled back and continued with your jog and video. “Meeting Lando Norris, can check that off the bucket list.” You laughed softly to the camera. When you made it back to the P1 box you started to end the video. “Well that was so much fun, thank you again to Liquid IV for bringing me out here. Cheers to a hopefully amazing weekend.”

An amazing weekend it was indeed. That Sunday you watched Lando Norris get his maiden win. It was safe to say you were crying in the VIP box as he crossed the line. That night you went back to the hotel with endless happiness, your life couldn’t get any better. Or so you thought.

You woke up that morning to your phone buzzing relentlessly. Every two seconds it felt like someone was liking, commenting, and following you. You sat up in shock logging into tiktok to see that your most recent track walk video had jumped from a few thousand views and likes, to millions of each, and your follower count was soaring as well.

You went through some of the comments laughing at them saying this was your first grand prix and it was the best one ever. Some said you wishing him luck was the reason he won and you replied to those comments teasingly.

It was a few hours later when you were getting ready to head back home that you saw the best notifications. 

Lando Norris liked your video

Lando Norris commented on your video

You were thoroughly freaking out. You opened tiktok for the hundredth time that day to see if your eyes were deceiving you, they were not.

Lando Norris: "Maybe this was my lucky charm. Thanks for the good vibes! 🧡"

You screamed in the comfort of your hotel room as you read it, replying back.

“I’ll need to come to a lot more races this season if this is the outcome. Congratulations! 🧡”

Hungary 2024

A few weeks had passed since Miami and everything that came with it. You still continued on your content journey with track walks and other videos with your new following. “Hello lovely F1 fans, old and new. We are here with another special edition track walk!” You cheered showing your surroundings. “I’ve been doing some overtime and made my way to the Hungaroring, so let’s go on a walk…” 

The walk itself went as normal, shared some info, showed the surroundings, and made it seem like a facetime time call. It was almost comical how when you were walking off the track you actually bumped into someone, that someone being Oscar Piastri. “I’m so sorry, I was not paying any attention.” You apologised immediately. He just chuckled, waving you off. “Don’t worry about it. Making a video?” He said looking at the camera. You nodded shyly. “Yeah another track walk.” He nodded at the information, slowly getting awkward. “Well, in true fashion. Good luck this weekend.” You bid and he thanked you with a chuckle.

Once again, it was a Mclaren win. This time, it was for Oscar. You were starting to go a little crazy. How was it that everytime you came to a race McLaren won? Again your video blew up, and like clock work, Oscar commented.

Oscar Piastri liked your video

Oscar Piastri commented on your video

You opened the video and tapped on the comments to see what he had put…

Oscar Piastri: Guess I owe you a huge thank you for the good luck wishes. Let's see if this works every time!”

You giggled lightly at the comment before writing a reply back…

“I’d go to every race if I could! Congratulations !!!”

Zandvoort 2024

Over the summer break you worked endlessly on your upcoming finals for your graduation in December. You were missing F1, and needed your fix. In a last ditch attempt at getting your best friend to come with you, you ended up back in Zandvoort.  “Hello F1 friends! We are here in Zandvoort, home of Max Verstappen. We’ve got lots of orange here so I’m just going to say everyone is in papaya.” 

There was no meeting on track this go around, but that night just as you were getting ready to call it, you got a DM from McLaren. You thought it was just a community thing and glanced at it, but when you saw your name, you sat up quickly. You opened it with shaky hands and read the message:

“Hey Y/N!! Hope you're enjoying your weekend in Zandvoort so far! You’ve got a name here in McLaren and we want to invite you to spend the rest of the weekend with the team in the garage! If you send us a photo of yourself, we can get you your passes by morning! Just give us a call when you get there and let us take care of everything else.” 

It was safe to say you might be receiving a noise complaint from your neighbours. Immediately you grabbed your camera and turned it on. “Hi friends, I’m shaking right now,” you laughed in shock. “McLaren just invited me to their garage this weekend. What the fuck?!” You showed the camera your phone where the message was still up. “Your girl is going to the McLaren garage, which means vlog time.”

You cut the video there and replied to McLaren with immense gratitude and a photo.

Walking up to the paddock entrance you had phoned McLaren and let them know you were walking up. You saw someone in Papaya and they waved at you enthusiastically. She passed you your passes over the barrier so that you could scan in. “This is crazy.” You said while she laughed. “I run all the social media accounts, and when I saw your videos I just had to pull some strings for you. You’re genuine, we like that at McLaren.” She told you honestly and you smiled bashfully. “Thank you, that means a lot.”

She then gave you a run through of everything happening in the garage, in the hub, and in the paddock revolving McLaren. The paddock wasn’t new to you, but this whole experience was strange to you. “And then you have a scooter to get around as well. Just don’t hit anyone because papaya is an easy colour to notice.” You laughed with her knowing how true it was. “I’ll do my best.”

You bounced between sides all morning, watching the teams set up the car for Lando and Oscar. You loved both drivers equally, you would never be able to choose one. You were on Lando’s side not paying much attention to your surroundings when two bodies stood in front of you. You looked up to get out of the way when you saw Oscar and Lando. “Following us now?” Lando asked with a smile. “I should ask you the same thing.” You shot back and Oscar chuckled. “They told us this morning you would be here for the rest of the weekend. It’s nice to see you.” Lando nodded in agreement and smiled happily. “It was a last minute decision to come,” you told them, “and then I got invited into the garage, it’s definitely going to be a good weekend.” The three of you laughed softly knowing the hidden meaning. “Well I’m certainly looking forward to a win this weekend.” Oscar shared. “She was my lucky charm first.” Lando pointed out. “Don’t fight!” You laughed, “I’ll be cheering the both of you on, see?” You took off your hat to show the underside of the brim. Each side had a number on it. “I stitched two of them together.” You informed. “That’s actually really cool.” Oscar said, taking the hat for a closer look.

“Your nails! Osc look at them.” Lando said taking your hands in his and showing off your nails, one hand was dedicated to Lando and his famous helmet design, and the other side was Oscars helmet design with a croissant on the ring finger. “Very funny.” He said when he saw it. “It was this or a cat.” You shrugged and Lando laughed as Oscar shook his head.

“Boys!” The two drivers looked behind them to see the clock counting down. “I will not be the reason you two don’t win this weekend so do go.” You pushed them lightly. “Thank you for coming, we’ll chat again later.” Lando said, going in for a hug. “Of course, go top both practices.” You cheered as Oscar also gave you a hug before the both of them went to their respective sides of the garage.

f1gossipofficial 

liked by user4 and others

f1gossipofficial Who’s that? Today before FP1 both McLaren drivers were seen talking and hugging with someone in their garage. In a different view, we can see that the person is content creator Y/N L/N who has gone viral for being the duo’s ‘good luck charm’. The three seem to be very cosy considering they’ve never officially met. 

view comments

user4 THAT SHOULD BE ME

user5 she posted a mini vlog on her tiktok this morning! She said McLaren dm’ed her and asked for her to be in the garage

User9 awwe that’s so sweet of McLaren to do for her 

user6 something about her doesn’t seem right

user7 don’t start, she’s one of the nicest people I’ve seen on tiktok

user8 another McLaren win is incoming

The following two days of the weekend were spent filming and nerding out over being in the garage. Lando and Oscar of course got super busy over the following two days, but they still managed to give you a wave when they could. Watching the race from the garage and hearing the live feed, watching the pit crew get ready for the pit stops, the actual pit stops, it was beyond magical for you. And without fail, one of the boys won, this time in Lando’s favor by 20 seconds.

You got to celebrate with the team, some of them recognising you and saying you needed to be here more often. Days like this were what you dreamed for. In between the chaos, you never managed to say goodbye to the papaya drivers, but they did DM you.

Lando Norris has followed you

Oscar Piastri has followed you

You’ve been added to a groupchat with Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri

Your eyes almost flew out of your head when you saw the notifications. This wasn’t happening, you thought but you clicked on it anyway.

Lando Norris: We didn’t get the chance to say goodbye, but we just wanted to thank you for your support and coming to as many races as you can!

Oscar Piastri: Lando’s said it all, but hopefully you can come to another race soon, and we’ll try to win even if you can’t.

You laughed at the very opposite but almost the same message from each of them. Your hands were shaking as you replied back.

Y/N L/N: You were having too much fun celebrating the win! A big thank you to you guys as well for making it so easy to support a great team. Hopefully I can get to a race soon! If not I’ll be watching from home still cheering you guys on!

Oscar Piastri: you don’t have to be so formal 😂I feel like we can call you a friend if you keep helping us win

Lando Norris: what osc said, don’t be a stranger.

Y/N L/N: no need to bully me! You’re a-listers! How else was i supposed to respond

Lando Norris: OMG!!! I can’t believe you texted me!! You followed me too OMG OMG OMG. I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH 🧡🧡🥰🥰🥳🥳 ASGKWBEWOEHJ

Oscar Piastri: like that ^^

Y/N L/N: that’s what I’m doing on the inside lol, but i think I would block myself if I did actually typed that

Lando Norris: yeah it was a bit weird to type 😂

Oscar Piastri: great, now I have two of you

You tilted your head at the comment but shook it off. You were pretty similar to Lando on the goofy side of things.

Y/N L/N: Don’t worry Oscar, when I’m not on an adrenaline high like I am right now, I’m more like you than you think

Lando Norris: great, now there’s two of you

Oscar Piastri: i’ll have to see this in person then

Y/N L/N: is that an invite I’m hearing?

Lando Norris: sounds like it to me.

Oscar Piastri: it was indeed.

Y/N L/N: i’ll see what my work and class schedule looks like and I’ll get back to you on that offer. Graduation is soon so i’m balancing a lot of things

Lando Norris: its my offer too!!!!!!

Oscar Piastri: what do you go to school for?

Y/N L/N: noted Lando, and sports journalism, dream job is to work in F1.

Lando Norris: That’s mint! I think you’ll do good

Oscar Piastri: you’ve got a very warming personality that I’m sure all the drivers will like. If you ever need to practise, we’re here.

Lando Norris: If you twist my words I’ll know you did it

Oscar Piastri: Lando!

Y/N L/N: Lando!! 😭 I promise I won’t, this season especially really helped push me into this because I hate the way the media portrays two/three of the nicest people ever.

Lando Norris: i know we’re the two…but who’s three

Oscar Piastri: guess 🦁

Lando Norris: NOOOOOOOOO

Lando Norris: WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO MEEE

Oscar Piastri:  😂😂😂

Y/N L/N: IM SORRY!!! I CAN’T HELP IT!!

Y/N L/N: Oscar!! Why would you throw me under like that!!

Oscar Piastri: *this user is no longer available*

Lando Norris: invite has been taken back.

Y/N L/N: nooo!!! I’m sorry!!! OSCAR!!!!!

Oscar Piastri: *this user apologises for the chaos he has now unpacked*

Baku 2024

Within the three weeks that passed between Zandvoort and Baku, Oscar and Lando never stopped texting you. The three of you figured out you had a lot in common and clicked like magnets. Over that time, you had plenty of new followers and decided to do a Q&A on your tiktok.

“How am I able to go to so many GP’s? Are you a millionaire?” You laughed after reading the question. “I’m not a millionaire by any means. I saved up for about a little over a year, didn’t go out with friends unless it was a birthday, didn’t buy unnecessary stuff, just was really good with not spending so I could treat myself this year. I’m in my last months of uni, which I got a full scholarship for, so not having to worry about school costs is also a great help.”

“Have you spoken to Lando and Oscar since your time in the garage? They follow you now too.” You thought quickly about it, “I haven’t no,” oops. “They were just being polite and doing their jobs when they saw me in the garage. As for the following thing, I can’t tell you why they decided to do that, but I'm not complaining.” You chuckled.

“What are you studying in Uni?”

“I’m in my final months of my sports journalism major. That's why I’m a big fan of F1, but also F1 got me into journalism, it's a circle of interest.” You mimicked drawing a circle that never ends.

In those three weeks you had also moved your group chat out of Instagram.

Osco: Is it terrible to say I miss having you in the garage?

Landito: wow Osc, straight to the point

Osco: leave me alone

Y/N: if it's anything I miss being in the garage, but no it’s terrible

Landito: what he means to say is…. we miss seeing you in person

Osco: facetime isn’t enough

Osco: come to Baku?

Landito: we took back her invite remember?

Osco: you took back your invite…

Y/N: i’ll be there already

Landito: WAIT REALLY???

Osco: is this a prank?

Y/N: yes really

Y/N: and no not a prank

Osco: answer please

Your phone started ringing just as you read it. You were in no position to be facetiming two people you now had a crush on… yeah, that also happened over the three weeks. You tried to tell yourself they were just being nice and you were caught up, but the way they acted sometimes led you to believe otherwise.

“Why am I looking at the ceiling?” Lando pointed out. “Because I am in no way showing you what I look like right now.” You laughed at them. “Yes you are.” Oscar commented. “We facetimed you for a reason.”

“Face please.” Lando asked sweetly, and you rolled your eyes. There you were in your McLaren x Reiss jacket, curls thrown up into a mix of a bun and ponytail, and glasses over your eyes. “You wear glasses?!” Lando said peeking over Oscar’s shoulder. They were always together, you started to realise.

“Yes, Lando. I wear glasses.” You shook your head with a small smile. “Well, you look beautiful as always. What’s this about you coming to Baku and not telling us?” Oscar moved on swiftly. “It was supposed to be a surprise! I was-”

“Nope, if it’s a surprise we shall wait.” Oscar cut her off. “I don’t want to wait though.” Lando groaned from behind him. “It’s in 2 days, Lando.” Oscar said, looking at the head that was now on his shoulder. “2 days too long.” He mumbled. “I promise it’ll be worth it!”

And worth it it was. After your track walk, there you were, the media pen, questions about the upcoming weekend ready, with an F1 TV microphone in your hand. F1 had reached out to you after your Q&A video asking about your sports journalism career. One thing led to another and here you were.

“Hey Max, first things first, how are you feeling this weekend?” Max smiled. “I mean, I’m feeling fine, I definitely need to get in the car to see how we do on track. Not very well if you’re here though.” 

“You know who I am?” You asked in shock. “All other drivers hope you don’t make it to the races with the track record you have, but someone told me I was one of your favourites.” Of course they did. “Well they wouldn’t be lying.” You chuckled shyly. 

Max leaned on the gate as you got your questions ready. "This year has seen a shift in the competitive order with McLaren and Ferrari stepping up. You’ve still proven to be one of the best drivers this season and currently lead the Drivers' Championship, with Red Bull fighting to stay at the top in the Constructors’. With three titles already under your belt, how do you maintain focus when the dominance you’ve grown used to in both championships isn’t guaranteed anymore—especially heading into a high-risk, high-reward circuit like Baku, where unpredictability often plays a major role?"

Max seemed a little shocked with the question. “I mean…” You nodded along as he answered and when he finished and the camera was off he smiled. “Those were very good questions. I look forward to seeing you the rest of the weekend.” You smiled at him. “Thank you, it means a lot.”

You got similar style compliments from other drivers and when the papaya boys walked in and spotted you they both smiled but had to work their way down the pen. Oscar was the first to get to your station. A quick glance to his eyes showed the professionalism he was using to hide the sheer excitement at seeing you again. “Hey Oscar, you’re going into this weekend with a double podium from Monza, how are you preparing for this weekend to get the same results if not better?”

Oscar chuckled. “Well if you’re here then a McLaren win seems to be in the cards.” You shook your head at him as he smirked. “But…”

“Thank you Oscar, good luck this weekend.” Before he left he reached over the barrier to give you a quick hug. “Nice to see you again.” He said before walking off. Lando quickly took his position and gave you his eye-closing smile. “Hey you.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “Hey Lando, after the double podium in Monza, it’s clear that McLaren has made significant strides this season. With the Constructors' Championship in reach with just 11 points to Red Bull, how do you approach a circuit like Baku, where opportunities and risks are amplified? Do you feel this weekend could be pivotal in swinging the fight for the Constructors’ in McLaren’s favor against Ferrari as well?"

Lando tilted his head. “You’re one of the only people who’s brought Ferrari into the Constructors fight.” He pointed out and you shrugged lightly. “You’ve said before that Red Bull isn’t your competition, Ferrari is.”

Lando’s interview came and went just as quickly as Oscars and he too ended the interview with a hug. Charles and Carlos were just after and both of them mentioned knowing who you were and to take a stop at their garage.

The weekend went really well. Any free time you had was bouncing between garages and meeting new people. And like clock work, McLaren won the race, in Oscar’s favour. You were doing post race interviews and the wide smile on Oscar’s face when he saw you made your insides warm. “Please come to every race.” He joked and you laughed lightly. “Congratulations on your win today Oscar, after some very good fights with Charles…”

Because you had to go through every driver, and then got invited to talk about your experience on F1 TV-

“We are bringing on the voice you’ve heard all weekend, Y/N L/N.” Laura introduced as you walked into the middle of the group. “How are you?” She asked. “I’m doing really amazing. It’s been such a busy weekend for me, all thanks to you guys for inviting me and giving me some on the field action.”

Will Buxton spoke next. “You’ve become a big name here, everytime you come to a race, a McLaren driver wins. How is that even possible?”

You laughed alongside the rest of the panel. “I just put 50 kilos of extra weight in everyones car before the race this time. I think I’ll run the engine out next time though. Make everyone have grid-penalties.” You joked and they all laughed again. “It’s been so nice having you with us this weekend! We hope that you can join us again sometime soon!”

-you were able to stay much longer into the evening. Making your way to the McLaren garage you saw that they were prepping for a team photo and you quickly got your camera out to snap the moment for yourself. “No, you get in here too!” Zak yelled seeing you and the team cheered in agreement. You shook your hands not wanting to spoil it but then you were getting picked up from behind by a shoeless Lando and plopped right to Oscar.

Oscar placed an arm around you with a wide smile. “This is too much.” You told him. “Nope, it’s not.” He smiled again. You shook your head but smiled and cheered for the picture as well, and then the champagne. The team member next to you handed you their bottle with a wink at Oscar. Right as the photo ended you shook the bottle and made sure to douse Oscar as he tried to run away. Lando also joined you and the three of you were getting drenched in everyone else's champagne.

“There are two of you!” Oscar joked. “Yeah you might be right about that.” Lando laughed, clearing champagne from his eyes. “That was fun!” you laughed clinking Oscars champagne bottle. “You’ve got about 5 minutes before you start to smell.” He laughed and then your face fell. “I don’t have a change of clothes!” Lando laughed as you freaked out and Oscar just hugged you. “I’m sure we can find you something to wear.”

They did, you were wearing a team kit from their spare room in the hub. It was enough to get you to your hotel room. “Want to ride with us to the hotel?” Lando asked coming to walk with you as you reached the doors to walk out. “Yeah that sounds good.” He took your hand just as you were going to exit. “We have to wait for Oscar.” He said and you nodded and without letting go of your hand he dragged you back towards the main area.

“Did you enjoy your weekend?” He asked as you two leaned against a wall. “It was an amazing weekend.” You smiled giddily, closing your eyes. “I hope this doesn’t change that.” You opened your eyes to see Lando coming closer to you, eyes looking down at your lips. You nodded lightly and he closed the gap between your lips. His teeth nipped yours, with a sense of impatience. “Just couldn’t wait could you.” You broke away with his head resting against yours. Oscar. Why did you feel so guilty? “Oscar I-” He just shook his head with a laugh coming to your otherside. “I won, does that mean I get a kiss?” 

You looked at Lando who still had that dazed smile, then back to Oscar. “You didn’t tell her, did you?” He said and Lando shook his head. “We’re dating, now can I kiss you please?” He said quickly before taking your lips in his. His kiss was softer but still as impatient. “We’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He sighed when he pulled away. 

“Really?” You asked softly, hand coming to press against your tingling lips. “Yes, since we started texting you. Oscar and I just couldn’t get you out of our heads.” Lando said with a small smile. 

“I thought I was being delusional.” You chuckled softly. “Not at all.” Oscar's hand went to your hip softly squeezing. “Come to Singapore with us, please.” You looked at Lando who took your hand and held it in his own. “Please.” You nodded almost in a trance.

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 9

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 8 | Series Masterlist | Part 10

Chapter Summary: Bucky takes you home, but will he keep his hands to himself?

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.7k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, tension, dirty talk, unease, possessiveness, inner turmoil, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and thank you for your patience! Hope you lovelies continue to enjoy. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You thought you heard the men wish you well once more when Bucky led you out of the office. You weren’t completely sure since you tried to block everything out, but attempting to disassociate wouldn’t exactly do you any good. The night wasn’t over yet and you had to stay sharp. You didn’t know what Bucky had planned for when he got you home. Were you prepared at all?

Not in the least.

You half expected to walk back through the front of the club to leave, but Ray directed you to a door near the back once he gave Bucky a nod. The car was waiting in the alley and you took a moment to glance up at the sky. You could only make out one star and you wished in that moment you could grow wings and fly away. But when did wishing upon a star do you any good?

“Let’s get you back to your place,” Bucky said, helping you into the car.

You had to give him credit for trying to keep up his end of the bargain by getting you home on time. Your body refused to relax though once he sat beside you and took your hand. Was he trying to get you accustomed to his touch? Make you crave him? It bothered you that in spite of your determination he drew you in to a certain degree. But you wouldn’t let him take you to bed tonight. You weren’t ready to cross that inevitable line.

Maybe, just maybe, if your performance in bed disappointed him, he’d get bored and walk away. The thought almost made you laugh. That wasn’t happening. If anything, he’d probably love teaching you how to be his perfect lover.

“I think tonight went well,” Bucky smiled.

“Which part exactly?” You mumbled, pulling your hand away. The part where he forced you to go, how his men all but admitted they knew Bucky stalked you, or how they beat the hell out of a man?

“Just the night in general. I knew everyone would love you, but I really think Thor wants to be your big brother now,” Bucky replied. You wanted it so badly to be endearing, but Thor was dangerous. He mentioned a father-in-law. How exactly did he find his wife? And bringing up the flower donations to the hospital. Bucky seemed upset. Why? “Which he’ll have to fight Steve for.”

“Fighting. You guys seem to excel in that arena,” you said, remembering how they all took turns beating up John. “But I guess Steve does have a bit of that ‘big brother’ vibe, helping you take total control of my life and whatnot.”

“Not total control. I’m still letting you work, but maybe I can buy the shop.” He chuckled at your thunderous expression. The light threat had you seeing red. “I probably shouldn't joke about that, should I?”

“Letting me work? Like it’s your decision? And don’t you dare buy the shop.” You pushed at him to keep from slapping him when he chuckled again. Not with enough force to get him far away from you, but you needed some sort of space in the vehicle. He also needed a good hit over the head. “You’re a bully, do you know that? So are your friends.”

His laughter died off quickly when he reached out and gently took your hand again, prying your fingers away from your palm. You didn’t notice it stung from your nails until he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. “You think we’re bullies?” He asked against your skin.

“Yes. Besides nearly beating that jerk to death, you do realize that you use force and threats to dominate and intimidate. That’s a form of bullying, Bucky,” you said. Was he deliberately being obtuse or was he lost in his delusion that this was all normal?

“I wouldn’t say we’re bullies. I call it protecting and keeping what’s mine,” he said. There was no shame on his end.

“Right. Because I’m a possession and not a person,” you said, your face scrunching up as you tried not to cry. You needed rest. If part of Bucky’s plan was to wear you down by overwhelming you, mission accomplished. “I’m so tired. I just want to go to bed.”

“You’re a person, not a possession, Kotyonok. And not just a person, a good person who gives so much of herself to others. And probably one of the only people who rightfully calls me out on my shit.” His response drew you up short. “Outside of my friends, no one else does that.”

“Maybe because they’re afraid of you and what you can do,” you said after a moment. Fear could make anyone say what they thought people wanted to hear. “Either that or they want your approval,” you added, which you could also understand to a point. People wanted a sense of belonging, especially with those who had influence and power.

“Maybe they are afraid,” he agreed, brushing his lips against your palm again with a sigh. “What is it about me that scares you most?”

“I’m not really sure exactly,” you admitted. There was so much about the situation that terrified you. What he was capable of. How he inserted himself into various aspects of your life and so quickly. How far he was willing to go to keep you. “But I think it’s your conviction. That you’re so sure that I’m your other half and no one can convince you otherwise, not even me.”

You could scream until your lungs gave out that you didn’t belong with him and you knew in your heart he’d argue until his last breath that you did. He was steadfast in that belief that you were soulmates. That conviction was so strong that what you really feared was that he would somehow convince you that he was right: that you belonged together.

Those steel blue eyes of his met yours and mesmerized you for a heartbeat before you looked away. “Love is scary. It’s natural to be afraid of it.” His lips brushed your ear, making you shiver. “But giving someone the most fragile parts of yourself is one of the bravest things a person can do.”

There was truth in his words, but it felt like he moved another chess piece into place. He was trying to disarm you and you couldn’t let him. “Who painted that black dahlia in your office?” You asked suddenly, feeling him move back enough that you could turn your head toward him. “And why display that flower?” You didn’t believe for a second that he chose it for aesthetic purposes.

“Beautiful, isn't it? Steve painted it,” he replied with an odd mixture of affection and bitterness. “It’s for my parents.”

“Steve is a gifted artist.” You hoped your voice stayed even enough that Bucky wouldn’t get jealous of you complimenting another man’s talent. “I don't know if the symbolism of flowers mean anything to you, but the black dahlia-”

“Betrayal. Sadness. Darkness,” he ticked off, his voice cold enough that another shiver moved through your body. “It was the last flower my dad ever got my mom and it serves as a reminder.”

You swallowed as warning bells sounded in your mind to tread carefully. “And what's that?”

He moved close, your eyes shutting as his hand wrapped around the nape of your neck. “That I'll never do to you what he did to her.”

There was suppressed rage within him. Sorrow. It rolled off him in waves strong enough that they could drown you. He said earlier that his dad got what he deserved. What had he done to his mom?

“You’re in pain,” you whispered. He was hurting and you logically shouldn’t care. So why did you want to know the cause of that hurt? “You have to tell me why.”

It wasn’t for you to use to your advantage. You weren’t sure if you could manipulate someone else. If you knew what happened though, it would at least give you more answers to who Bucky was and why he was the way he was. It could help you gain some sort of understanding.

“I’m not in pain when I’m with you,” he whispered, bringing your hand on his chest. Was he relying on you to chase away whatever haunted him? “Later. I’ve overwhelmed you enough for one evening.”

You let out a breath. You swore he was doing this on purpose, giving you just enough information that you’d wait around until he gave you more. “I can’t argue with you there,” you said, his heart racing under your touch. “Just answer one thing for me, please.”

“What’s that?”

“Marc from the bookstore,” you began, the man’s kind face shimmering in your mind. “Did anything happen to him?”

“I’d question another man being on your mind, but I know you’re just concerned about his well-being.” An easy smile crossed Bucky’s face as you bit your tongue. You could think about anyone you wanted to. “I can’t speak for him right this second, but he was perfectly fine when you and I left. He was just having a chat with one of my associates.”

You exhaled, thankful Marc wasn't hurt. “What kind of chat?” You asked. He was a nice guy, though he did seem to know a bit about Bucky. What exactly was he involved in?

“He just got a warning to be careful about what he does or doesn’t say to his customers.” You tensed before he kissed your forehead. Did he know about the conversation you two had? “And I don’t think the two of you should be alone with each other in the bookstore going forward.”

Just when Bucky had you feeling some sort of sympathy for him moments ago he shocked you right out of it. “Another decision that isn’t yours to make,” you stated, the car coming to a stop. “And you really don’t have to walk me up. I think we’ve had enough of each other’s company tonight.”

“I said I’m tucking you into bed and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” The smile he gave you was nothing short of cocky when he added, “And you owe me a photo. I’m going to get it.”

He was a dog with a bone. He wouldn’t let that go. “Why don’t you just take a photo of me giving you the finger?” You suggested as he helped you out of the car.

“Only if you do it with a smile. I’ll even set it as the background on my phone,” he winked. Your reluctance and defiance of him didn’t phase him in the slightest. “And if you give me the finger, I’ll take it as an invitation that you want to fuck me.”

“Let’s go, please.”

You said nothing else as you went into the building, your anxiety mounting by the second. The slow rise of the elevator didn’t help, Bucky’s hip pressed against yours like he couldn’t stand to have space between you. You figure he’d shove you against the wall and claim your mouth, but he didn’t make a move. It impressed you that he behaved until you got to your floor. It didn’t stop your hand from shaking when you got your keys out.

“Still don’t want to say good night now?”

“I don’t want to say good night at all,” he answered, following you into the apartment and turning on the light. The welcoming feeling you expected when you got home wasn't there. There was a chill in the usual warmth.

“Well, you’ll have to sooner or later,” you said, swallowing when you faced Bucky. He shut the door and watched intently as you set your keys and bag down. You were quiet as you stared back, tension thick as you tried to predict what he was going to do. Once again, he managed to hold all the power in your home.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” He asked, heat and hunger in his stare as he slowly advanced.

Your throat went dry as you stepped back. “You have.”

“So beautiful and so good.” You made another move to retreat when he stepped forward, his manner confident and compelling as he reached out and prevented you from moving back further. “It’s driving me crazy not having you yet.”

“Please, you don’t…” you trailed off when he sank to his knees, unexpected heat flowing from your core. He guided one of your hands to his shoulder to brace yourself, his eyes soft as he helped remove one of your shoes. You found it difficult to breathe as he removed the other, his hand brushing your ankle with infinite tenderness. Like it was an honor to touch and be on his knees for you.

“I know the first time I taste you I’ll never want to stop. I’ll have to wake up every day between your thighs. Fall asleep that way, too.” His hand slid up your calf and his eyes darkened when your other hand found its way to his thick locks. Wetness gathered between your legs when his touch moved to your thigh. “Your pussy is hungry for me, isn’t it? My fingers, my tongue, my cock. I’ll feed her well.”

His voice was like velvet. Seductive. Aching. “Bucky…” Your breath rushed out swiftly when he kissed your mound through your clothes, tormenting you with arousal you didn’t ask for. It frightened you.

“I can smell you,” he murmured, nosing along where his lips had been before he sat back. “Smell so fucking good.”

Moving your shoes out of the way, he rose to his full height again as you willed your legs not to shake. You weren’t used to anyone looking at you, let alone speak to you, the way he did. Stark desire. Possessiveness. His form of love. Your heart pounded and you refused to answer him or glance down. If you looked at the front of his pants…

He took your hand and pulled you in the direction of the bedroom. Your heart pounded with mounting speed, your heels digging into the floor. “You still haven't kissed me,” you blurted out, hoping it would prevent him from taking you to bed. Or would he take that as an invitation to kiss your lips?

“No, I haven't.” You tried to keep some distance between you as he went to your bed, his hand moving along the blanket. You couldn't breathe. “It scares you how much your body wants mine, doesn’t it?”

“Is that what you think?” You asked, forcing air back into your lungs. It did scare you. It also scared you that you didn’t push him away or scream when he dropped to his knees to remove your shoes. Where was your fighting instinct?

“It is what I think.” The ease in which he moved away from the bed to your dresser to find your pajamas frightened you, too. Like he belonged in your room. You thought back to the night he broke in and left your gift on your bed. How much time did he take to look around? “Like love, giving your body to someone can be scary. You have to trust that you won't get hurt when you’re physically vulnerable.”

“You swore you wouldn't hurt me,” you reminded him.

“And I won't. But you know what else I think?” His magnetic gaze stayed on you as he brought a nightgown over. “That no guy has ever really taken care of you and you’re apprehensive to let me try.”

If you were apprehensive, it was because he was a walking red flag. “What makes you…” Your words stopped when he grasped the bottom of your shirt and pulled it up. Your arms instinctively went up before you realized what you were doing. Removing your shirt, you didn’t get a chance to cover your breasts before he slipped the nightgown on you.

“Your past boyfriends never did anything for you. Emotionally, physically,” he stated, sliding his hands under the nightgown to your hips. Grasping the hem of your pants, he pushed them down as far as he could. “I’ll bet they didn’t even buy you flowers and used the excuse that they didn’t because you’re a florist.”

The words were tiny cuts on old wounds, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. “And you will?”

“I will. I’ll give you the life and love you deserve, making you forget any other man out there existed before me.” His eyes raked over you as you stepped out of your pants, your panties still soaked. “But I’m not gonna fuck you.”

Exhaling slowly, relief flooded you. Though you couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t trying to take what he wanted. “You won’t?”

“Not tonight.” He shook his head even as his fingers moved along your waist. “Like I said, I’ve overwhelmed you enough. Sleeping with you might really put you over the edge.”

“Thanks.” He desired you, but continued to hold it at bay for your sake. How long would that last? “I appreciate that.”

“And we both know the moment I take you to bed, you’ll be begging for more.” His voice dropped as he toyed with the soft fabric. “And as much as I want to stay in bed with you all night and morning and give us what we both crave, I still need to get things in place at the penthouse and you need rest. You understand.”

You tried not to smile and failed. He acted as if he was doing you a favor. Cocky bastard. “I guess we’ll just have to suffer until then.” Sarcasm continued to be a good way to deflect.

He exhaled at your light teasing, his body still a bit tense. Being close to you and not having you was probably driving him mad. “Maybe we'll have to have another private call and finish what we started. Give us both some relief.” He turned you toward the door and gave you a light swat on your ass. “Go wash your face and brush your teeth before I change my mind.”

You made it to the bathroom in record time, not having to be told twice. You didn’t want to risk staying there in case he lost his resolve. Looking in the mirror as you went through the rest of your nighttime routine, you expected to look more exhausted from the whirlwind of the day. You somehow looked wide awake. Was the experience giving you thicker skin? Or did his desire for you somehow give you a bit of a twisted spark? You’d still be billing him for your future therapy bills either way.

A couple of deep breaths and you made your way back to your bedroom. You paused when you saw Bucky holding a framed photo of you and your friends, longing in his eyes when he lifted his gaze. “You look so happy,” he murmured, carefully setting the frame down on the nightstand before he pulled the blankets back for you. “Can you do me one favor and I’ll go?”

“I was happy. It was a fun day.” You slipped into bed when he gave you space to do so, but his body was still close to yours. Firm. Hard. He really could pin you down and do what he wanted if he wished. “What’s the favor?”

He tucked the blanket around you, his hair falling into his face. You almost reached up to brush it back, but refrained. Who knew what your touch would do? “Look at me like you love me. Please.”

You stiffened as you stared up at his face, your heart simultaneously racing and breaking for him. Love was something that provided a sense of connection, fulfillment. It was a way to show you that you weren’t alone in the world. You wanted to believe you were worthy of love, that you could build a life with someone. Bucky believed he was that someone.

Why?

You weren’t sure if it was his yearning gaze or if you were ready for the night to end, but your expression softened as you imagined meeting him in another life. Going on fun dates, talking about books, making each other laugh as you cooked together, snuggling under a blanket as you talked about your future. You found yourself smiling at the images that went through your mind. What could’ve been. What could be if he lessened his hold a bit on you.

He audibly exhaled when he snapped a photo on his phone, making you blink. “Thank you. Now I can look at this whenever I’m not near you and need to feel your love.”

Words escaped you, the invisible collar around your throat getting tighter. You could only nod and wonder how you kept throwing fuel on the fire of his want for you. Which one of you would burn first?

“Get some sleep. Dream sweet dreams.” You felt featherlight kisses on each eyelid when you shut them. “You know, I’ll sleep a lot easier once you’re in my bed.”

“If you get me into your bed,” you mumbled, refusing to look at him.

“Stubborn kitten.” He chuckled and gave each eyelid one more kiss. Why were his lips so soft? “Maybe I’ll stop by the shop tomorrow so I can take you to lunch. You can tell Addison all about it.”

“Maybe.” You yawned and snuggled more into your pillows. “Good night, Bucky.”

A finger moved along your cheek before it stopped abruptly. “Good night, Kotyonok.”

Bucky still hadn't kissed your mouth.

You didn’t open your eyes as he left, but you didn’t fall asleep right away either. Your body was too wound up. Too many questions went through your mind. Like what happened with his parents and how exactly he’d move you out of your place.

The man was a step ahead in everything. You’d be in his penthouse before the month was over. He’d get his way, but maybe it didn't have to be his way completely. He could give you an area in the place for you and you alone. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. After all, he did say he’d make it up to you by dragging you out tonight.

And if he cared the way he said he did, he could give you that one small thing.

Is our poor Kotyonok starting to accept the inevitable? Will Bucky stop by the shop? And how much longer until he really takes you to bed?Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[moody-alcoholic]

On a Wing and a Prayer

Part 3 - The First 24 Hours

This 'short' dribble is getting out of control. Also reader is a medic now... I have a thing for medical dramas.. CW: PTSD, mental health, panic attacks, little bit of comfort.

Previous parts - masterlist - next

You don’t want to stay in the med-bay. You want to get out of the sterile room to somewhere you feel comfortable. Which is hard to find while you’re still stuck on a base. You go to your room trying to ignore and avoid as many people as you can. 

You catch people whispering out the corner of your eyes, there’s probably not been anything this interesting happening in months. It’s not everyday special forces turn on one of their own, it’s not everyday they torture one of their own. 

You make it back to your room. It’s just the way you left it. Now it feels empty. 

There would be times when you would come back from a long day of training to find Simon laid on your bed with a cigarette between his lips, or Johnny sitting crossed legged with a book ready to talk your ear off about his day. 

That’s never going to happen again, you never want them in your space again. When you make it over to the bed you see a letter with your name on it. You recognise the handwriting it’s John’s. You don’t want to open it, your eyes go to the trash bin in the corner of your room. That's the only place it belongs. 

Your curiosity gets the better of you though. 

You sit down picking it up, your hands shaking, you’re holding your breath as you open it. You don’t even make it past the first line of the word vomit apology before you don’t want to read it any more. There is no use in them trying to reconcile with you. You fold it closed. Simon’s lighter is still there on the crate you turned into a bedside table. You pick it up, it makes you mad. 

You hate them, you hate what they put you through. You thought they loved you. You thought they would be on your side believing everything you said. Instead they hurt you, over and over for days. You found out from Kyle it had been 4 days. It felt longer. 

You bring the lighter up to the letter and set it on fire. You hold it in your hand watching as the flames disintegrate it into nothing. You drop it on the floor when it's about to reach your fingers and stamp it out. The knock at your door makes you jump. Your heart is pounding in your chest. 

“It’s me.” Kyle calls. You walk over opening it. He smiles at you but you don’t smile back. 

“He’s awake. He’s asking for you.” Kyle says. You let out a sigh of relief. He made it, thank god he made it. You follow Kyle in silence back to the med-bay. You walk past the room you slept in last night. Well slept wasn’t really the right word. Everytime you close your eyes, you're back in that room, with the snakes and the water. Two hours you think you go in total, spent the rest of the night having panic attacks until a nurse found you sobbing in a corner. 

The doctor wants you to speak to a psychiatrist. ‘Yeah? So I can be discharged? I want to work.’ That was met with sighs and a prescription for sleeping pills. Kyle stops just outside Johnny’s room. He turns to you and sighs.

“John and Simon are already here.” He says, it makes your stomach twist. You haven’t seen them since you left the room. You don’t want to see them, but you want to see Johnny. 

“It’s okay.” You lie. Kyle sighs again, you can tell by the expression on his face he’s sorry. 

“They don’t want to tell Johnny about what happened. They’re worried it will upset him. He’s only just woke up, the doctors want to give him a few days. Make sure he’s stable.”  

“Is that the doctor's decision on John’s?” You snap. You’re mad, you don’t want to lie to Johnny. Kyle doesn’t answer, instead he presses his lips together running his hand over his head. You sigh looking into the room, you can see John and Simon stood by the bed blocking your view of Johnny. 

It doesn’t matter who said it, they're right. Johnny needs rest, he needs to recover, he’s been in a coma for almost a week any stress could be dangerous. 

“I won’t say anything.” You say letting out a breath. Kyle smiles and reaches forward to grab your hand. You move it away so he can’t crossing your arms instead. You have to calm down or it’s going to be harder than it already is. 

Kyle walks in the room and you follow after. You try not to look at them but you can’t help it. Luckily Johnny pulls your attention away.

“Where have you been hiding lass? I thought you'd never leave my side!” He calls as you make it round to the other side of the bed and hug him. He groans in pain as he leans forward. You hope he can’t feel how hard your heart is beating. 

 “We were worried, for a while it looked like you weren't going to make it.” Kyle says as you break away from the hug. 

“Pff, not when I have the best medic in the world looking after me.” He says winking at you and grabbing your hand. You squeeze it tight and force a smile at him. It feels unnatural, it feels wrong, everything about this feels wrong. 

“What happened?” He asks suddenly, his eyes creasing together, his face going dark. You’re holding your breath, it feels like everyone in the room is holding their breath. He holds your hand up. You still have the hospital tag on. Shit. Panic rises in you. You don’t know what to do. You open your mouth to speak but words don’t come out.

“She hit her head.” Kyle says. You let out a sigh of relief as his hand finds the small of your back. 

“They wanted to keep me in for observation.” You follow up hoping he can’t hear the shaking in your voice. You look up at John and Simon, the colour drained from their faces. Simon clears his throat and Johnny turns to look at him. It gives you a second to squeeze your eyes shut and wish you were anywhere else. 

“You been pushing her too hard again?” Johnny asks Simon tutting. 

“Only what she can handle.” Simon says, it sounds cold in your ears. You feel sick bile rises in your stomach. You need to leave, your hand is sweaty, you pull it away from Johnny. You’re glad Kyle’s hand is on your back because without it you think you might pass out. 

“I have to go. Got this new rota that's kicking my ass.” You say trying to keep your voice level. It sounds so unnatural. You swallow trying to get the lump forming in your throat to go away but it wont. “I’ll come see you later. I promise.” You back up from the bed as Johnny looks confused. 

You can’t be here. You almost want to sprint out the room but you keep your calm walking out normally. When you leave and close the door behind you, that's when you run. 

______

You’re standing outside the washroom with a towel and a toothbrush in your hand. You want to take a shower scrub the layer of grease that's formed on your skin. You tried, you tried to take a shower in the hospital, the water brings flashbacks. Great, now you’re afraid of water. 

You have to get it together, if you can’t you’ll be sent home on leave, or worse discharged. You want to work, you enjoy work. Maybe not the people you work with but you’ve already thought about a transfer. You doubt John will have any issues with that, and if he does well there are always people above him. 

“Hey.” Kyle calls making you jump. He frowns coming towards you. “Didn’t see you at dinner, is everything okay?” It looks like he already regrets that question, no nothing is okay. Everything sucks and all you want to do is take a shower. 

“I want a shower.” You say looking back at the door. 

“Is someone in there? I can kick them out.” he offers, you sigh, shaking your head. He seems to get it and you hear him sigh. He steps up next to you putting his hand on your back. 

“I can help,” he says. You shake your head forcing yourself to be strong as your lip quivers. You have to try and do this alone. Your knuckles turn white as you grip your toothbrush as hard as you can. 

“I’ll watch the door, make sure no one comes in.” He says rubbing your back. You smile at him and nod, stepping into the room before you change your mind completely. 

The place smells damp as the automatic lights flicker on. It’s only been you and the rest of 141 using this space so their stuff is everywhere. You start to realise things about the room you didn’t even see before. It’s windowless, there’s a loud hum of vents. The place smells of aftershave and soap. 

You walk over to one of the showers, hanging your towel over the half wall. You’re stripping your clothes before you can stop yourself. This feels like a routine, showering in the freezing base showers only this time the thought of turning the showers on makes you feel sick.

You keep telling yourself you can do this, repeating the mantra in your head if only to keep your mind occupied. You’ve been taught how to deal with PTSD and triggers, what's the best way to help, or stave them away. You don’t have PTSD, you remind yourself. You’re just going through a rough patch.

As soon as you can get away from 141 and have a good night's sleep you’ll feel better. And now Johnny’s awake, that's one less thing to worry about. You reach over and twist the hot tap on. The water hits your arm and you pull it back like you’ve just been burned. 

You can do this. It’s just a shower. Kyle’s watching the door. No one can hurt you. 

You suck in a deep breath and stick your leg in, the water is surprisingly hot for once. That’s good, it will make things easier. One step at a time. Your hand and arm go in next, your breathing picks up, goosebumps rise on the parts of your body still exposed to the air. Now you’re shaking. 

You let out a long breath forcing yourself to move into the water. You turn letting it run down your back in an attempt to get the shaking to stop. It doesn’t work. Now you’re frozen you can’t move. You try to focus on getting your breathing to steady but it’s not working. You have nothing to distract yourself with. 

You force your eyes closed, that just makes things worse. Fear rises in you, you don’t know why but your head tips back. As soon as the water hits your face it’s like you don’t know where you are anymore. You’re not in the showers, you're back in the room. The water drowns out any sound in your ears. You don’t know what’s happening anymore.

The next thing you know you’re on the floor, your head throbs. There’s commotion, a noise you don’t recognise and footsteps. You open your eyes with a sob as tears escape. You turn, you must have slipped, Kyle is turning the shower off. He picks up your towel and comes over to you, bending down and wrapping it around you. He doesn’t say anything, just kneels down on the wet floor pulling you into his arms. 

You sob in his arms as he holds you tight. You get it all out, all the tears you’ve been avoiding over the last 24 hours. Maybe this is what you needed: a good cry. 

Kyle doesn’t let you go. Eventually he starts rocking you, stroking your hair, kissing the top of your head. He tells you everything will be okay. You want to believe him, you so badly want to leave this room and everything will be magically better. 

It won’t be though, and it won’t be for a very long time. 

As you calm down and your body stops shaking, anger burns in you. This should never have happened to you. Especially not by the people you love. You hate them, you never want to see them again. Kyle notices your change in body language and silently helps you to your feet. 

He walks you across to your room, closing the door behind him. 

“Want me to stay?” he asks as he helps you over to your bed. You nod looking up at him, he strokes your cheek smiling. “I’ll be back in a second.” He says going to leave the room. 

You don’t want to be alone, not right now. Maybe with Kyle here you can get some sleep. Or maybe it will be worse, right now you’ll try anything. You look over at Simon's lighter still sitting on the crate. You pick it up, turning it over in your hand before dropping it in the trash.

You never want to see them again.

next

I could have kept going. I don't know when to stop... This is what happens when my main fic is on hold. I need a million projects or I get bored XD Banners by firefly-graphics

[click4rainy]

Scruffy Man//Logan Howlett boyfriend Head Canons

👽:my favorite old man frfr 😪 (not proof read)

SFW💛

★ Logan is fiercely protective of you, sometimes it can border on overbearing…If he senses danger just know he’s quick to step in without hesitation. “Just—stay close to me alright?” “I don’t care if it’s just a noise, stay behind me. I’ll check it out.”

★ This man is rough and rugged, always. But only you get to see his softer, more vulnerable side. Especially during quiet moments (aka when wade’s not home)

★ “Don’t go paradin’ this to the entire city now, but you’re my favorite person on this god forsaken planet.” He’ll murmur while bringing your hand up to his lips.

★ Logan is loyal to a FAULT! Once he commits, that’s it. He’s all in whether you like it or not. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here with you. Don’t think for a second I’d ever leave.” His loyalty runs deep and he’ll stand by you no matter the circumstances or the cost.

★ Peanut isn’t big on flowery words or poetry. But his love for you is shown through touch—rough bear hugs, protective hand holding, or giving you forehead kisses.

★ Again, rather than words this man expresses his love for you with his actions. “C’mere…” he mutters, pulling you into a hug that’s as secure as it is slightly crushing…

★ Fixing things around the house, cooking a simple, hearty meal. He tends to your wounds and pampers you when needed.

★ Logan’s temper flares if he feels like someone is crossing a line with you. “This guy botherin’ you?” He’ll ask cocking a brow, eyes narrowing as he sizes up the situation.

★ He’s got a dry, sarcastic sense of humor. Always expect sharp, quick witted one liners. “You’re late.” You’ll say, hand on hip. Smirking, he’ll reply some shit like “Time’s a human construct, babe.”

★ For someone who holds a gruff and rough exterior, he’s surprisingly a good cuddler. He’ll pull you close without a word, “Didn’t know I needed this til now.” He’ll smirk, relishing the warmth you provide.

★ Logan is the type of boyfriend who will stare at you when you’re not looking. His gaze can vary from intense affection to slight sadness. Sometimes he’ll reflect on the fear of losing you when he get’s lost in his admiration…

★ “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” You’ll ask whenever catching his stare. He just shakes his head slightly. “Just…takin’ it all in.”

★ Not one for fancy dates, he’ll plan out more low-key, intimate activities like camping in the woods, hiking together, or road trips on his motorcycle.

★ “I know a spot a few miles out. Stars are brighter there. Thought we could use the peace tonight.”

★ He has the absolute BEST stories. He shares stories behind his scars, memories from his long life during intimate moments. “This one?” He traces the mark up his arm. “Happened back in ‘78. Remind me to tell you about it when we get more whiskey.”

★ Whenever you’re feeling sad, or down, Logan knows how to be there, how to be present without speaking. “You don’t have to talk if you’re not ready. I’m here for ya…” He’ll sit beside you, offering you silent support and reassurance by giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze.

★ Sure, he’s blunt and straightforward. But with you, he’s also soft spoken. “I love you” “How did I get so lucky?” “You gonna let me hold you already or what?”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

NSFW💦🤭

★ He’ll never admit it, (he will) but he thinks it’s totally hot when you take control. Mostly because it’s a rare treat when you decide to do so. “Alright, alright. I’m sat.” “I love it when you get aggressive.”

★ He’s an experienced man. Who knows what he wants and exactly how to get it. “Mhmm—just like that…” “god damn baby…” “that’s right~”

★ Man’s got stamina for days. I’m talking about round after round. He’s down as long as you are.

★ “Oh, come on princess, I know you can take it a little longer.” He smiles, pounding into you relentlessly, his hand on the back of your head while pushing your face into the pillows.

★ Logan is rough around the edges…so of course you’re in for some rough treatment during freaky deaky time. “Quit squirmin’ and take it.” He grunts, pinning your wrists above your head, drilling into you with quick, harsh thrusts.

★ “God damn you’re snug.” He says, smacking your ass harshly while wrapping your hair around his free hand, pulling your head back as he sets a brutal pace.

★ Logan loves marking your skin during intimacy. Biting your shoulders. Nuzzling into the crook of your neck, sucking and leaving dark marks along the column of your delicate skin while soothing each sting with a tender kiss.

★ “look at you.” Logan coos, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “All beat up and tired. We haven’t even started yet.”

★ Gets off from overstimulating you with his cock. Rolling his hips against yours, slowly and agonizingly after making you cum several times already. Smirking while splitting you open. Using zero effort while your hands fist into the sheets. Legs trembling and a sheen of sweat on your forehead.

★ “Gonna make you walk crooked—fuck you til you’re beggin’ me to stop. Then keep goin’ til I get my fill. How’s that sound?” He teases, rubbing the tip of his cock against your buzzing, numb cunt before slamming into you without another word.

★ Loves it when you get on your knees for him. “Atta girl. Now, open up for me.” He commands gently, fisting your hair up into a ponytail for you. (Or just gripping your melon if you have short hair)

★ He’s not going to fuck your face unless you ask him to. Usually letting you set your own pace when you’re tasting him. Keeping your hair out of the way while praising you.

★ “Take it all baby..” “perfect.” “You’re damn good at thi—s aren’t you?” “Swallow for me…” his grip will tighten in your hair (or not) as you bob your head up and down his shaft. Feeling his cock throb in your hot mouth before spewing thick, white ropes down your throat.

★ He low key likes thigh riding. Like…a lot. It seriously is one of his favorite ways to make you a whimpering, whining mess.

★ “Fuck, you’re doing so good—” He’ll praise you, hands sliding up and down your sides before firmly gripping your hips, grinding you harder against his thigh. “You like that?”

★ After care…Logan knows his way around the block when it comes to pampering the love of his life. Especially after fucking you senseless.

★ Has a habit of getting too rough with you sometimes. Happens to the best of us, right? “Let me see those marks…” he’ll whisper, tracing over your skin with his finger tips.

★ “You alright?” “Still with me, sweetheart?” “just relax, that’s right. Let me take care of you.” “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” “C’mere, let me hold you”

★ Massaging your back, getting you a drink, cleaning you up and getting you a fresh set of clothing, running a bubble bath or shower. Whatever works best in the moment for you, he’ll do it.

[lndsismaeverything]

Lnds being a girl dad

Decided to write it down because I'm bored 🥱 here is my list of ideas that can use but just tag me on it so I can also enjoy the story

Xavier :

Calls your daughter lil princess

Has his hair color and your eyes. Inherited his cute lil pout

Xavier would totally get everything his lil princess wants. Want that new toy? Or how about the new plushie at the arcade machine? Sure, he'll get it right away

Xavier would love to read bed time stories to his daughter every night. Turning off the light while turning on the fairy lights acting as twinkling like stars in the night sky in your daughter room.

He definitely built a fort for her

Has two pets rabbits named Mr.Bunbun and Mrs.Bunbun ( they are married in your daughter mind )and one goldfish named Goldie had Goldie replace every month bec it keeps dying because of your clueless daughter that keep killing the fish

"Daddy why is Goldie floating? " your daughter said curiously " it's because he's taking his afternoon naps , and time for yours too " Xavier lifted his lil princess, carrying her too her room. After she's asleep Xavier calls you " we need another goldfish" he scratches his head " what is it this time?" You asked on there other line " she put a heater in the thank to keep him warm "you sigh, a hand on your hip as you told him frustrated " I told you not to give her a goldfish, poor fish "

He could tell his daughter the truth but couldn't stand to break her lil heart. And it isn't that he didn't keep an eye on her while she played with the fish it's just he took a 5 minutes nap , it wouldn't hurt right? Well that proofed him wrong...

Would like to bake cookies with her ( with you watching them of course )

Would miss his lil princess and you too during every mission . He can't wait to go home to his loving family

If you both are given a mission and both of u can't look after your daughter, she gladly stay with uncle Jeremiah. During the stay with her uncle she learns some gardening skills and is pretty good at taking care of plants

Xavier is of course jealous of Jeremiah, seeing his daughter talking about how the few days has been with her favorite uncle

" princess who do u like more your dad or your stupid uncle Jeremiah? " he said serious

" daddy don't say that about uncle Jeremiah! " good thing she has your personality always ready to defend the person she care and love. But Xavier couldn't help feel his heart ache but also feel proud, his lil princess stood up for his uncle but going against her dad

" uncle Jeremiah is a great uncle and smart tooo ! He's not stupid " she said to her dad " uncle Jeremiah is my favorite uncle! But you are my dad and the best daddy I could ask for "

You ended up ending the recording to Jeremiah to let him witness this scene too

Zayne

His office would be also his daughter office. After school your daughter would walk to Akso hospital since the kindergarten isn't far from the hospital just a 5min walk. But sometimes zayne would be free , so he would pick up his daughter if he didn't had a appointment at that time.

also would occasionally ( almost everytime he pick up his daughter ) bring your daughter to the bakery next a few buildings from the kindergarten .

Inherited his father's sweet tooth

Also hates the dentist

He will watch his daughter sit in his office doing her homework in her lil desk next to him. Also has a picture frame of the family photo that you didn't take a few days ago

The reason why zayne daughter would be at his work is because sometimes you can't pick up your daughter during the day is because your busy with mission and work.

After work you pick up your daughter at your husband work " bye daddy see you soon " she waved and your husband nodded " see you at home "

But sometimes zayne would come home late at night and your daughter would already be asleep by then. Also the reason why she likes going to her dad work place, is to spend time with him when at night she bearly see him or spend time with

When zayne would have a surgery your daughter would patiently do her homework ,if she's done she would go around the hospital lobby and talk to the nurses and doctors

The nurses and doctors love your cute lil daughter

" oh how she looks like Dr. Zayne so much "

" she also has Dr. Zayne calm expression "

Your daughter would have a personal ID badge hanging around her neck that you help her make . Just letting the other nurses and doctors know that she Dr.zayne daughter and not a lost kid

Zayne would double check himself if he has any blood on himself or the smell of blood on him before going to see his daughter after the surgery

Zayne can't help it if his daughter ask for another piece of his macarons " ok, you can have another one but just dont tell your mom. You can it have a maximum of 3 per day and you already have 5 "

"but daddy the same goes for you too and your already have 6 !" Your husband chuckled "alright this will be our lil secret"

" what little secrets ?" You lean against the doorframe , folding your arms as you watch both of them eating, almost finishing dozen macarons

Girl dad zayne would deny that he always saying yes to his daughter " oh really? What about last week Saturday? U said no more sugar but you bought her a snow cone" you tease your husband

" daddy can I have that snow cone? It's a double scoop and it looks like a snowman ! And best of all I can share with you ! "

" at least she has a good reason " your husband replied pushing his glasses to the brim of is node" oh just admit it Dr.zayne ~ "he smile and looked at your sleeping daughter on his office couch

Rafayell

Would spoil his lil sea guppy rotten

" daddy can I have a pony? " already bought one a few seconds ago when he say her drawing a pony. Bought a pony the same as the drawing

Want some plushies? No worries he called Thomas to get her the most cutest plushy and limited to edition

But your daughter love the plushies her had won for her at the arcade especially the pufferfish and the birb

Would teach your daughter about lemurians language. Also tell her stories about the lemurians

" daddy do you think I can turn my legs into a lemurian fish tailtoo? " her eyes sparked looking at her dad

" of course you can. You are half lemurian and human after all " rafayell ruffled her hair

The day she transformed into a lamurian in the bathtub is the day rafayell cheered for her because he didn't know if she could actually turn her legs into a fish tail

Would take her to the beach so she can swim in the ocean and get used to the salty waters . But also for some family fun time

You joined them watching how rafayell teach your daughter to swim in her new found form. You don't have a fish tail but you can still breath under water because of the sea god. It was fun watching your daughter struggle a bit

" hold my hand it be easier for your to balance yourself " your husband hold your daughter hand preventting from her turning upside down

" ugh, daddy this is worst then learning how to ride a bike! " your daughter wine, you couldn't help but laugh at them

Rafayell would bring your daughter to the art exhibit .

Also have a painting named after her and inspired by her . But that isn't for sale that's for the living room at home

Your daughter has a lot of dresses like a lot and same for shoes and jewelry. Rafayell like to dress his daughter up

First class trips with her daddy

Rafayell would definitely ride his sports car to pick her up at kindergarten.

" now wheres my little guppy? " he said standing at the door from the class she's in " daddy ! "

Sylus

Would let your daughter go on busssnins meeting with him because she asked him. At first he said no because it's a dangerous mission . But your daughter is cunning which she got from you of course " but I have daddy to protect me there, he's the strongest and he's the best so nothing will happen to me " that boosted his ego

You where furious when you found out that your husband took your daughter to a dangerous meeting that ended blowing up the whole building " but sweetie, it's nothing I can't handle, she save and onharmed "

" you let her hold a gun."

" that's because she hated the merchant " sylus said confidently

Looks like onychinus had a new leader soon after her dad step down

Would let her dress Mephisto up

Sylus would teach your daughter some boxing moves

Would try to fit all of you guys in his motorcycle , your daughter in front , placing her hand on the handle while your husband hand on top of hers and you always being sylus backpack

Would have customized helmets with your names on it

Sylus would let her daughter play with his hair and stick some stickers on him and if he feels generous ( which he is toward you and your daughter ) he'll even let your daughter put make up on him

Luke and Kieran would be the best uncles . Would like to join her uncles with pranks

Love doing karaoke with her dad .both can't sing well and are death ears

Sylus would buy the whole arcade just for her daughter

Plays kitty cards with your daughter and always lose on purpose

Sylus is definitely the type to give anything her daughter fancies. She looked firearm for 5 second? Is already here with her name on it of course with no bullets . Or else he wouldn't have hear the end of it from you

Would definitely sign a no boyfriend till your married

Like and karien are your daughter personal bodyguards

Would prepare a fancy ball for her birthday

Would play the piano for her also teaching her some keys

End up hitting the post button while middle way writing 😅sorry for grammar mistakes and words.

[chiumii]

hii can you do something like a corruption kink with any enha hyung line membet you want and like virgin reader? where they're like lowkey going wild over the fact that she's a virgin and can't wait to corrupt her and stuff. sorry if this makes no sense or you don't want to write it, i totally get it if you don't. thanks and have a nice day <3

corruption ~ enha hyung line

if the enha hyung line would have a corruption kink or not , and the extent of which how badly they want to ruin your innocence and take you for themselves.

enha hyung line x reader | corruption kink

warnings : semi smut , corruption kink , multiple positions , daddy kink , sub / dom dymanic , breeding kink , dacryphilia , degrading , praise , size kink , this kinda sucks , not proof read

LEE HEESEUNG .ᐟ ----- ♡

I feel like heeseung would have a corruption kink - but only to a certain extent and only for you.

the two of you have been dating for a couple months now , and everything has been so blissful and sweet... apart from your sex life.

every time the two of you make out and things get heated , you always shy away and make up an excuse not to do anything sexual.

he is so patient with you though and would never get mad at denying any sort of sexual intimacy , he is such a sweet boyfriend ugh I love him sm.

but one day , the two of you are making out , and his fingers slide up the fabric of your skirt , your skin leaving goosebumps trailing on your skin.

just as he's about to reach your underwear , you whine and break the kiss. your lips wet and swollen as you catch your breath before you speak in a whisper.

"I-im not ready" heeseungs eyes open and meet with yours , his lips also swollen and hungry.

"wassa matter baby ? you can tell me angel , im here to listen" your face turns a shade redder than it already was and you sit back a little on his lap , shifting uncomfortably. your eyes dart away to look anywhere else but him . his fingers rub gentle patterns on your thigh , coaxing you to calm your nerves.

"im... uhm... im not- I dont know.. god this is embarrassing," you face palm and bite your lip. heeseungs ears perk up , his mind racing at your words.

he's had a suspicion about the topic at hand , he's just been waiting for you to confirm it.

and oh god does this make things so much better for him.

his own personal , little baby to corrupt and ruin . the thought of taking your virginity for himself and showing you how to have sex , teach you how to use your pretty mouth makes his dick harder than ever.

you feel his cock harden underneath you , and your eyes widen in shock, your hips squirming in his hold.

"h-heeseung... im- I dont know how... ive never done anything.." you shake your head and cover your face in embarrassment once more.

heeseung brings your hands down from your face and force you to look at him, both of your faces red.

"I don't care angel ... I'll take care of you, kay'?" one of his hands trail to your thigh, trailing upwards once more.

"I'll make you feel good baby , so so good..." his fingers met with your damp panties , pressing them against your clothed bundle of nerves

"you'll be beggin' me to stop.."

he would finger you on his lap to prep you, your first orgasm rushes over you , and you can't help but fall apart on his lap underneath his control.

after making you come undone on his lap , he would force you onto your back and eat you out , lapping and sucking your juices like a starved animal , showing you just how good he can make you feel

he never wants to stop ever because you have such a sweet , sweet taste.

"my pretty girl has such a sweet taste , such a good girl for me baby , you gonna cum again my love ? wanna cum for me angel ?"

the though of having a perfect , little virgin right in the palm of his hand coming undone all for him and because of him quite literally makes him cum in his boxers , and he hasnt even touched himself yet !

ugh how he can't wait to fuck your tight , soaked pussy and make you drool all over him with the dumbest , braindead look on your face makes him hot and heavy - so that's exactly what he does.

PARK JONGSEONG ----- .ᐟ ♡

oh yes he would 100% have a corruption kink , and its BAD bro.

the two of you are just friends , but its so obvious that you have a crush on each other .

some sick and twisted part of Jay stops him from confessing first - wanting to see just how worked up he gets you before you fall apart in frustration.

that's the sadistic side of him.

you always go to him with your frustrations - and recently , its been about how you can't get yourself off no matter what toy you use - and you have a pretty good collection.

"I dont know what im doing wrong ! im so- ugh. I can't do anything by myself and I dont even have a boyfriend to help me. the guy I like doesn't like me back and it's so frustrating" you take a deep breath , your cheeks coated in a deep , pink blush before you continue

"I want... I wanna be able to pleasure myself so badly - im so frustrated all the time , espically with the guy I like ! its so frustrating being around him he makes me so..." your eyes lock with his , and you swear your heart stops for a second.

Jay is man spreading on your bed - it would be a cute sight due to your cute stuffed animals surrounding him in your pink bedroom - but the look on his face makes you fold in on yourself and stutter over your words.

"I-i ... n- nevermind..." your arms cross over your stomach and you advert your eyes from his figure.

the reason you came to him was because you've been best friends since you were children , and a conversation like this was never awkward because you have told each other literally everything - when you hit puberty and you didn't even know how to put a tampon in , how much gooey blood there was - and none of it made jay feel weird , of course it wouldn't ! he could never feel weird around you.

Jay's thoughts are running wild , especially with the way your thighs are clamped together and rubbing against one another. you dont realize you're even doing it , and that thought makes him want to pin you down and use your body as he pleases.

"look at me." his demand causes you to jump , and you obey him with shy eyes. your eyes interlock with his and he tongues his cheek , eyeing you up and down.

hes had enough of this little game ; he's caught you inbetween his fingers and now here you were , squirming in the palm of his hand like a pathetic little mouse.

"you truly have no idea what you do to me, huh y/n?" you suck in a deep breath , your lips parting as he continues.

"you wanna know what I wanna do to you , sweet thing ?" your heart rate increases , your body frozen just a mere foot or two away from the man in front of you.

"oh so many disgusting , dirty thoughts come to mind." your eyes dont look away from his , not for a second as he continues.

"you think I didn't know about your little infatuation , y/n ? its so abundantly obvious , its honestly adorable how innocent you are."

"j-jay..." you say breathlessly. he chuckles at your words , but continues nontheless.

"you honestly think I didn't see you humping your pillow after I left your house ? how you whimpered my name so pathetically ? you still couldn't get yourself off huh baby ?" you shake your head without thinking .

"aww , my poor baby couldn't do it herself huh ?" you shake your head again.

"I went home that night and thought of all the positions I wanted to fold you in. how badly I wanted to use your body however I wanted." you whine at his words , your thighs rubbing against each other more harshly.

"I wanna eat your sweet pussy with my fingers fucking you from the inside out" he sits up and begins to crawl over to you, your heart rate picks up and you lean back on instinct. Jay chuckles , enjoying the little cat-mouse game you've begun to play.

"I wanna fuck and abuse you tiny cunt until your eyes roll into the back of your head , my name being the only thing you can remember" your back hits the mattress below you, Jay crawling over your small frame right after. his fingers come in contact with your damp panties under your pretty dress.

"tsk, so wet already, how pathetic." you whimper at his cruel words , but he feels your hole clamp and his eyes widen.

"I'm gonna make you cry all over me baby . want me to use your pretty body ? want fuck you dumb ? "

you nod your head , but that's not enough for jay.

"words, princess"

"y-yes daddy..." now its his turn to feel flustered, his cock straining in his jeans at your words.

"oh god , you're so perfect , such a good girl for me , a good girl for daddy hmm?" you nod your head , gasping as his cold fingers pull your panties to the side and run through your wet folds.

god he can't wait to strip you of your innocence and alter your mind to where you can't even process anything but him and him alone , forcing you into submission and mark you his and only his.

SIM JAEHYUN ----- .ᐟ ♡

I feel as though Jake wouldn't have much of a corruption kink - he would be more into the experienced women.... however, you would be the one and only exeption.

the two of you have been friends for a couple years , meeting through a mutual friend of yours , sunghoon. since the moment Jake has laid eyes on you , he knew he was fucked .

the two of you dont hang out one on one often , only a few times has it happened , deciding on the fact that hanging out in a friend group setting was more ideal.

he tried to get rid of the little crush he had on you , he really really did.

until one day you two had ran into each other while walking to class . you decided to hang out for the day and do some shopping .

Jake wishes he would have never ever agreed , because that day he figured out just how innocent you truly are .

you literally took him into a Victorias secret for fucks sake , and despite his protests and cherry red cheeks , his looks of lust mixed with embarrassment flew right over your pretty head .

what made the situation worse was a couple guys tried hitting on you after figuring out you were single - you were beautiful , of course you would get people hitting on you from time to time.

you were so oblivious to their remarks , that when they walked away , you literally said with your entire chest

"I made a new friend !" you were so cute , it took Jake all his restraint in his body from bending you over the display and fucking you raw.

his last bit of sanity slipped from his fingers when you were hanging out with all of your friends at jakes house. the topic of sex came up and everyone was talking about how they've had sex before , and Jake couldnt help but stare at you the entire time .

your cheeks were dusted red and you were shyly sitting with your knees pressed together , looking around the living room and avoiding the conversation.

"what about you y/n , you've ever had sex ?" sunoo wiggles his eyebrows

"dont make her uncomfortable dude , y/n dont listen to him" sunoo rolls his eyes at jays lecturing words . you purse your lips into a pout and look over at Jake , who is already staring at you , waiting for an answer

"actually.... im a virgin." you say , embarrassment laced in your tone. Jake feels his dick harden and his eyes widen. how could he have been so blind ? of course you were a virgin , you're so oblivious when guys hit on you , and you literally took him into a Victorias secret .

he feels his sanity snap the second the words leave your mouth , and he quickly ushers everybody out of his house , claiming that something came up and everybody has to leave.

you were about to leave , waving Jake a goodbye before you took a good look at him ; he was avoiding all eye contact with you and didn't say goodbye.

he was acting weird , and you had to get to the bottom of it.

"Jake , are you okay ?" worry written in your tone , it made Jake groan

"im fine y/n , ill see you later " he goes to close the door , but you push it open before it had the chance to click closed .

you push your way in, looking up at the man with a questioning look. you cross your arms over your chest and shift your weight onto one of your legs.

"Jake , please tell me what's wrong , did I do something" Jake groans again , and his patience is wearing unbearably thin as you question him.

"y/n please , I don't want to talk about it" the thought of you being a virgin is eating away at his morality , his entire demeanor shifting dark as you stand in his doorway .

he's two seconds away from lifting you into the air and throwing you down onto the nearest , comfortable surface and showing you how experienced he is , taking away your innocence and virginity and carving his name all over it , making you his in every way possible .

"please , im here for you" you go to reach for his hand , but are quickly met with the front door slamming right before being pushed up against it, Jake hovering over your smaller frame and trapping you with his arms .

your clit throbs , an unfamiliar feeling as he looms over you.

"you drive me so. fucking. insane." he speaks honestly , and your thighs clamp down and rub together , needing some sort of friction.

"you mean to tell me you dragged me into a lingerie shop , and had no idea that you were turning me on ?" you gulp at his words - you half knew what you were doing, and you're now starting to feel embarrassed for doing so.

"I-im... yun.." you whine, not being able to form a coherent sentence.

"im giving you two options; you can leave and our friendship will go back to how it was because its clear that this isn't normal , or you can stay" you're about to answer , but you're cut off before you can speak

"if you stay , im warning you now that you're not going to be able to walk out of here tomorrow" you dont answer , your voice cut too small in order to do so.

Jake takes your chin between his index and thumb finger , forcing you to tilt your head up to look him in the eyes.

"i'm gonna to make you scream my name and cum as many times as I want" his hand moves from the wall to your waist , pressing his front against yours , resulting in his hard cock pressing up against your thigh. you gasp , nodding your head quicker than you can think

"please- want you yun.. pl- yes.. wanna stay" that's all he needs before he's lifting you into the air , your legs wrapping around his front while your hands find their way to entangle in his hair.

his fingers work magic on your clit , your slick coating his digits perfectly

"so wet for me , you have such a pretty pussy baby" he kisses your bundle of nerves as he presses two fingers into your tight , wet cunt. your back arches off the bed as you approach your first orgasm in your life. you feel a weird sensation in your tummy and your hands frantically grab jakes shoulders

"o- oh my god I feel... please" you beg for something you aren't even sure of.

"c'mon darling , finish for me pretty girl" and so you do , squirting all over jakes face and bed and his eyes widen in shock. he coaxes you to relax before kissing your temple

"looks like I got a little squirter on my hands" he chuckles

"g-gentle please.." you shouldn't have said those words oh god , that only makes Jake want to be more rough , but he listens anyways as his thrusts are slow and concentrated . the way you're pussy is unbelievably tight and new is so, so taunting.

you hiss at the sting and before long , he's folded you in half and showing you all the right positions and angles , fucking you through your third orgasm of the night.

"y-yun feels so - ugh ff-uck" you squeal at the angle , his bulbous tip kissing your sweet spot with every thrust

"want me to fill you up with my cum sweet ? breed your tiny pussy ? oh god you're so small fuck " your back arches off the bed and you scratch his back , leaving trails of red blood.

"tell me how it feels baby , let go all over me" he speaks , demanding an answer

"f-feels so good , so full , mmmf , oh my god" you respond , your legs shaking in jakes hold and your eyes squeezed tight

Jake doesn't seem to care as you flutter around his cock , screaming as your fourth orgasm just about washes over you.

"please , want you to use me ! d-da... ddy please!" as if you couldnt be any more perfect , Jake chuckles before snapping his hips against your ass , your knees besides your head.

"dont worry baby , daddy's gonna take such good care of you . such a good girl , giving daddy your innocence , takin' me so well" you just about sob at his sweet words

letting Jake take your virginity was the best fucking thing that could have happened ever

PARK SUNGHOON ----- .ᐟ ♡

he has the worst corruption kink fucking ever dude it drives me INSANE

sunghoon is someone you met in a college class.

although he was reserved and somewhat cold , you tried to get along with him anyways , he was your seat partner after all.

it took a while for him to start getting comfortable with you and soon , the two of you became friends.

it took him way longer to let you in than most people because of how badly he wanted to fuck you.

yes, fuck you. the way you hold yourself was so cute. you were a shy one for sure. you were soft spoken and quiet - reserved in the exact same way he is and it would be a lie if you were to say you didn't find him attractive either.

a mature , strong man is all you needed - so you were bound to start lusting after him as he was you.

but you couldnt ruin such an early friendship , the two of you were starting to get to know each other and you didn't want to mess things up. the more you two hung out , the more you realized he was different with you than with other people he knew

more gentle in a way. how he would talk to you so soft and caring , he was the biggest sweetheart - especially to you.

but dont let his actions deceive you - his thoughts were definitely nothing like how he acts.

every lingering, soft touch on the small of your back makes him want to force you into an arch and pound into you from behind , pulling your hair and making you scream out his name.

bite and suck pretty little marks into your perfect skin, make you cream all over his cock as many times as he wishes as you lay down and take it like a good little girl.

every time you would get too close to him , resulting in getting a wiff of your vanilla perfume makes him want to force your legs apart and eat you out for hours until your too weak to move , yet still cumming all over his face.

you would send him a selfie of your makeup and outfit before starting your day , and each time you did that he would groan and rub one out

"fuck-" he moans , squeezing his tip in his palm as he looks at his phone screen - a beautiful picture of you - your hair is up in two curled ponytails , your glittery eyeshadow and wispy eyelashes make your doe eyes pop , and oh god your lips are pink and glossy , pouting as you snap the picture

he wishes he could stain your lips with his cum and stuff your cheeks full of his warm seed

he would face fuck you until you pass out due to lack of oxygen

his pearly beads of precum leak from his tip as he smears it down his shaft , using it as lubricant as he moans your name , imagining his hand was your mouth instead

he would teach you how to suck his cock and would be oh so patient with you. you would look into his eyes for praise and he would gift it to you gratiously

"such a good girl , taking my cock so well-"

"sunghoonie?" one of his friends breaks him out of his trance. you're in a group setting and one of his female friends is trying to talk to him- more so flirt.

he pays no mind to the girl, focusing on your figure instead.

the way your short skirt compliments your thighs makes him feel hot , and it doesn't help with the thigh highs you decided to wear along with the dainty article of clothing.

you're talking to Jake , who is flirting with you shamelessly. you are also paying him no mind as you're ears are focused on sunghoons conversation.

you feel anger bubble in your chest as this chick flirts with him. Jake notices your soiled face and says something about it. you mutter under your breath

"I got to go" before walking away and towards your apartment - which was just a couple minutes away. sunghoons eyes follow your figure and he up and leaves his conversation , not caring that he just ignored the girl.

"y/n , y/n wait " sunghoon catches up to you and grabs your wrist , spinning you around to face him. your face is contorted into one of anger , and sunghoon can't help but coo at your cute face

"what's the matter?" he pouts , your anger doesn't disperse though as you clench your jaw. you feel more embarrassment now because he actually followed you - you have no idea what to say.

"I don't know , I dont feel good" you lie through your teeth , and he catches it. sunghoon shrugs his shoulders and starts walking in the direction of your apartment , wrapping his arm around your back , his hand finding the slope of your waist and directs you towards your apartment.

you blush under his hold as you open your apartment door , letting the man in and following in right after.

"why did you get upset and storm off?" he asks , sitting down on your couch with his legs spread. you walk into the kitchen and grab a glass of water , chugging it before answering.

"I just wasn't feeling good" he raises his eyebrows at your lie , eyeballing you from across the room.

"are you sure about that?" your cheeks glow red and you shift uncomfortably under his gaze , fidgeting with your fingers.

"you have no clue huh?" you shoot him a questioning look, not quite picking up what he's putting down. he chuckles at your face , finding it adorable how you squirm just from him looking at you.

"about what?" you respond , sunghoons eyes grow dark , racking his eyes up and down his figure.

"tell me y/n , do you have any experience with guys?" your breath hitches at his question and you slowly shake your head back and forth, answering him. sunghoon smirks at you , bringing his hand into the air , motioning for you to come to him.

"come here, love"

you obey , walking over to him slowly and standing inbetween his spread legs. he sits up and places his hands on the hills of your waist , massaging gentle circles on your skin.

"tell me why you were upset" he looks up into your eyes and you can't help but feel like falling apart in his hands.

"that girl earlier... she was flirting with you.." your voice was above a whisper , but you answer anyways. sunghoon bites his cheek , his hands running down your body and towards your thighs. goosebumps trail on your skin at his touch.

"and you were jealous ?" you nod your head as an answer , sunghoon admiring your submission.

"you think I touch her like this hmm?" his hands move up your short skirt and towards the hem of your underwear, playing with the straps of your lacy thong. you shake your head , your chest heaving up and down.

"want me to tell you a secret?" you shake your head yes , not being able to find any words in your racing mind. sunghoon pushes you to sit in his lap , his hands coming to cup the plush of your ass under your skirt , playing with your underwear.

"ive been wanting to fuck you since the day I saw you. I masturbait to the selfies you send me every morning" you wrap your arms around his shoulders and neck , pressing your chest against his with a hushed moan , burring your face into the skin of his collarbone and neck. his hands move to your hips , guiding you to grind down onto his growing cock.

"do you fuck yourself thinking about me , little one?" you nod your head shamelessly , whimpering out a pathetic "yes". sunghoon moves his face to kiss up and down your bare neck, beginning to grind his hips up into yours for friction.

"have you ever came to the thought of me , pretty ? you ever cum to the image of me fucking you ?" you shake your head no , an embarrassing whine vibrating through his neck through your lips.

"my poor baby. needs daddy's help getting off hmm? can't do it yourself so you need daddy to do it for her huh?"

"y-yes please, need daddy's help making me cum"

so that's exactly what he does

over

and over

and over again

your first orgasm was gifted to you by sunghoon so sweetly , eating you out with your back flush against the couch with your panties pulled to the side , gifting you words of praise such as

"doing such a good job for me baby doll"

and

"just like that pretty girl , my perfect little girl"

earlier, you would have thought he was the sweetest person on earth, but that quickly changed as he has your ass in the air and your face down into the cushions of the couch , screaming his name over and over again

"d-daddy slow ! can-cant ,, too much please !" you squeal , but your cries are useless as he abuses your tiny hole.

"gonna make you mine , fill you up so nicely - ill put a fucking baby in you , want me to make you a mommy?" of course he's bluffing , god this was your first time having sex for fuck sake .

"y-yes please daddy fuck- need,, oh god please" your legs kick under him , your arms held in place by his hand behind your back. he chuckles at your words , his hips snapping against your ass in a rough pace that doesn't let up.

"who's pussy is this, who owns you doll?" you scream as you feel the coil in your abdomen unravel , sunghoon landing a harsh smack against your ass.

"you do ! daddy does !"

"that's right baby , daddy does. gonna fuck you dumb and take your goddamn innocence until you're a puddle in my hands."

[flowerxbunnie]

Tattoo artist matt 🫦 and he’s praising the reader and telling her she’s taking it really well 🫦🫦 and she gets addicted to it and keeps coming back for more tattoos 🫦🫦🫦 and he’s like ‘wow you’re single-handedly paying my bills, this one’s on the house’ 🫦🫦🫦🫦 and she’s like ‘no, i gotta pay you.’ 🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦 i think you know where i’m going with this

ps I love you 💋

Ink

Tattoo artist!Matt x Fem Reader

Warnings: needles, blood, pain, tension, no smut (yet?? 😏) but veryyyyyy suggestive at times

6.3k words

Your skin is tender and raw, a soft wince drawn from your mouth as your tattoo artist wipes the excess ink with a rough paper towel.

“So proud of this one,” Alex beams as she scoots back in her chair, the wheels rolling her towards her supply cart. She grabs a roll of plastic wrap and some tape before using her feet to roll back toward your chair. “Let’s get you all wrapped up.”

“It turned out so good, dude.” You say in awe as you hold your arm out to her.

“Did you expect any less?” She jokes, wrapping the wound snugly and taping it up before shooting you a smile. “All done. Keep the wrap on for a few hours. It’ll be a little leaky, that’s normal. Wash once a day with unscented soap… blah blah blah you know the drill. Still legally obligated to tell you.” She chuckles at the end, standing up to throw away her stained gloves. “Come up to the desk whenever you’re ready.” She says before she turns on her feet and heads to the front of the shop.

You stand up and gather your belongings feeling the adrenaline rush a new tattoo always seems to bring out of you. Your arm pulses and slightly burns, a sensation you’d become addicted to over the past couple of years. You’re not covered in ink by any means, but you’ve gotten your fair share, all done by Alex.

You love the way her shop feels more like a home than a sterile clinical office. Tapestries are hung haphazardly across the walls, strings of fairy lights sprawl across the ceilings and there’s more weird little knick-knacks strewn about than you could ever imagine counting. Your favorite is the preserved butterflies she has in shadow boxes lined down the hallway.

Once you gather your keys and bag, you take the walk to the front and admire all the sketches pinned along the walls. Alex is waiting for you with a warm smile as she tells you the total. You sit your bag down and rummage for your wallet, gathering the money along with a generous tip as always.

“You want the change back?” She asks as she counts the bills.

“Just take the fucking tip Alex.” You raise an eyebrow at her.

“You know you don’t have to do that,” she chuckles humbly, shaking her head as she sorts the cash into her vintage register.

“I know I don’t have to,” you laugh, tossing your wallet back into your bag, “I want to.”

You grab the strap of your bag and throw it across your shoulder, knocking a binder off the counter in the process. You let out a quiet curse as you bend down to pick it up, flipping it over to look at the cover.

“Oh, you should look through that!” Alex chimes in excitedly. “It’s a bunch of flash pieces that are up for grabs. They’re going quick, you should pick one out!”

“Oh nice..” you thumb through the pages, studying the intricate artwork tucked behind sheet protectors. “These are so good Alex..”

“You think?” She asks, bending down to restock her glass display cabinet with more tattoo salve.

You turn page after page, seeing traditional pieces like tigers and roses, more abstract watercolor pieces and some random goofy sketches of cartoon characters. You stop when you come across a snake separated into segments with the word ‘collarbone’ scratched underneath of it.

“This one is so detailed,” you say, running your fingers across the sheet protector. “Why’s it all broken up like that?”

Alex stands back up to her feet and looks over the page, her brows furrowing a bit as she adjusts her glasses. “Oh, it’s because it’s made to look like it’s wrapping around your collarbone. Like it’s going into your skin kinda.”

“Oh, sick,” You say excitedly, “I’ll take that one then. When can you get me in?”

“That’s not mine, girl. That’s the new guy’s design. You may have seen him here before? He transferred here like three…ish months ago?” She rambles as she sorts through a stack of paperwork.

You think back, not recalling seeing a different face in the shop. “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone new. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve been here and you usually get me in and out.” You pull the binder closer and admire the tiny detailing of the snake skin. “He looks pretty good.. but I don’t know if I can cheat on you.” You sigh jokingly.

“Honestly, he’s fucking amazing. His card is right there if you wanna make an appointment.” She points to a carousel of different artists’ cards. “Matt… the black card.. yep that’s it.”

You stick the matte black card in your bag and give Alex a humorous warning glare. “If he fucks my tattoo up Alex I swear to god.”

“Just make the appointment, Y/n. He’ll do good, promise. Why would I hire someone whose work I don’t trust?” She laughs and steps out from behind the counter, walking towards the door. “Now get out of my shop, I need to rest my eyes.” She laughs as she pulls the door open.

——————

You dig through your bag, pulling out hair ties, loose sticks of gum and countless receipts as you search for your favorite chapstick. “I swear I left it in here,” you think out loud, gasping as your finger slides across the corner of something sharp. You pull your hand back, sucking back a curse and see a tiny paper cut on your finger, laughing at the fact that something so small can hurt so bad. You reach back in and grab the culprit, a black sturdy rectangular card.

Fuck. It’s been 3 days.

You look over the card.

Matt Sturniolo

Appointments by text.

Come get somethin’ nice!

You pull out your phone and create a new contact, typing the 10 digit number slowly and double checking, making sure you got every single one right. You let out a sigh that you’ve been holding back, deciding to drop your worries, bite the bullet and make the appointment.

Alex won’t care, she doesn’t mind. She wants me to.

He thinks I’m a guy, funny, you think to yourself, locking your phone and sitting it on the counter.

—————

The week comes and goes, the same mundane routine dragging you through the creeping days. It’s finally Friday, meaning you’re risking the integrity of your skin on an artist you’ve never even met before, let alone vetted his work. Sure, he can draw a sketch but can he execute it just as well into your skin? The entire drive to the shop you shuffle through your playlist while your fingers absentmindedly tap against the steering wheel, mind racing with every possible outcome.

You sit in the parking lot, nerves at an all time high as you scroll through TikTok trying to numb your brain while the minutes pass. You quickly peek up to the clock on your dashboard, heaving a sigh.

5:32.

Fuck. I still have way too much time.

You groan quietly and put your phone down in your cupholder, leaning your head back against the headrest and close your eyes. Your left foot taps slowly against the footrest in your floorboard, creating a steady rhythm, pulsing along with your music that quietly hums in the speakers. You pick your head back up and grip the steering wheel with a huff, tracing your hands up and down around the warm leather.

Your eyes follow passersby as they stroll and pace down the sidewalk, essentially people watching. Your hand somehow makes its way to your mouth without realizing, your nails picking and pulling at the skin of your lips habitually. You only notice when you taste the bitter metallic flavor of blood on your tongue, silently scolding yourself as you pull down your vanity mirror.

You lick the wound and pull your sore bottom lip between your teeth, suddenly hyperaware of the shriveled, dehydrated state they’re in. Leaning across your car to reach for the glovebox, you pull it open and grab the lip oil you leave in your car for moments like this. You shut the glovebox and center yourself in the reflection of the mirror, opening the tube and applying a much too generous amount of the gloss to your lips. You smack and pucker your lips, appreciating the way they seem to come back to life, plump and slightly tinted.

You look to the side as you run your finger against the corner of your mouth, cleaning up your work. A small blackboard that sits outside the door of the shop catches your attention, propped up and smeared with chalked in words. It lists the information for an upcoming tattoo fair, has random small sketches littering the board, and lists a social media account near the bottom.

Follow us! @LoveBuzz on IG!

Why haven’t I ever thought of that?

You pick your phone up out of the cupholder after you slam your mirror shut, clicking the Instagram icon and typing the handle into the search bar. You click on the account, seeing that Alex’s individual account is linked at the top as well as a piercer, Darren, who you’ve met a couple of times. You scroll down through the feed, seeing copious photo collages of fresh versus healed ink and videos with music edited into the background, featuring Alex working her magic in the shop.

You scroll past a reel of Alex promoting a clean brand of tattoo healing balms, your finger coming to a still as you land on a video of a man hunched in his chair, his body leaning over as he works a tattoo gun into someone’s leg. You can’t make out much of him from the video, but he’s clad in a stone washed black t-shirt and jeans littered with ink stains. Tattoos sprawl across his left arm that pulls at the person’s skin, holding it steady as he moves the dripping needle back and forth. Though his face isn’t visible, you notice his wispy, umber brown hair that falls forward as he works. Light catches the strands and outlines each wave as they cascade over his brow bone. Scrolling down, you read the caption.

“Matt may be new but he is making himself well known in the shop! Text him to book, slots are filling up fast!”

You scroll further and find more pieces done by Matt but can’t seem to find a tagged account. Your shot nerves are soothed a bit as you examine each flawless piece of art, every one of them so perfect it’s almost like a printed photo taped to skin. You can’t deny that the man is talented. You scroll down until you reach the very first photo that mentions his name, dated three months ago just like Alex had said.

Maybe I do trust him.

You break yourself from the distraction of your phone and check the time again, quickly fixing yourself in the mirror as you realize you need to head in immediately. Your soft fingers brush down the wild flyaways in your hair in an attempt to look as put together as possible. Grabbing the handle of your bag and slinging it across your shoulder, you turn off the ignition and step out of your car, making sure to lock the doors behind you.

You feel the ground beneath your feet meeting your body in shockwaves with each step you take towards the familiar building. In the reflection of the glass you watch your figure grow closer. You let out one last deep exhale as you grip the iron handle, pulling it open and feeling the cool air shoot across your skin.

As you step in and the door falls closed behind you, you take notice that the front desk is unoccupied. Distinct chatter can be heard over the music playing in the studio just down the hall and past the foyer, deep rumbling tones that you can’t piece together. You’re familiar enough with the shop that you feel comfortable going back without a so-called escort, so you grip the handle on your shoulder and begin the walk down the dimly lit hallway.

The walls open up into the studio and the music is so loud it almost vibrates your skin. You step closer to the source of the voices, one of them being the piercer you’re familiar with. He stands talking expressively with his hands to another man who sits with his back facing you, arms behind his head as he leans back into his chair.

“Is Matt here?” You question, looking around the rest of the studio.

The men continue on with their conversation, completely unaware you’d even said anything over the racket of the rock music. Clearing your throat, you step forward, just about six feet away from them at this point and speak up once again.

“Is anyone working the desk right now?”

The piercer turns his head to face you and the man in the chair spins around, planting his feet to stop himself.

His blue eyes catch your attention first, so bright the gaze is almost difficult to keep. But you do, and so does he. He drops his hands down from the back of his head, one of his arms coming to lay on the armrest of his chair and the other stroking the stubble that peppers his chin. The tattoos across his left arm in contrast to the blank one on the right tell you that this is your guy, this is Matt.

What you don’t know is how he feels his blood pumping hot at the sight of you. He does his best to keep his eyes above your shoulders, but he can’t help letting them wander down your supple, shining skin, immediately thinking about how soft it must be. Matt sees so many women everyday, some in very compromising positions, but just the sight of you standing in front of him has made him feel weak. The way you look so innocent and bright, juxtaposing the way you’re standing in front of his sketches of skulls and anatomically correct organs being feasted on by animals.

You feel a wave of awkward silence even through the intense bass sounding through the speakers. You ask once again if anyone is working the front desk, but your voice struggles to overpower the volume. You see Matt’s cheeks pull up into a chuckle as he reaches back around to the table, fishing for his phone and clicking the volume down considerably.

You huff, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice as you repeat yourself for the fourth time. “Is anyone working the front?”

“I’m sorry honey, we don’t take walk ins.” He rasps as he shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans. “You’ll need to make an appointment.”

“I have one.” You retort, resting your weight on one of your legs.

The bearded man walks away to his piercing station, leaving the two of you in a sort of awkward staredown.

“Alex is out today, and I’m expecting a guy to be walking in any minute for my next appointment. Are you sure yours was for today?” He asks smoothly.

“You’re Matt right?”

His shoulders tense when you say his name, but he relaxes them as he nods his head. “Yeah, I’m Matt.”

“Oh, well then yeah.. I’m Y/n. Collarbone snake for 6 o’clock.” You clarify, pulling out your phone to ensure you had the date and time right.

His eyes widen and he silently scolds himself for assuming something so bold while being utterly wrong.

“Yeah, here it is.” You turn your phone to face him, stepping closer.

“I must have been tipsy when I replied or something,” he laughs and sits up in his chair, running his hands through his hair to soothe his embarrassment. “I assumed you’d be a dude for some reason.”

“No, at least not since the last time I checked.” You giggle, tossing your phone into your crowded bag.

His laugh gives you a sense of satisfaction, his hands coming up to rub his eyes as he catches his breath. “Shit, that’s my bad then.” He says while pushing himself up to stand, his arms flexing under the tight sleeves of his shirt.

“No worries.” You give him a genuine smile, not wanting him to feel any more embarrassed than you can already tell he is from his flushed cheeks.

He steps forward with a long stride, his frame much larger and taller than you expected once he passes you to head to the hallway. He tries to ignore the way his pulse quickened with the way you beamed up at him moments before, walking quickly to the front desk.

You follow behind, breathing in the lingering scent his cologne leaves in his trail. Stepping in front of the counter as he grabs a stack of haphazardly sorted papers, you grab a pen from the cup in front of you.

He slides them over to you, groaning as he flips them so they’re facing your direction. “Might not be much help reading them upside down.” He chuckles. “Alright, so I’m assuming you know the drill, yeah?” He nods his head at your arms, eyes flickering over the ink.

“Mhmm..” you hum as you concentrate on crossing off and initialing boxes stating you don’t have any medical conditions hindering you from getting tattooed.

Matt watches in silence as you skim over the pages, twisting the pen between your small fingers. He places both hands on the ledge in front of him and moves ever so slightly closer, enough to watch your lashes as they brush your cheeks with each blink. If he got any closer you’d probably feel his breath hitting your skin.

You print and sign your name on the bottom of the last page, capping the pen and tossing it back into the cup. He’s stepping back as you look up at him with the papers outstretched, deciding ogling over you isn’t a very professional first impression.

“My ID is already on file.” You say as he takes the stack and turns to the side to run them through the scanner.

“Well look at you, smart girl huh?” He jokes, pressing buttons to send the papers through the machine.

You feel warmth creeping up your neck and across your cheeks as the words fall from his lips. “I mean,” you pause with a giggle, “Alex is my only artist so I know she’s got everything she needs from me.”

“And you’re cheating on her with me?” He chuckles softly as he steps out from behind the counter, turning to head back towards the studio. “Let’s get this started, shall we?” His voice is quiet, his back to you as he walks ahead.

Matt’s shirt is stretched thin across his broad shoulders, and you absentmindedly let your eyes sink down his arms, following the veins that trail from them into his hands as they swing. His walk is confident and steady, unwavering.

Part of him wishes he had let you walk ahead of him so he could selfishly glue his eyes to your legs, drinking up the way your shorts hug them perfectly. But he has to keep this professional, you’re just a customer.

He walks to his table, gripping a handle and maneuvering the headboard so that you’ll be partially sitting, partially leaning back. “Go ahead and have a seat for me.” He gestures you to the table.

You sit your bag in your lap as you adjust in the seat, a chill running through you as the cold textured leather presses against your back. Matt stands over his supply cart, looking back and forth between you and a few sheets of paper.

“I printed a few stencils but they’re all man sized..” he laughs, crumpling them up and tossing them into his trash bin. “I’m gonna have to free hand it.”

Your eyes widen as he grabs a marker off the top of the cart and pulls the lid off with his teeth, scooting his rolling chair up to your table. “Uhh.. are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Honey…” he laughs, his head falling forward before he looks up at you with a grin. “You know I sketched the design free handed, right?”

You silently curse yourself and do your best to laugh it off, but you definitely made yourself feel incredibly dumb. Somehow he switched the mood and made it feel like he was laughing with you instead of at you, though.

“Alright… first let me…” he trails off, looking around his table before replacing the marker with a fresh razor. “I know you don’t have chest hair, but I kinda have to clear the canvas regardless.” He gives you a humored smile.

He pulls his chair up, his left hand brushing your hair off of your shoulder and down your back. He grabs your tank top strap with a clenched jaw, slowly sliding it down your shoulder. His fingers feel like jolts of electricity on your skin, like he shouldn’t be touching you, but also like you want more.

He’s a tattoo artist. Alex touches me everytime she does one of my tattoos. There’s nothing weird about it, stop making it weird.

You gulp and hope that your cheeks haven’t given away your feelings as he gets the strap out of his way and leans closer. You look forward, desperately trying to avoid eye contact with Matt as he slowly drags the razor across your skin.

“Alright there’s that.” He spins around and tosses the razor in the trash can, grabbing the marker once more. “Gonna sketch it out roughly right quick. It won’t look as detailed right now but I’ll add ‘em in later.” He mumbles as he tilts his head, bringing the marker to your collarbone.

Matt drags the marker across your skin with furrowed brows as he perfects the curvature of the snake to look like it’s wrapping around your bone. He can smell your sweet perfume permeating from your body, so close he can almost sniff out the individual notes. “You smell like candy.” He blurts out before he can stop himself. He bites down on his lip, shutting his eyes for a moment before he gets straight back to sketching, hoping you didn’t find it odd.

“Thank you!” You beam, “Funny enough it’s actually Prada Candy. I love it.”

He hums in response and finishes up his outline, rolling back to look at it from further away. “Sit up for me right quick.” He instructs and you listen. He nods his head, approving of his placement and sketch. “Let’s make sure you like it first.” He turns to the side and grabs a handheld mirror off his cart. He holds it out to you, his fingertips brushing yours as he hands it off.

“I love it! It’s the perfect size. Even just the sketch looks so good.” You grin as you study the purple ink in the mirror. You smile as you hand the mirror back to him, taking notice of the subtle curve of his lips.

“Great then. Already got the machine all set up and the ink wells filled. You ready?” He asks with raised eyebrows.

The look on his face tells you that you might have bitten off more than you can chew. “I… think I’m ready. Should I be worried?”

He sucks his teeth as he looks down with a stifled smirk. “Well… the collarbone isn’t the most pleasant place to get a needle jammed into your skin, I’ll leave it at that.”

You look to him with wide eyes. You’d never even considered how painful it might be, all of your other tattoos being on your arms and lower legs. “Matt, you’re scaring me.” You nervously laugh.

His stomach does a flip when you say his name for the second time today. He shoved the feeling down and reaches over, grabbing the tattoo gun in his right hand and turning it on briefly. The vibration sounds throughout the room and he assures it’s in good working condition before shutting it back off and looking up at you. “I think you’re a brave girl, you can take it.” He says lowly but causally as he rolls up next to the table, resting his left arm next to your shoulder.

The way Matt’s words fall from his lips like honey makes your skin feel as if it’s being licked with flames. You look down as he flips the gun on once again and dips the needle into the pitch black ink, the fluid dripping onto the table as he slowly raises it toward you.

“You’re gonna have to turn a little.” He almost whispers as he uses his left hand to guide your jaw to the side, giving him better access to your skin. “Alright, there we go.” He leans in as he brings the needle down into your skin, a sharp scratching and stinging pain making you gasp lightly. “You good?” He asks in a caring tone as he lifts the gun back up and scans your pained expression.

“Yeah, yeah.. I’m okay.” You breathe out. “Feels a lot different than arms and legs.”

You see him nod silently and lower the needle back to the surface of your skin, slowly pressing all the way down until he’s drawing the solid outline. He adjusts his left arm and places his warm hand onto your shoulder, his fingers gripping and pulling at the skin to keep it taut. He glances up at your face every now and again as he tattoos you, his view of your side profile and jawline begging him to keep looking. “You can move your head now. Got that upper outline all done.”

You turn your head to look at him, a smile pulling at your cheeks when you see he’s already looking up at you with hooded lids. He flashes you a small crooked grin before dipping his head back down and working on the rest of the outline. You squirm in your chair as the needle moves and works across your flesh, the area growing hot and tender.

You see a thin sheen of sweat forming on his arms under the heat of his overhead light, illuminating every dip and valley through the rolling veins on his hands. His wrist moves back and forth as he maneuvers the machine, his lip bitten between his teeth. Every few minutes his body must become sore because he moves his legs, adjusting in his seat before he brings his grip back to your shoulder.

He concentrates as he finishes the last of the outlining details, sitting up against the backrest of his chair and putting the gun down on his cart. “All done with the outline.” He smiles.

“Really?” You marvel excitedly. You peer down to take a look but huff once you realize you can’t bend your neck enough to get a good view.

Matt takes notice and leans over to grab the handheld mirror off his cart, except his left hand finds a spot atop your knee, sliding gingerly down your calf as he stretches toward his cart. As soon as his touch is there it’s gone. He leans back toward you and hands you the handle, smiling when you examine it in the mirror. “What do you think?”

You won’t lie to yourself, your pulse quickened when his hand brushed down your leg. Your only hope is he doesn’t notice the trail of goosebump he left behind in the absence of his touch. You struggle to find words, your mouth hanging open before you eventually find your voice. “I.. uh… l-looks really good.”

He exhales a small chuckle as he turns to switch the outlining needle for a shading needle. “Let me know if you need a break before I start this part.” He mumbles as he dips the set of needles into the well of ink.

You quickly shake your head. “Nope, get it over with.” You say flatly, closing your eyes. Shading is hit or miss, it either feels super relieving or like you’re getting shredded with a freshly sharpened cheese grater.

“That’s a good girl. All in one go, hm?” He murmurs as he scoots closer yet again.

He did not just say that. I’m thinking too much into this.

You give him a light chuckle and suck air in through your teeth once the needles meet your skin.

“Shhh.. you’re doing good. A lot better than a lot of crybaby men that have been on my table.” He coos as he drags the ink over the raw, bleeding skin.

If it wasn’t Matt you’d be much more of a mess. You’d probably be damn near in tears. But you can’t seem weak around him, so you bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut as he shades and details the design. Your hands clench the air until your knuckles are white and throbbing, your body needing to release energy into anything other than the pain you’re in.

“Squeeze my arm if you need to. I don’t mind.” Matt proposes, stilling his movement and brushing his brown waves out of his eyes before looking at you expectantly.

You gulp and move your shaking hands to his bicep, wrapping your dainty fingers around the expanse of it lightly.

“C’mon, give me more than that.” He chuckles, “Just don’t squeeze hard enough that I fuck up your ink.”

You grip into his arm with more pressure, feeling his muscles expand and contract under his skin as he moves his forearm.

Thank god Darren left earlier. This looks so… personal.

When a small strained whimper slips out of your mouth he clears his throat, blinking hard as he wipes the tattoo with the paper towel in his left hand. He knows it’s because of the pain, he knows he shouldn’t enjoy the sound. But he does.

He can’t help himself as he finishes up the rest of the tattoo. He finds himself pressing the needle into your skin with more pressure than necessary, enough to draw more pretty sounds out of you and make you grip onto his arm. Enough for you to throw your head back onto the leather of the table, squirming your legs as you squeeze your eyes shut. He’d never do anything to mess up the integrity of his art, but god does he want to. He knows it’s wrong that his pants grow tighter with every move you make, every curse you let out as he pushes more and more ink into your skin. He sees this everyday, why is it affecting him like this?

The angel on his shoulder tells him to get the tattoo done, work fast and get you off his table. The devil on his other tells him to keep you here writhing and squeezing at him for as long as he can. His eyes drift across your sweaty face, your wet baby hairs sticking to your forehead. Your chest rises and falls as he digs in, taking his time to let the needle drag. His mind floods with sin, his hands desperately aching to pull the neckline of your tank top even a millimeter lower.

Your harsh squeeze to his arm snaps him out of his stream of thought, realizing he’d been keeping this on for too long, causing you unnecessary pain. Lifting the needle from your skin, he examines the finished piece for a moment. “All done.” He says flatly, pulling his arm from your grasp to set the machine down on his cart.

“Fuck… that was intense.” You breathe out, turning your head toward him.

“Mmm but you did great. Sat so well.” He praises as he grabs a bottle of cleaning solution.

You have no time to react before he’s squirting the liquid onto your collarbone, a harsh pulsing sting deep in your skin. “Oh that’s… fucking horrible.” You do your best to laugh through the sting.

He laughs along with you, nodding while he lets his eyes watch the droplets that flow down your chest and into the valley of your cleavage. He tears his eyes away and looks at his cart, scoffing when his box of paper towels proves empty. “Gotta go get some more paper towels,” he holds up the box, “be right back.”

“I won’t move a muscle.” You giggle and lean back onto the table.

He offers a quick smile before standing up, quickly turning around and walking to the utility closet across the studio. Once inside and out of view, he lets his hand wander down to the waistband of his jeans, slowly trailing lower to brush over his throbbing erection. He knows this is bad. He’s never had this kind of reaction to a client, and he can’t be crazy. He knows he’s seen you looking too.

He lets his rough fingertips push his shirt up and dip beneath his jeans and boxers, grabbing ahold of his pulsing cock with a slow, shaking breath. He pulls it up and tucks it into his waistband, knowing he can’t let you see the struggling tent in his pants when he walks back into the studio.

He quickly grabs a new sterile stack of paper towels and fills the empty box, sighing deeply before he begins the walk back to his station.

“They were up on a high shelf huh? Had to find a ladder?” You joke, poking fun at the fact he took longer than expected.

“Oh yeah. Had to call the fire department actually. Like when there’s a cat stuck in a tree.” He quips back with a laugh, sitting down and letting his chair roll closer to you.

He rubs the cleaning solution away and beams at his work. He may have taken longer than he needed, but damn if you didn’t get an insanely detailed snake piece. He grabs a package of Saniderm from his cart and peels the backing off, slowly applying it to the raw skin. “Leave this on for like two or three days, you can shower in it, sleep in it, the whole nine yards. It’ll start lifting and you’ll know it’s time to take it off.”

“Hmm.. Alex always uses plastic wrap.” You say questioningly, peering down at the clear bandage.

“That’s because she’s old.” He says matter of factly, peeling his gloves off and tossing them in the trash.

“She’s 35!” You chuckle and smack his shoulder.

“Yeah… old.” He replies as he fishes into his pocket. “Gotta get a picture of this, it turned out so sick.” He pulls his phone out and opens his camera, zooming in until he has the right angle and snapping a photo.

“Don’t post that, I bet I look busted.” You whine, sitting up and stretching your back.

“Well sweetheart, your face isn’t in the picture. But for the record, I think you look pretty good for a girl who just got a metric fuck ton of ink shoved into her collarbone with a needle.” He says as he shoves his phone back into his pocket.

Your breath hitches inaudibly in your throat, heat lapping at your cheeks.

I have to play it cool. He didn’t call me pretty. He’s saying I took the tattoo well, that’s all.

“Thanks, Matt.” You smile, throwing your legs off the table and letting your feet hit the floor.

“After you.” He gestures his arm out as he stands, knowing he has to take the opportunity to walk behind you this time.

You sling your bag over your shoulder and walk down the hallway, feeling his eyes bore into the back of your head the entire way.

Except his eyes bore into everything he missed out on earlier. Your toned, smooth calves and up to your plush thighs that wiggle as you walk. The curve of your ass in your shorts. The way your hips sway with each step, taunting his still half-hard member.

You reach the front desk and peek into the mirror on the wall to the left of it, admiring the fresh ink. You can’t stop ogling at it as he prints out a receipt, walking up to the register and silently watching you. You turn your head to him and mumble an “oops”, stepping back to the center of the desk and grabbing the receipt from him. “Only $120?” You exclaim, widening your eyes as you look up to him.

He gives you a light nod and a shrug, brushing his hand through his fluffy waves. “You took it like a champ. Plus, I know you’ll be back. Gotta give that recurring customer discount, right?”

You know your cheeks are fire engine red at this point as you dig for your wallet, feeling as if you’re taking too long.

Am I being crazy or is that flirting? He’s flirting, right?

You open your wallet and dig out the cash, adding a generous tip to the stack before you hand it over. “I really appreciate it, Matt.”

“Not a problem. You have my number if you need anything else.” He returns as he sorts the cash into the register. He flicks his eyes back up and meets yours, a brief, almost-too-long moment of eye contact held between you two.

You blink hard a few times before clearing your throat and nodding, stepping back from the counter. “You got it. Thanks again.”

You turn on your feet and head for the door, pushing it open while your brain spins with thoughts of your encounter.

What the fuck was that?

—————

authors note: part two??? lmk 😈😈😈

taglist: @solarsturniolo @lustfulslxt @whotfisade @soursturniolo @recklesssturniolo @worldlxvlys @chrisolivia4l @kiarastromboli @mattnchrisworld @cupidsword @kvtie444 @xplrfear @knowingnothingnoel @karlybbx @chrisfavoritepepsi @mwah0mwah @starsturniolo @christinarowie332 @fionaheartswomen @angelic-sturniolos111 @mqttittude @sturniolowhore @luv4kozume

[theonottsbxtch]

Hello! I would like to ask a Latina reader with bf Max where is Christmas’s and her aunts keeps asking her where the boyfriend at and why she doesn’t have a boyfriend until max shows up and greets everyone, also can we make her cousins fans of f1, can everything be based in Mexico? Please wand thank you, this is my first request and I’m kinda excited, I love your writing! ❤️

MI NOVIO, MAX VERSTAPPEN | MV1

an: nonnie this was such a lovely request, thank you! i hope you like it and i hope i lived up to your standards. it was the first thing i saw when i woke up this morning and i've was slowly working on it throughout the day. i hope that this lets you build the confidence to send more requests through! also all this spanish knowledge is from when i did spanish 5 years ago in school so i apologise if its bad/if the mexican traditions are incorrect!

requests: open

wc: 2.5k

When Max had told you he couldn’t make Christmas you weren’t that upset, at first. But the longer you spent in Mexico while he was in Monaco, the more you were beginning to feel the sadness seep into your bones. 

Walking home arm in arm with your mama after midnight mass, you laid your head on her shoulder, looking up at the stars as they were twinkling in the overhead sky. 

“Hija, when are you going to bring someone home?” Your mama asked, looking down at you. This was the one topic you wanted to avoid this Christmas. While you knew that it was bound to come up, missing Max and the classic yearly conversation weren’t a good mix. Before you could stop them, you could feel the tears line your lower lash line. 

“No sé mama (i don't know mum)” you muttered. You and Max had first started dating about two and a half years ago, but there was a commitment with bringing home, a commitment you weren’t too sure either of you could handle. Bringing home made it almost permanent and while you knew you and Max were going to be permanent. You didn’t if he was ready for that. 

No matter how many times he said he was ready, there was something about introducing him to your family and culture that didn’t sit right with you. To start, he wasn’t Mexican and you weren’t too sure how your mama would react to that. Second, you knew that if you brought him over once, your mama would want him to come all the time and with the schedule he had, you didn't want him to feel forced to do anything he didn’t want to do. 

“Tu hermana, she has Léo. Y tu hermano, he has Rebecca.” She stated, you knew where she was going with this. “I don’t want you to be alone.” 

“I’m okay mama, I promise” you said, looking away from the sky for a second and looking at her, praying she didn’t notice the way your eyes were sparkling. 

“Ay, please don’t think I am forcing you hija. I just want you to be happy.” She rubbed your arm in comfort. 

Just as you opened your mouth to answer, your sister let go of her husband’s arm and came barrelling towards you and your mother. “Mama, please don’t tell me you’re pestering her about a boyfriend again” 

“I am not!” Your mum huffed. 

“You totally were! Leave her alone, mama. She’s happy, she’s working in France. What more could you want?” She chided, unlike you, your elder sister never had a problem with telling your mother the facts as they were. In fact, she was the only one who knew about you and Max. The only one out of your hundreds of family members. Pulling you away, she linked her arm in yours and walked a step further from your mother.

“You’ll have to tell her one day, you know.” She said softly, “you can’t keep hiding him out of fear that he’ll break up with you the minute you show him your family.” 

“I don’t think he’s ready.”

“Have you asked him, I’m sure he’d disagree if you asked.” The way your sister said that made you feel stupid. It was such a simple task, but you didn’t know how to go about it. 

“Look, manita . It’s Christmas. We’re about to have a very long dinner. I miss him and would like it if we stopped talking about him.” You rushed out, it was better said that way. 

Huffing out a dramatic huff, she pushed a piece of hair that had fallen into your eyes away. “Whatever you say, chiquita.” 

By the time you’d reached your family home, the place was bustling with action. From your little cousins running in between the elders legs as they helped set up the table to your grandparents shouting from the sofa in front of their telenovela. 

“Abeula, come eat.” You called out to your grandmother who was slowly getting up from her seat directly in front of the television. 

Before you, the table was covered in a variety of your favourite foods; tamales, buñuelos and romeritos. It was a sight to take in, this was why you didn’t mind the 12 hour flight every christmas. The table has fifteen odd seats that were rapidly filled with all your grandparents, both you parents, two siblings and their partners, and your three elder cousins. Besides the big table, there was a smaller table with six seats for all your little cousins, who themselves were already digging into their food before making their prayer.

At the head of your table, your abuelo linked his hands with either abuelo and abuela on each side and waited for all of you to link hands.”Bendícenos Señor, y bendice estos alimentos que vamos a recibir, y que nunca falte en nuestra mesa el pan de cada día."

Once the prayer was over, you muttered a quick “Gracias a Dios” and tucked into your food. You were surrounded by the sounds of laughter and conversation, but your mind kept wandering to Monaco. To him. It had been weeks since you last saw each other, the time difference making your late-night calls even harder to sustain. You had both promised to make it work over this Christmas period, but the ache in your chest hadn’t lessened. It was always there, especially now, as you sat at this table surrounded by family, feeling like a piece of you was missing.

The food was delicious—the tamales were just as perfect as you remembered, the buñuelos warm and crispy, their sweetness filling the room—but even the familiar flavours couldn’t fully shake the quiet sadness. You poked at the romeritos on your plate, trying to focus on the sounds of your little cousins giggling at their own table, but it was impossible to ignore the empty feeling you were cradling in you. He should be here.

“Are you okay?” your sister whispered beside you, nudging your arm. She always knew when something was off.

“Yeah, just tired,” you mumbled, managing a weak smile. You knew she wasn’t convinced, but thankfully it was believable since it was almost one in the morning.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. It was loud enough to catch everyone’s attention, and for a moment, the table fell silent, all heads turning toward the front of the house.

Your mamá began to rise from her seat, but your sister shot up faster, her movements quick and purposeful.

“I’ll get it!” she said with a wide grin that you couldn’t quite understand.

Confused, you glanced at her. “Why are you so—?”

“Why don’t you open it?” she interrupted, her eyes sparkling with something mischievous. Before you could protest, she was already pulling you up by the arm, practically dragging you toward the door.

“Manita, what—” You barely had time to question her as you stumbled toward the front of the house, your heart suddenly racing. Your fingers hesitated on the doorknob, a strange sense of nervousness washing over you.

With a deep breath, you twisted the knob, and as the door creaked open, your world stopped.

There he was—Max—standing on the doorstep, dressed in his classic white shirt and jeans, his suitcase at his feet, looking ridiculous compared to you in your nice dress. His face was lit up with the biggest smile you had ever seen, his eyes bright with excitement. The warm Mexican air framed him, but all you could feel was the warmth that flooded your chest the moment your eyes met his.

“Feliz Navidad,” he said softly, his Spanish still as atrocious as when you’d last seen him, his voice full of affection.

For a second, you just stood there, frozen in disbelief. Your mind struggled to catch up with your heart, which was already racing. Max was here. After all those weeks apart, after all the lonely nights spent staring at your phone—he was actually here.

Without another thought, you flung yourself into his arms, tears welling up in your eyes as you buried your face in his chest. The warmth of his embrace was overwhelming, and the scent of his cologne—a familiar mix of cedar and something faintly sweet—was like coming home.

“You’re here,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you clung to him tightly. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

He kissed the top of your head, his arms wrapping securely around you as if he never wanted to let go. “I told you I wouldn’t miss this. I needed to be with you, liefje.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your hand trembling as you brushed your fingers along his cheek, making sure this wasn’t a dream. He smiled down at you, his eyes full of nothing but love, and you couldn’t help but laugh through the tears.

“I can’t believe you did this,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I couldn’t wait any longer,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I wanted to surprise you. I wanted to be here with you.”

The two of you stood there, wrapped up in each other, for what felt like forever—until you suddenly remembered where you were. Slowly, you pulled away, wiping at your tears as you turned back toward the dining room. Your entire family was staring at the two of you, some with their mouths slightly open, others exchanging curious glances.

Your mamá stood at the head of the table, her arms crossed, her brow furrowed in a mix of surprise and confusion. Your abuelo looked over his glasses at the scene, clearly intrigued, while your little cousins whispered to each other at their table, giggling at the sudden interruption, some looking at you in shock as they recognised him.

Your sister, on the other hand, was beaming like a Cheshire cat, clearly enjoying every second of your flustered reaction. She gave you a subtle thumbs up behind your boyfriend’s back.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to face your family, feeling your cheeks heat up under their curious stares. “Um... everyone,” you began, your voice shaky. “This is mi novio, Max.”

You could see the shock ripple through the room like a wave. The word boyfriend hung in the air, and for a moment, no one said anything. You hadn’t told anyone about him yet, only your sister knew, as of three months ago when she started snooping and realised you were no longer living in France but in Monaco. Your relationship had been something you wanted to keep just for yourself for a little while longer. But now, here he was, standing in the middle of your family’s Christmas dinner, a smile on his face as he awkwardly waved at your relatives.

“I wanted to introduce him sooner,” you continued nervously, glancing at your mamá, who was still looking at him, studying him. “But... surprise?”

The silence stretched for another second before your mamá’s face softened. She slowly approached, eyeing Max from head to toe, and you held your breath, waiting for her reaction.

Finally, she smiled, a warm, genuine smile that made your heart swell. “Bienvenido,” she said, her voice kind as she reached out to embrace him. “Welcome to the family.”

Max looked slightly taken aback but quickly returned the embrace, his smile widening. “Thank you, Señora,” he said, his accent endearing as he stumbled over the Spanish.

Just as your mamá let go of Max, the room settled into a brief moment of quiet. Your abuelo was still smiling warmly at him, your cousins exchanging glances, when suddenly, your little cousin Mateo, the one with the wild mop of curls and boundless energy, jumped up from his seat at the kids’ table.

“¡Espera! (wait!)” Mateo shouted, his eyes wide as saucers, pointing directly at Julien. “¡Lo conozco! (i know him!)”

Everyone turned to look at Mateo, confusion washing over the room. Max raised an eyebrow, half-smiling, clearly unsure of what was happening.

Mateo’s excitement was contagious, and before anyone could say anything, he ran around the big table and skidded to a stop in front of Max, his hands on his hips like a detective who had just solved the case of the century.

“¡Eres tú! ¡Tú eres Max Verstappen! The Formula One driver! I saw you on TV in Abu Dhabi with Papá!” he exclaimed, his voice practically shaking with enthusiasm.

There was a collective intake of breath as everyone slowly started to understand what Mateo was saying. Your abuelo’s eyes widened, and your mamá’s hand flew to her mouth in surprise.

Max chuckled softly, glancing down at Mateo with a grin. “That’s right,” he said, squatting down to Mateo’s level. “You watch Formula One?”

Mateo nodded furiously, his eyes practically sparkling. “I love it! My papá and I watch all the races! You’re so fast! You won the championship!” His words were coming out so quickly, you weren’t sure he was breathing.

Max laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “I did, maybe one day I can show you the trophy!”

Mateo looked up at you, then back at Max, his expression suddenly turning serious. “Wait... you are his girlfriend?” he asked, pointing at you with wide eyes, as if he couldn’t believe his cousin was dating a Formula One World Champion.

You blushed, nodding sheepishly. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Mateo’s jaw dropped. “No way!” he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. “You never told us you were dating a Formula One driver! Why didn’t you say anything?”

Before you could answer, the room erupted into laughter, your cousins and siblings throwing questions at you all at once.

"How long have you been dating him?"

"Is he as fast in person as he is on TV?"

"Wait, does this mean you get to go to all the races?"

Your mamá, still a bit wide-eyed, looked at Max in awe. “Un piloto de Fórmula Uno... Wow,” she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. Then, her expression softened again, a proud smile spreading across her face as she turned to you. "Mira a mi hija, con un piloto famoso." (look at my daughter, with a famous driver.)

Max smiled at your mamá, standing back up and pulling you close to his side. "She’s the real big thing," he said, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist.

Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned into him, grateful that your family was slowly warming up to the whirlwind surprise.

Mateo, still in shock, tugged on Max’s sleeve, his face beaming with excitement. “Can I get your autograph later? I have all the Formula One cards!”

Max laughed again, ruffling Mateo’s hair. “Of course, mate. Anything for mi amore’s family.”

As Mateo ran back to his seat to excitedly tell the other cousins who his new hero was, the entire room buzzed with energy, the surprise turning into the kind of joyous chaos that only a big family dinner could have. Your abuelo poured another round of drinks, your mamá called for everyone to sit back down and finish the meal, and you couldn’t help but smile as Max pulled your chair out for you, his hand brushing yours as you both returned to the table. Something about the scene felt so domestic that you couldn’t remember why you didn’t want to introduce him in the first place. 

“Feliz Navidad Mi Amor (merry christmas, my love),” you whispered to him as he took in the scene in front of him.

"Vrolijk Kerstfeest schatje. (merry christmas sweetheart)” he replied, placing a soft kiss on your temple.

[yikes-aemond]

I love you. It's ruining my life. (Part III)

pairing: Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!fem!reader (no descriptions of reader except that she wears dresses and has long hair)

warnings: 18+, smut, canon typical violence, cursing, drinking  

summary: You and Benjicot Blackwood face the consequences of Benjicot’s decision. 

word count: 4.7k 

author note: I’m having so much fun writing this little series. I’ve decided that there will be four or five parts in total, so look out for the next part soon. Happy reading!

part I can be found here. part II can be found here. part iv can be found here.

You were going to kill Benjicot Blackwood. 

That was the first thought you had after waking in an unfamiliar room with a splitting headache. You could forgive him for knocking you unconscious the first time. But for a second? Absolutely not.

The room you had been left in was uncomfortably warm. The dying fire in the hearth indicated that you had likely been here for hours. Groaning, you pushed yourself up from the bed you had been tucked into. Your dress clung to you like a second skin, and a quick brush of your fingers through your hair revealed knots and tangles. 

Oh yes, you were going to kill that Blackwood heir as soon as you got your hands on him. 

Making your way to the wall of windows on the right side of the room, your stomach sank. Dusk was settling in. You had been gone from Stone Hedge all day, and there no chance your absence had gone unnoticed. Your father would be furious.  

Glancing around the courtyard beneath the windows, you were not entirely shocked to find yourself at Raventree Hall. You had never visited the keep in person, but you had heard tales of the ancient stone walls adorned with climbing moss. From your vantage point, you could just make out the top of the colossal, dead weirwood tree in the godswood. Already ravens were gathering to roost for the night. 

You had to find Benjicot. Had to find him and ask him what in the Seven Hells possessed him to bring you here of all places. A Bracken behind enemy lines. 

You heard the lock at the door unlatch. Unsure if friend or foe approached, you glanced to your left and right but found no weapon. The best you could find was a candleholder. Grabbing it, you pressed yourself against the wall furthest from the door. Raising the makeshift weapon, you readied yourself to throw. 

A tall woman with long, dark hair and an archer’s bow attached to her back entered. When she spotted you, candleholder raised to strike, she lifted her eyebrows and huffed out a laugh.

“Put that thing down before you hurt yourself.” 

There was no doubt in who she could be. 

Alysanne Blackwood. Sister to Lord Samwell Blackwood. Aunt to Benjicot Blackwood. And Black Aly to all those who would dare cross her bow. 

With shaking hands, you returned the candleholder to its proper place. Dipping into a small curtsy, you said, “Lady Blackwood, I am—”

“I know who you are.” Alysanne said, cutting you off. She paused to look at you, eyes glancing up and down, taking in your soiled dress and tangled hair. You tried desperately not to fidget under her scrutiny. 

But then her face broke into a smile. You could see the family resemblance easily enough. Although not nearly as feral, Alysanne’s smile had the same vicious edge as Benjicot’s. “So, you are the Bracken who has stolen my dear nephew’s heart.”

You did not know how to respond. Any thought you might have had left your head under Alysanne’s gaze and her accusation. Seeing the panicked look on your face, she laughed again and gestured to the seats before the fire. “Come now, little Bracken. Sit with me. We women folk have much to discuss.”

You left the comfort of the wall and did as she bid. You had no idea what Alysanne wanted to discuss. Her mood seemed relatively pleasant, all things considered. But the Blackwoods were notorious for their quick tempers and could switch at a moment’s notice. 

Alysanne took the bow off her back, leaning it against the hearth but still within her reach. You tried to calm your racing heart, but your palms were starting to sweat. You did not believe that Alysanne would harm you, at least not physically. But Benjicot’s absence, even if only temporary, set you on high alert. 

You could not help but ask,“Where is Benji—I mean, where is Lord Blackwood?”

Alysanne seemed amused by your question. Leaning back in her chair, she regarded you before answering, “My nephew has been otherwise detained.”

Her tone and mocking smile struck a nerve. You could feel your own temper begin to flare. And you could tell that Alysanne was taking pleasure in your apparent discomfort, watching you try to get a grip on your emotions. You should not have been surprised. Nothing brought a Blackwood more joy than torturing a Bracken. 

You tried for diplomacy. “Lady Blackwood, please—”

“Call me Aly, little Bracken.” She said, waving her hand at your formalities. “I think we need wine for this conversation.” 

What conversation? You were not sure your stomach could handle alcohol, but you were not stupid enough to refuse. 

With a full glass in hand, you watched Alysanne—Aly—take a deep drink. Setting the goblet down, she turned to you, a serious look in her eyes, and asked, “So, tell me, has my nephew fucked you yet?”

You choked on your wine.

Laughing, Aly gave you a thump on the back to help clear your airway. “You know, I’ve never met a Bracken with such delightful expressions.”

Finding your voice, you managed, “I’m happy I could be such a source of entertainment for you.” 

Aly picked up her wine again and smiled. Her gaze softening as she said, “I can see why he likes you.”

You felt your cheeks warm at the praise. You were desperate to know what Benjicot said about you to his family, but you had a feeling that Aly would not betray his confidence. The two might be aunt and nephew, but they were only a handful of years apart in age. Closer to a sister and brother. 

Taking another sip of wine, Aly’s face grew serious once again.“My question may have been crude, but I did not ask it to embarrass you. I need to know before I can advise my brother on how to proceed.” 

You swallowed down the wine that threatened to return back up. “How to proceed?”

Running a hand through her dark curls, Aly took a beat before responding. “Earlier today, a host of Bracken men showed up to Raventree Hall under a white flag and claimed that the Blackwoods had taken Lord Amos Bracken’s only daughter. My brother laughed in their faces and sent them away.” 

Aly took another deep drink of wine before continuing. “Not two hours later, Benjicot turns up with you in his arms, spinning a tale about finding you in the woods out cold, and seeing as how Raventree Hall was closer, decided to bring you here to see our maester.”

Wine forgotten, Aly leveled a hard look at you. “Of course, the maester did not find anything to explain your condition, except for a peculiar bump on the back of your head. If I didn’t know better, the bump looked like it came from the hilt of a sword or dagger. Most curious.”

You could not look at Aly, for you knew that your face would reveal too much. Would reveal that Benjicot lied. 

“And then there are, of course, the injuries on your neck.”

Your hand lifted to touch your neck, almost as if it was detached from the rest of your body. Your throat felt parched as you asked, “Other injuries?”

Aly smirked and leaned closer to you. “Oh yes. You seem to have some bruising on the sides of your neck. Almost looks like bite marks.” 

You felt yourself pale, the wine definitely threatening to make a reappearance. You wanted to sink into your chair, make yourself as small as possible. 

Aly knew that she had you. “So, I ask again, did my nephew fuck you? Did he take advantage—”

“No!” The denial was out of your mouth before you could think. No matter how angry you were with him, you refused to let anyone believe the worst about Benjicot. You would suffer any consequences, go to any lengths, to protect him and his honor. 

Stealing yourself as best you could to hold Aly’s eyes, you vowed, “I remain a maiden.” 

Aly held your gaze for a long moment, searching your eyes for any hint of deception. Waiting to see if you would crack under pressure. Finally, she nodded and let loose a deep sigh. “I did not think Benjicot capable of forcing a woman, but I had to ask. As to whether your maidenhead remains intact, I shall believe you, little Bracken. For now.”

You slumped back into the chair, suddenly exhausted. You felt as if you had just survived a great battle. And maybe you had. Black Aly was almost as notorious as her nephew. To do battle against them, whether by wit or sword, was to take your fate into your own hands.

But the war was not yet won. 

You hesitated to ask but you had to know, “How will you advise Lord Samwell?” 

Aly’s attention had turned to the dying fire, sipping her wine in thought. “Because you remain a maiden, the easy solution is to return you to Stone Hedge at first light before wind gets back to Bracken that you’re here.”

Your heart sank at her words. The moment you returned to Stone Hedge would be the moment you lost what little freedom your father had granted you. No longer would you be allowed to wander the grounds unaccompanied. No longer would you be able to steal away onto Blackwood lands in the hopes of seeing Benjicot. 

Worse still, you were of marriageable age and had been for some time. You were fortunate that your father had not betrothed you as soon as your courses started. But with war on the horizon, you knew your father would not hesitate to betroth you now should the right opportunity present itself.

Sighing again, Aly leaned back in her chair to match your relaxed posture. “But I have a strong feeling that my nephew, in all of his infinite wisdom, will oppose such a plan.” Glancing at you, she said, “He can be quite stubborn when he wants to be.”

You smiled to yourself, picturing the look on Benjicot’s face when he did not immediately get his way. “Yes, he is.”

Without warning, Aly stood up from her chair, causing you to scramble to your feet in response. “I’ll have dinner brought to you soon.” 

Straightening to your full height, spine locked, you asked, “Am I to be a prisoner, Aly?”

You watched Aly quickly mask the look of surprise on her face at your boldness. If you did not know any better, you would say she almost looked impressed. 

Turning her back to you and walking toward the door, she called out, “Not a prisoner yet, little Bracken. But best stay here for your own protection. Not all Blackwoods will treat you as kindly as my nephew.” 

With that, Black Aly opened the door and left. You sank back into your chair when you heard the lock latch close. 

Despite Aly’s assurances, you had never felt more trapped in your life. Dinner had come and gone, and there was still no word from Benjicot. You could feel your frustration and fear rise with each passing hour. 

You wanted to know what was happening. Were the Blackwoods sending word to your father? Were you going to be returned home? Were the Blackwoods going to forbid Benjicot from ever seeing you again? Would a war be fought over this? The Blackwoods and Brackens had fought each other over much less. 

All you could do was sit and think and dwell on the unknowns. You had explored every inch of the chambers, finding no books or papers to keep your mind occupied. Every second you spent in this godsdamn room drove you closer to a breaking point. 

When you heard the lock at the door begin to unlatch again, you sprung into action. You could not be alone in this room for a moment longer. Hiding on the other side of the door, you waited until the person entered your chambers, determined to fight your way out if necessary. 

You did not pause to consider whether this was a wise choice. You had no weapons nor training, but you did not care. You were a Bracken with your back against the wall. And your instinct was telling you to fight. 

So, when the door finally opened and a man entered your chambers, you acted. Leaping onto his back, you let out a scream, punching and kicking and clawing at anything you could get your hands on. The man cursed and tried to get a grip on you, but you squirmed out of his reach. 

Only when you broke skin and felt blood beneath your fingernails did you pause long enough to notice whom you had attacked. Dark, messy hair. A strong, powerful build. A familiar scent. 

Grasping your arms and removing them from his neck, Benjicot Blackwood turned to face you. And even though his face and hands were decorated with blood from your scratches, he looked at you like you were the most wonderful creature in all of Westeros. 

“Have you had your fill yet, my lady?” 

You did not know whether to kiss him or kill him. Perhaps both. And maybe in that order. 

Launching yourself into his arms, you kissed Benjicot with everything you had. His lips were full and warm, molding against yours instantly. With one hand splayed on your back and the other gripping your waist, he pulled you against him, flushing your bodies together until you could not tell where one of you began and the other ended. 

And when you tugged at his hair, he moaned into your mouth, biting your lip in retaliation. His bite was not hard enough to draw blood, but you felt your core tighten in response. You whimpered, deepening the kiss as you slid your tongue against his. But when he moved his hand to your breast, gliding his touch over your pebbled nipple, you pulled back. 

Panting heavily, you detached yourself from his arms and put space in between you. Benjicot’s cheeks were flushed and his breathing was as uneven as yours. You could see a question begin to form in his gaze, but he does not ask it, waiting instead for you to proceed. 

As soon as you got your breathing under control, you said, “We need to talk."

Benjicot nodded in agreement, moving to the chairs that you and Aly had occupied earlier. “I had a feeling you were going to say that.” 

When you settled across from him, you could feel the tension returning to your body. You did not know where the two of you stood, not really. You had shared kisses and pleasure, spoken words of love and devotion, but Benjicot had left you alone and in the dark—literally and metaphorically. You did not know what conversations had taken place or decisions made while you were confined to these chambers. And that thought—that he had not cared enough to even leave note—was enough to have your anger returning in full force. 

“What in the Seven Hells were you thinking bringing me here?” You snapped. 

Benjicot raised a brow at your harsh words, but responded evenly, “I recognized the voices we heard in the woods as Blackwood men. There was no explanation we could provide to them that would make sense and preserve your honor. Better for them to believe that I happened upon an unconscious, injured Bracken.” 

“Did you have to knock me unconscious? I could have pretended to have sprained my ankle!”

Shooting you a look of disbelief, Benjicot said, not unkindly, “My lady, you are many things. But a good liar is not one of them.”

You were going to strangle him. 

Benjicot smirked at your expression. “I love when you get that violent look on your face.” 

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed at his declaration. And when you did not otherwise respond, Benjicot relented, expression growing serious. “I did not mean to leave you alone all day. When we returned, and I found out that your father was looking for you, I had to explain everything to my father and aunt.”

You shot him a look of horror. “Everything?”

Now it was Benjicot’s turn to roll his eyes. “Yes, my lady, I told them everything. Told them how warm and wet your cunt felt against my—”

“Benjicot Blackwood!” You shrieked, shoving into his chest. “Have you lost your mind?”

He could not help but laugh. “If I have lost my mind, it is only because you occupy all my thoughts.” 

You felt a sliver of your anger melt away at his sweet words. “Fine, I am a terrible liar. That still does not explain why you decided to bring me here. You could have returned me to Stone Hedge.”

Benjicot’s expression, which had been light and open, shuddered closed. You watched him get a far off look on his face. You tried to catch his eyes, but he avoided your gaze. “Do you wish for that? To return to Stone Hedge?”

Your heart squeezed at his questions. For you knew that if you said yes, he would return you to your home. He may be Bloody Ben to the world, ruthless fighter who took no prisoners, but to you, he was kind and loving and protective. He would respect your wishes, even if that meant being away from him. 

Grabbing his hand, you traced his fingers, lingering your touch over the marks you had left behind. “I wish to be wherever you are.”

Benjicot took your hand in his, pulled you up from your chair, and settled you on his lap. Your face warmed at the intimacy, but you relaxed in his arms. Leaning your head against his chest, you let a feeling of peace wash over you, even if only for the moment.

You did not know how long the two of you sat in silence, content to just hold one another. But you knew that you could not stay like this forever. There were too many words left unspoken. Too many decisions to be made. 

Benjicot broke the silence first. “I brought you to Stone Hedge because I never wish to part from you. The thought of leaving you on Bracken land again gutted me.” He paused, throat working as he tried to gather his thoughts. Closing his eyes, Benjicot looked like he was bracing himself. “I knew that if I brought you here, brought you to my father and Aly, we could force the issue of us being together.”

Pulling away from his chest, you adjusted your legs to straddle his thighs. Benjicot’s hands gripped your waist to steady you. You clasped his face in your hands, demanding his gaze on yours. “We should have made that decision together. This is my life too, my future. I refuse to be under your thumb, Blackwood.” 

Lowering your face to his, you whispered against his mouth, “If you ever do something like that again, I will end you.” 

You did not know who kissed whom. But it did not matter. Benjicot’s mouth was on yours, devouring and claiming. Lifting you into his arms, and without breaking the kiss, he moved the two of you from the chairs to the bed. 

Your back hit the pillows. When you did not feel Benjicot’s weight on you, you opened your eyes to see him at the foot of the bed. Watching you. The look in eyes was pure hunger. His entire being seemed focused on you. On your body. The rise and fall of your breasts. The clenching of your thighs. 

“Benjicot.” There was a note of pleading in your voice.

His name on your lips broke whatever spell he was under. His lips returned to yours as if he were starving for your kiss. 

You spread your legs for him, letting his body fall into the cradle of your thighs. You flushed at the hardness you felt against your core. And when he drove his hips into yours, pressing that hardness against you, you moaned, legs trembling as you felt yourself grow wetter and wetter. 

Benjicot moved his kiss from your mouth down to your neck, biting and licking and marking for all the world to see. He wanted to brand you. Wanted everyone to know that you belonged to him. That you were his and he was yours.

He slid one hand up your leg, bringing your dress with him until it pooled at your waist, revealing your lower half to him, with only your small clothes in between.

You could not stop your hips from bucking when he dragged his hand over your covered cunt. You had never felt anything like this before. Your attempts at pleasuring yourself were nothing compared to what Benjicot did to you. You felt warm and achy and empty and completely out of control.  

“Will you let me see more of you, my lady?” Benjicot asked, not taking his eyes away from where his hand touched your heat. 

You were on a precipice. There was no turning back from this. No turning back from whatever ruin lay ahead of you. 

Letting out a breath, you whispered, “Yes.” 

No sooner had the word left your mouth were your small clothes ripped from your body. You did not have even a moment to protest, for the second your cunt was exposed to the air, Benjicot was bringing his hand between your folds. 

“Fuck.” Benjicot groaned. Slipping one finger into you, he pressed the heel of his hand against your clit. “You’re so wet, my lady.”

You whined at his words and the feeling of his hand working you. With every touch and circle of his fingers, you felt yourself growing closer and closer to that release you craved. 

But release evaded you. You rocked yourself against Benjicot’s hand, trying to force his movements to switch from slow and careful to forceful and demanding. 

“Benjicot, please—” 

“Please what, my lady?” His voice teasing, as he began to slow his movements. 

You groaned in frustration. You did not have the words. Did not know what to ask for. “I need something.” 

Benjicot stopped moving his hand entirely, and you could have cried. And when he removed his hand completely, you considered killing him all over again. 

“I swear on the old gods and the new—”

The look Benjicot shot you silenced the curse on your tongue. “No gods will hear you here, my lady.”

Glaring at him, you asked, “Do you wish for me to beg, Blackwood?” 

Benjicot hummed at the question. “A Bracken begging for a Blackwood to bring her pleasure? That does hold some appeal.” 

Before you could respond, Benjicot slid down your body, bracing both hands on your thighs to keep you open and spread wide. Your stomach clenched, as he brought his face to hover over your slick cunt. 

Benjicot glanced back up at you, waiting for a signal that you understood what he intended. Your breaths were uneven and rapid. The thought of his mouth on the most intimate part of you was beyond your comprehension. 

And when you nodded, Benjicot gave you that feral, wicked smile. The one that never failed to make your heart thud against your chest. He lowered his head, until all you could see was his dark, messy hair between your thighs. 

The first drag of his tongue against your center fractured your world. You felt undone and made whole again. You thought your heard Benjicot curse against your wetness, but you were too far lost in pleasure to be sure. 

He licked and licked and licked. Each swipe of his tongue brought a moan to your lips. He lingered on your clit, sucking and nipping until it was almost too much. You arched against him, unable to stop yourself from moving your hips against his face.  

Benjicot pressed a hand to your stomach, stilling you, as he slid his tongue straight into your cunt. You could not think, could not do anything except submit to the feelings he brought out in you. 

“You taste,” Benjicot moaned against you, “even better than I imagined, my lady.” 

You were sure you were crying. At the sight of your tears, Benjicot laughed and sunk two fingers into you, dragging another moan from the depths of your throat. 

Release was almost in your reach, just beyond your grasp. “Please, please, please.” You chanted, shaking your head back and forth against the pillow. 

Benjicot drove his fingers deeper and deeper, working his teeth and tongue against you, and with one final flick of his tongue to your clit, your back bowed off the bed, your release crashing into you. 

Even when you clenched down on his fingers and pulled at his hair, Benjicot did not stop moving against you. Fingers pumping. Tongue and lips feasting. He devoured whatever pleasure you gifted him. Only when you collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for air and reeling at the aftershocks, did he finally stop.

Your mind and body existed on different planes. You were not even sure you remembered your own name, so thoroughly had Benjicot upended your world. 

As you tried to put yourself back together, you noticed Benjicot adjusting himself in his breaches. You had never seen a cock before. But suddenly you found yourself desperate to see his. 

Sitting up, you placed your hand atop his, staying his movements. Benjicot glanced at you sharply, his breath catching in his throat. 

You met his stare. You did not know what you were doing. All you knew was that you wanted to give him even a fracture of the pleasure he had given you. 

Swallowing your insecurities, you asked, “Will you show me what to do?”

For once, Benjicot seemed to be at a loss for words. But he helped you undo the laces and unfasten his breaches. The muscles in his thighs shifted as he pulled himself free. 

Benjicot’s cock was enormous. Although you had nothing to compare it to, you were sure he had to be on the larger side. Enormous and hard and leaking from the slit at the top. Your mouth felt parched at the sight. 

You looked up at Benjicot, only to find his eyes focused wholly on you and your reaction. You did not want to disappoint him. 

“How do I please you, my lord?” Benjicot groaned at your words, taking himself in hand. Up and down, he stroked his length with a force that surprised you. 

Benjicot watched as your eyes widened at his actions. Watched the way you licked your lips. Watched the way you rubbed your thighs together. You enjoyed seeing him this way. 

“Have you ever touched a cock, my lady?” He knew the answer but wanted your confirmation. 

Shaking your head, you reached out to run your finger over the leaking slit. Benjicot grabbed your and placed it on his cock, trembling when you wrapped your hand around his length. 

And what a feeling that was. The ruthless, cruel Bloody Ben trembling from the pleasure you gave him. The idea of him being wholly at your mercy was intoxicating. 

Your own hand shook a little as you stroked him. The skin was softer than you had imagined, but he felt hard as steel beneath. You felt him shudder against you as you worked your hand up and down. 

“That’s it, my lady.” Benjicot murmured, lost in the feeling of your hand against him. “Just a little harder. You won’t break me.” You followed Benjicot’s direction, squeezing his cock and pumping as fast as you had seen him do before. 

And when he felt your nails graze the sensitive underside of his cock, he arched off the bed, chest heaving.

“You handle my cock so well.” You flushed at the praise, your own breaths coming out quicker and quicker the more you touched and explored. 

With one final hard twist, Benjicot exploded in your hand, moaning your name as he came. 

How many times had he imagined this? How many times had he thought of you while touching himself? And now you were here, in his home, and he never wanted you to leave. 

Benjicot surged forward, kissing you with all of his pent up feelings. He refused to live without you. Refused to give you up because of an ancient feud and a looming war. 

So, even though you were both half dressed, slick with sweat and spit and gods know what else, Benjicot asked, “My lady, would you do me the honor of marrying me? Tonight?” 

final author note: I hope you liked it! I think I updated my taglist to reflect everyone who asked to be added, but please let me know if I missed you or if you would like to be added for future updates.

taglist:

@painted-flag @majoso12

@strollthroughstars29 @a-whiterose

@rebeccawinters @alifeinspiredd

@klutzylaena @poppyflower-22

@iliterallyhavenoideawhattowrite @justannadahfanfictor

@aaaaslaaaan @hobis-hope95

@username199945 @daddyslittlevillain

@flusteredmoonn @nixtape-foryou @prettykinkysoul

[thefirsthogokage]

Fuck AMPTP and the bullshit going on. I'm tired, might not do this well:

(link to article in above picture) From The Article

Receiving positive feedback from Wall Street since the WGA went on strike May 2, Warner Bros Discovery, Apple, Netflix, Amazon, Disney, Paramount and others have become determined to “break the WGA,” as one studio exec blatantly put it.

To do so, the studios and the AMPTP believe that by October most writers will be running out of money after five months on the picket lines and no work.

“The endgame is to allow things to drag on until union members start losing their apartments and losing their houses,” a studio executive told Deadline. Acknowledging the cold-as-ice approach, several other sources reiterated the statement. One insider called it “a cruel but necessary evil.”

The studios and streamers’ next think financially strapped writers would go to WGA leadership and demand they restart talks before what could be a very cold Christmas. In that context, the studios and streamers feel they would be in a position to dictate most of the terms of any possible deal.

[Image IDs: Twitter thread by David Slack posted July 12th, 2023 that reads in totality:

And right on cue, here’s the inevitable Deadline article claiming that the AMPTP and their CEO bosses are ready to wait us out and let us “go broke.”

They’re not. They can’t. This studio propaganda, and here’s why.

In the increasingly mega-merged and hedgefundified Hollywood, these companies live or die on their quarterly earnings reports. It only takes one bad quarter for their stock price to plunge, putting the company and the CEO’s job in jeopardy.

But their stock prices are holding steady, right? Right. For now. Because our industry is a pipeline that starts with writers. The TV and movies they’re releasing now are shows we started making for them 4-12 quarters ago. But what happens when that pipeline runs dry?

What happens is they run out of product. No new shows in streaming to drive and sustain subscribers. No new shows in broadcast and ad-supported to bring in ad revenue.

No shows, no money.

No money, bad earnings report.

Bad earnings report, bye-bye stock price. Bye-bye CEO.

After 70+ days with no writers to create their product for them, the pipeline is running dry.

Their stock price isn’t tanking yet. But if they don’t make a deal with us, it will.

And they know it.

If they make a deal soon, they might be able to weather it. Stretch out releases. Rush some new stuff through.

But the longer they keep us out, the longer that pipeline runs dry, the more unavoidable a catastrophic dip in new high-quality shows becomes.

And they know it.

So yeah, the studios are planting articles in the trades that make it sound like they’re so determined not to pay us the 0.02% of company revenues we’re asking for that they’re willing to hold out forever.

Bullshit.

I’m sure the AMPTP bosses would love to break our union. But they love their jobs more. They love money more. They can’t make that money without us.

And they know it.

Ignore the trades, walk the line, stand together, and win. #WGAStrong

/End ID]

Bonus: John Rogers' Reaction

[Image ID: A tweet from John Rogers that he posted July 12th, 2023 that reads:

I was trying to be cool and professional about this strike, but this AMPTP “we want to drive them to homelessness” shit means I’m going to be dug in at WB Gate 4 like Hiroo Onada. They’re gonna have to send @ellenstutzman with a bullhorn to order me out of the bushes.

The second image is Ellen Stutzman's Twitter bio that says:

Cheif Negotiator for WGA MBA, Assistant Executive Director, Writers Guild of America, West; Cornell ILR and UCLA Anderson alum. Views are my own.

/End ID]

EDIT: Please see the update on this HERE

[hyunverse]

dad activities ☆ stray kids hyung line

tags. fluff, headcanons. fem!reader. note. long time no update... (nervous giggles.) maknae line soon. enjoy <3

BANG CHAN...

he's a total girl dad. 100%.

chan is soft-hearted when it comes to his little girl. a glance of her puppy eyes and he'll surrender himself completely to her.

often times, you'll find chan sitting cross-legged with little ha-eun on a stool, giving your husband a makeover. no matter what ha-eun does to him, he'll simply let it be — even if she's dabbing a ridiculous coloured eyeshadow on his eyelids and tying a horrendous looking ponytail at the top of his head. if it makes his daughter happy, then he'll entertain it.

you can count on chan to get your daughter ready for school. he's mastered multiple hairstyles! whether it be a french braid or pigtails, chan made sure he's mastered them even before ha-eun was born. he loves preparing his daughter to school, enjoys the morning as he ties up her hair and makes sure she's dressed up nicely.

would not miss any single school event. talent show? sports day? bring your parent day? report card day? he has every event marked on his calendar, and never misses any. all the teachers and moms know him for being so present and sweet.

always has a hairtie on his wrist! ha-eun is a cheeky, cheeky girl — constantly running around. chris makes sure to have a hairtie prepared for moments where the little girl gets tired of her hair sticking to her face and ends up throwing a tantrum. of course, the other hairtie on his wrist is reserved for you. ♡

at the back of his car lays a my melody stuffie. he's proud to have it in his car!! every time someone gets in his car, he proudly says, "oh, that's my daughter's stuffie." the proudest dad around <3

overall, chris is a dependable and sweet dad.

LEE KNOW...

i see minho as a twin dad. a boy & a girl!!

having twins in the house, pranks become a common occurence. one twin would prank the other, then a revenge comes. it becomes a cycle!! you'd try to stop the prank war going on but it cannot be stopped when minho encourages it!!! sometimes he'll even conspire with the twins to prank you. watch out for the sugar jar as you make coffee because it might actually be salt.

i cannot explain this but he makes weird bento boxes. the typical ones would be of animals, or studio ghibli characters but he makes odd characters that are lowkey terrifying but the kids are so used to it that they're unaffected.

they'll never know what's coming for them when they open their lunchbox. it'll be either yet another jureumi-shaped bento or a weird-looking cat.

leaves cute little notes too! odd, and a bit threatening but cute nevertheless. some of the notes the twins have received range from — "fight back when someone bullies you," or "eat well or don't come home." they're all affectionate, but written in a very lee minho way that you can't help but smile when you read them.

you never have to worry about leaving the kids with minho for a long time. he's got you covered! the twins absolutely adore their dad. would spend an entire day building a fort and watching movies while you're out with your friends.

at the end of the day, when you're back from your outing, you'd come home to the sight of minho and the twins curled up in front of the tv, a studio ghibli movie playing in the background. ♡

CHANGBIN...

the ultimate boy dad!!

he would totally raise a gentleman. the kind to teach his son that chivalry isn't dead.

would 100% teach his son things like opening the door for other people, helping a senior citizen cross the road, and to carry mommy's grocery bags.

picture this. you're out buying groceries for the week. changbin and mini binnie are wearing matching jerseys & carrying grocery bags for you. so cute <3

would surprise you with your son!!! every single mother's day, he'd wake up early with the little boy to make you pancakes and scrambled eggs. sometimes they end up burnt but truly, it's the thought that counts.

ensures that his son does not forget your birthday!! you best believe that every single birthday you'll be pampered with gifts and handwritten notes from your hubby and son. <3

changbin has chronic dad jokes disorder and unfortunately, his son has inherited it. the little boy will have fun telling you dad jokes that changbin taught him.

also loves to play fight with his kid. you'd be watching tv and they'd be play wrestling in the corner, giggles filling in the house.

HYUNJIN...

twin dad through and through. a son and a daughter who'd get showered with love <3

hyune's a man of duality. he can go from boy dad to girl dad in one minute.

one moment he's playing soccer with your son in the backyard, giggling as kkami joins in the fun, little barks accompanying laughters.

or he'd be helping the little boy build the coolest train tracks ever. it's so long and loopy, stretches from the living room all the way to the front door.

the next moment he'd be playing tea party with your daughter, learning how to hold a small tea cup with his pinky up.

would end up coming out of the play room with a messy manicure and a tiara on his head. he doesn't complain. might give you a little twirl just to make his little girl happy.

he would even build the prettiest dollhouse for her. it'd be a whole project, would spend days building a dollhouse and they'd have fun painting it together.

i think hyune is the kind to support and encourage his kids to find new hobbies. his son wants to enroll in taekwondo? sure, he'll take the boy to the first class. his daughter wants to try out ballet? he'll sign her up to a class, buy her a tutu and ballet slippers. he's just so supportive <3

often times, he'd take care of the kids while you go out with your girls. you'd come back to him asleep on the couch, while the (very much awake) kids draw on his face with sharpie ^.^

all in all, hyune's a doting, and supportive twin dad. <3

taglist. @zoe8stay @starlostseungmin @hwajin @sleepyleeji @jdopes-recorder @sherryblossom @alyszaen @hyunluvxo @bokk-minnie @ghostyycat7 @fortunatelyhertragedy @yongbokkari @ameliesaysshoo @seoli-16 @jisungsdaydreamer @soobnny @seolboba @in2heartz @jehhskz @astraystayyh @mnwrld @hanjsquokka @pheonixfire777 @sapphirewave @seunghancore

[pseudowho]

Hiromi Higuruma Relationship HCs

(help me find the Higuruma artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

For our other favourite tuckered-out hardworking man of JJK...

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

- First of all, this man knows he's intense. Whether he's tired of life, or fighting for someone's life, he worries he's just going to cause a partner stress, so he generally avoids relationships. -Not that he doesn't want a relationship, he does; but he knows he wants someone smart, someone who can see the dark comedy of life, and someone who can argue. - Because let's face it - Hiromi Higuruma will argue with anyone about anything He needs someone to share his burning passion; it doesn't have to be about the same thing. - He feels like his standards are unrealistically high, and he won't make these demands of someone, he needs it to happen organically.

✨ and then Hiromi Higuruma finds you ✨

- You're in front of him in the line at the bar, having a fight with the guy in front of you, who was rude to the girl on the tills - And you just roast this guy - Hiromi's having the time of his life, he only wanted a beer but now he's getting a whole show - This guy crawls off, having been used to mop the floor, and you just shake it off, leaning over the bar to apologise to the girl on the tills, and order your drink - Higuruma leans past you; "I'll get hers" - You look at him, and he holds his hands up placatingly; "With no expectation," he says, "nice work with that arsehole. Have one on me." - So obviously, you talk all night - The bar staff come over in the small hours and hoik you out, because you're still talking; Higuruma is smitten- you're witty, dry, bright and immediately happy to talk about bigger things, and he feels so alive - You go out, and it's freezing, and Hiromi feels awkward and guilty for keeping you out so late - Gives you his jacket to keep you warm while he gets you home safely - Sad to leave you at your door, doesn't think to ask you for your number, because he just doesn't see someone seeing him that way until--

- "All that, and you don't even ask me for my number?"

- He stutters - No Higuruma left, brain gone walkies - You tap your number into his phone, doing the drop-call in case Higuruma doesn't

✨ You fall first, but Higuruma falls harder

- To save himself from disappointment, Higuruma insists to himself through so many coffee dates and dinners, trips to museums and galleries, and long walks in the park, that you're just friends - He's so used to crushing disappointment at work, he can't take it from you too - Until one day as you're raging against the machine to him, the love hits him like a bus - You're just waiting for the train to arrive together - And he leans in and kisses you, so softly but so convicted - The train whooshes into the station, rushing you both with warm air, but you're so lost in each other, one of his hands on your waist now to bring you closer while yours tangles in his hair to pull his lips harder to yours, because - Finally - You thought he'd never make a move

✨ After this, you're inseparable; as far as Higuruma is concerned, the hardest part (working out if you're in love) is done. He's absolutely decided you're the one, so that's settled, the man knows his own damn mind

- And he treats you like a man who knows what he wants - He's totally committed, but not showy - This man absolutely has your back, through thick and thin - Will fight your fights for you, but knows he doesn't have to - You read together, a lot. He massages your feet on his lap while you counsel him through the difficulties of another tricky case. You take long baths, working through at least one bottle of wine together, and his foot creeps past you to turn the hot tap on again because he's not ready to get out yet. - Higuruma takes it as a personal insult when you're sad, or upset, or have had a bad day, and curses the cruel world you live in for upsetting you...while throwing blankets over you, making you tea, making sure the house is tidy - Making you happy is his pride and duty - But if you do argue, it absolutely must be resolved. This man will not tolerate silent treatments or going to bed unhappy with each other, anything that can be talked through will be talked through - Absolutely loves quietly ragging on strangers with you, this man gets life from the absurd comedy of people-watching bad or stupid people - Always the first to put the kettle on if you have tea to spill - His bad days are bad, and sometimes his anger at the world seems so great, he must surely be angry at you too - But you stay patient, reassuring, a lighthouse in his darkness and God does he adore you for it - Once this man has decided to commit to you, there is no changing his mind, you've got to ride this one your whole life now

✨ NSFW ✨

- Fairly tall, slim, average guy build. The kind of soft abs of a guy who works like a racehorse - Secretly packing - His big dick energy in Court translates across - His breakdown in his 30s makes him pretty unashamed to tell you what he wants and give you what you want in the bedroom - Views it as an absolute personal failing if he doesn't make you cum at least twice - I mean come on, there's enough injustice in the world without bad sex - Loves it when you ride him after a long day at work, but he'll get mean if he thinks you're slacking - "*sigh* I know you fuck as well as you fight, so is that what you want? A fight?" - Full of praise when you bounce that pussy up and down his cock, stroking your hips and clit, determined you should share your pleasure - Also, sneak into his office at the courts, I dare you - Mother Justice looking down on you with her scales as you take his beautiful cock into your mouth while Higuruma moans without shame; or, the Newton's Cradle on his desk clattering as Higuruma bends you over, absolutely railing you with a wild look in his eyes, holding his black hair out of his eyes with one hand while he squeezes your arse with another, secretly hoping his colleagues are drinking in your squeaks and whimpers outside the door

(they are and they're so pleased) (Higuruma has looked stressed out lately) (maybe a good fuck will cheer him up)

- When he has had a very bad day prepare to be outrageously overstimulated by him, his lips and tongue and that nose working on your clit over and over while you cry and reach out for purchase on anything while you cum over and over, tears dripping back into your hair - "Can't do it? Nonsense. Hold onto the headboard. I won't be done for a while."

Overall, 10/10, husband material if you can weather those storms.

[feenoire]

Heartfelt Veils II. A Doe Loves Its Wolf

stepdad!joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+ minors dni

word count: 6.2k

warnings: age difference (18/50), sexual harassment (cat call), fluff, angst, sexual tension, sexual acts.

summary: spending your 18th birthday with your stepdad ended up being an unforgettable day, one that will forever linger in your mind.

a/n: Joel quoting Romeo’s line in spanish, that’s the note. i hope you enjoy this chapter <3

series masterlist

The drizzle cascades outside, tapping the window of your bedroom. The pumpkin spice candle fills your room with its warm, comforting scent. You’re sitting on a chair, pen in hand, as you pour your thoughts into your diary at the study desk.

“Dear diary, I almost cry at the sweetness of October. Woken early by Joel, who made breakfast for me: avocado toast and raspberry juice. Days seep by like the stain of a raspberry on my pearl blouse. A week has gone by since I arrived in this small town, this new haven—Joel’s home. I could make a list of all the warmest things: my new chamber, forest saunter, delicacies, cold weather, the sleekness of his wood carvings, and Joel.

I’m afraid to admit it, but I think I like Joel, he’s like a sin worth hunting for. Something’s wrong with me because I know I’m not supposed to feel this way. My heart beats steadfastly for him, his brown eyes warm like the morning sun. For the first time, I feel like someone truly pays attention to me and genuinely cares what I have to say. I feel seen. Unlike the ghost I have been for the last seventeen years. He is flowers in my stomach. I always think of him before I fall asleep. Nightmares fade.

But I tried to convince myself that he was just being nice like most stepdads would do, because they can be kind at first but become total assholes later, that it was all just a pretense, they just want your mother, not you. That’s what I heard from my friends. But I truly hope Joel isn’t like that. That this feeling I have right now is just a phase, that he’s just a phase…”

The knock on the door startles you as you’re lost in your thoughts, letting them flow onto the book in front of you. In a panic, you quickly shut your diary and hide it in the drawer. Knowing you’d be dead if someone read it.

“Sweetheart, are you ready yet?” his deep, husky voice speaks.

“Yeah. I’ll be just a few minutes.”

“Alright. I’m gonna wait outside, okay?” says he from behind the door.

“Okay.”

After his footsteps fade, you put on your jacket over your sweater and grab your school bag. Not wanting to make him wait too long, you quickly grab your walkman before running downstairs. There, you find Joel leaning against his black 1978 Ford truck, looking like a man straight out of a magazine.

Your breath hitches and your cheeks warm at the sight of him as you stand on the front porch. He wears a denim shirt under a brown jacket that hugs his frame, showing just how big his arms are. He is divine, like the Seleucid prince. It makes you flutter.

Like the gentleman he is, he opens the car door for you with a smile as you stride toward him. You can’t help but smile and blush at his lovely gesture.

“Thanks, Joel,” you say softly.

“Ain’t no worries, little girl.”

Little Girl. You like the way he calls you that, it sends a warm sensation to your core. You don’t know why. With the husky voice of his, you secretly wish he could whisper it in your ear.

Joel gets inside the truck and starts to drive. Meanwhile, your mother leaves for work early today. Joel told her that she could stop working if she wanted to and let him provide for her, but she said no, as work keeps her busy and she likes doing it.

It feels comfortable and calming to the mind as you look at the scenery through the car’s window. Observing the little town with its shops, parks, and sidewalks covered in fallen leaves. There’s an old man riding a bicycle, with ten dogs following him, stepping with their little legs. The sight brings a smile to your face. In the distance, a big mountain blanketed in fog. The weather is getting colder, as it nears November.

“What are you listening to?” Joel says, breaking the silence.

You don’t turn the volume all the way up on your walkman, so you can still hear Joel talking through the headphones.

“Um, just an old song from my mixtape.”

Joel smiles. “Why don’t you put your little mixtape on the stereo so I can listen to it too?”

Part of you is embarrassed at the thought of Joel listening to your playlist, or maybe you’re scared that he will judge you for it, without realizing how much you care about what or how Joel thinks of you. But a small part of you is delighted that you could listen to your favorite songs with him.

“Yeah, sure.”

You take off your headphones and put the tape in the player. The soft melody of Mazzy Star’s “Blue Light” fills the car.

Joel smiles as he listens. “Yeah, I’ve heard this one.”

“You have?”

“I have, it’s glorious.”

You smile, glancing at him. “It is, isn’t it?”

“You look like this song would if it were a person.”

His words make your cheeks flush. It’s the best thing anyone has ever said to you, especially when it comes from Joel. You try to shift the conversation back to him. “What kind of music are you into?”

“Fleetwood Mac, Bob Dylan, David Bowie—”

“I love David Bowie!” you say enthusiastically.

Joel laughs softly at your enthralled reaction. He watches you with a look of admiration in his eyes. “Me too, sweetheart.”

“Sorry,” you whisper as you bow your head. Scolding yourself internally for losing your composure in front of him.

“Don’t be.”

The song changes to “Storms” by Fleetwood Mac as you look out of the window again, gazing at the white swans swimming on the lake, beautiful as a painting. Time seems to speed up, and soon you see the big wooden sign on the side of the road that reads, ‘Welcome to Lakewood.’

The car passes by towering trees as you approach the small town. You’re so caught up in the scenery before your eyes that you don’t realize Joel has been looking at you. The town is beautiful, much like Silvervale, but a bit bigger.

Finally, you arrive at Lakewood High School. The school is big and built with maroon-colored bricks. Forest trees stand tall behind the building. Joel pulls over in front of the entrance. Some students head inside. The parking lot is full of cars and motorcycles, with teenagers hanging around despite the forty-five degrees weather.

You feel nervous, and your hand is slightly shaking. But you don’t realize it until Joel reaches for your trembling hand and holds it, enveloping your small hand with his large, warm, and calloused one. The contrast between his rough skin and your softness is noticeable.

“Are you okay?” he asks calmly.

You look at your trembling hand covered by Joel’s. Trying to control your anxiety and take a deep breath.

The idea of starting all over again, introducing yourself to strangers scared you more than you realize. You’re scared of being perceived and what if you’re not able to find a friend? You’ve always been a wallflower at your old school, with only one or two friends.

But you push the thoughts away—you’re not going to break down in front of Joel. Instead, you try to focus on the warmth of his hand. It calms you down and alleviates your pounding heart and trembling body.

You nod. “Yeah, I-I’m okay.”

His eyes are full of concern. “You don’t have to do this today if you don’t want to. I can take you back here tomorrow.”

“No, no, I’m okay, I promise.”

You don’t want to burden Joel, who already takes time before work to drive you here. You’re not going to let a little anxiety ruin your day, especially his.

“Are you sure?”

You give him a smile as a sign that you’re okay. “Yeah, I’m sure. Thank you for driving me.”

“Not at all.”

You open the car door and as you try to get out, Joel still clasps your hand, stopping you.

“Joel?”

His gaze is unwavering and intense as he looks at you. “Call me if you need anything okay? Don’t hesitate,” he says with his thumb gently caressing your hand.

Your breath hitches from the intense eye contact. The tension between you is palpable, making your heart race. Unsure if he can feel it or if it’s just you. The pulsing in your core returns and it starts to ache—you’ve never felt like this with anyone before. You rub your thighs together to ease the ache. Joel’s gaze shifts from your eyes to your thighs, and his eyes darken.

“Little girl,” he whispers.

You try to hold back the whimper at the sensation and the way he calls you. “I-I have to go,” you murmur.

You withdraw your hand from him and get out of the car with a pounding heart. You welcome the cool refreshing air and take a deep breath. No one has ever affected you the way Joel has, and you can’t comprehend why. Trying to calm down and gather your thoughts, you head inside the building without looking back and decide to find the front office to collect your schedule and the school map.

Time passes, and the school bell rings signaling the end of the school day. Finally.

You didn’t really pay much attention to your surroundings today. You spent your lunch break alone in the wildflower meadow in the forest behind the school, sipping the cherry cola you bought from the vending machine and smoking a few cigarettes. With your walkman on and your favorite book as your companion.

You got to know a few people from your classes, but not many. Some of the teachers were nice and helpful. The thing you hated the most was the boys hanging out in the hallway, whistling loudly at you as you walked to class. Shitheads.

The last class of the day was English, taught by the handsome teacher Mr. Wayne—according to the students. He’s around thirty, with light tan skin, brown hair, brown eyes, and a slightly graying beard. He’s the youngest male teacher at school, which is why most of the girls are after him. It seems like everybody pays attention to what he teaches in class, or maybe they just admire his looks. He assigned everyone in class a copy of Romeo and Juliet by Shakespeare and asked them to write an essay about it.

After you leave the school building, you don’t call Joel to pick you up as he asked you to. Instead, you walk through the forest, but not too far from the road. Keeping your phone’s map open to guide you home.

The earthy and musky scent of the fallen leaves is prominent. The faint breeze gently blows through your hair and rustles the leaves scattered around you. The sky is getting dim, and you have no idea why. You check your watch—it’s only 3:20 PM. You’ve been walking for twenty minutes, with just thirty more to go until you arrive. So, you tighten the jacket around you and walk faster.

After what happened this morning, you don’t dare to face Joel, so it’s best to just avoid him. The way he held your hand, his eyes darkening as he stared at you, was all too much. What if he feels the same way you do and is struggling with it just like you? You swear it was there—the palpable force of tension and electricity between the two of you. Maybe you’re just crazy, imagining things that weren’t there, that it was all in your head. What is wrong with you? He’s your stepdad—why do you feel this way? You’re certain that if someone could read your mind, they’d put you in a mental institution.

Now that you’re alone, you let the tears fall from your eyes. Your heart aches as you wonder if what you feel for him is genuine. Joel is a very kind man and a great partner for your mother, and you’re just a dumb seventeen-year-old girl who holds a secret longing for him. You secretly pray to God that these feelings will fade away. Reminding yourself that you need to control how you feel and distance yourself from Joel from now on before something bad happens.

As you continue walking you hear a faint crunching sound on the fallen leaves behind you. Heart pounding, afraid someone might be following you. It turns out it’s a black kitten trailing behind you as you look back. It meows at you as you approach, and your heart softens.

“Hey, are you alone?” you say softly.

Of course, it only answers you with a meow. You look around but you don’t see another cat. The kitten is alone. You wonder where its mother is. As you kneel on the ground and inspect it, its fur is dirty and tangled, and one of its legs is crooked. It’s a girl. You can’t leave her here alone—what if she dies?

“Why don’t you come home with me?” you whisper to the kitten.

You carefully lift her from the ground and carry her with you. She purrs and snuggles into your jacket as you hold her small form gently in your hands. You smile at the sight.

“You’re okay now, let’s go home.”

The kitten occupies your mind now; all you can think about is getting her home, giving her a warm bath, and tending to her crooked leg. The thoughts about Joel leave your mind.

It’s 4:20 PM by the time you arrive home, soaking wet. Late because you had to take shelter from the rain under the bus stop pavilion, shielding the kitten in your jacket’s inner pocket. You cursed yourself for wearing a black mini skirt today, and now your legs are so cold they almost feel numb.

The driveway is empty, signaling that no one is home. You take the spare key from under the doormat and quickly get inside. You bathe the kitten and take a hot shower yourself, then tend to her tiny, crooked leg before falling asleep in your bed with her.

Unsure how long you’ve been asleep—whether it’s been minutes or hours. You feel a big hand gently caressing your head, which wakes you up from your slumber. You open your eyes slowly and adjust your vision; there you see Joel bent over looking at you with a face full of concern, and his hand on your hair.

“Joel?” you murmur.

“Little girl, where have you been?”

You rub your eyes and slowly sit up, gathering your consciousness. “What?”

He sits on the edge of the bed. “I called and texted you, but you didn’t answer. I told you to call me to pick you up. Then, I went to your school, and you weren’t there, I was sca—” he bows his head and takes a deep breath.

It’s the first time you’ve ever seen Joel looks so scared. His eyebrows are drawn together, his jaw tense, and fear is evident in his eyes.

“Joel, I—”

“I’ve been searching for you everywhere, and your mom too—she was terrified. Where the hell have you been?”

You made everyone worry about you, and you feel so guilty about it. You should have at least let them know. Overwhelmed and too caught up in what happened this morning, you don’t dare reach out to him.

“I-I’m sorry, Joel. I was taking a walk home through the woods to… to clear my mind,” you say, your voice slightly shaking. “I’m so sorry for making you worry; I didn’t mean to.”

Joel’s face softens at your explanation. “But sweetheart, that’s like an hour’s walk.”

“I know,” you whisper.

“It’s still too dangerous, baby. You can’t just walk around the woods. What if you get attacked by animals or worse?”

“I didn’t think about it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just don’t ever do that again.”

Joel is a remarkably handsome man, even when he’s worried, and you can’t help but admire his beauty. In return, he meets your gaze, his brown eyes make you feel safe and warm. His hand tries to reach your face, but you turn your head away and shift the conversation. Joel pulls back his hand.

“I found a kitten in the woods, her leg’s injured. So, I brought her home,” you say, pointing to the kitten sleeping on your pillow.

A smile starts to form on his lips as he looks at the little creature. “I didn’t even realize she was there.”

“Is it okay? I can’t leave her alone.”

“It’s okay, little girl,” he says warmly.

“Thanks, Joel,” you say with a smile. “Where’s mom?”

“Downstairs. She’s upset, I’m gonna talk to her.”

“No, it’s alright. Let me talk to her,” you say. “After all, it’s my fault.”

He nods. “Okay.”

Unconsciously, you remove the blanket from your lap and climb out of bed, stepping over Joel’s thigh. The cold air and the rough fabric of his jeans against your bare legs remind you that you’re only wearing a t-shirt and panties. Joel clears his throat, his cheeks turning red. Embarrassed, you quickly apologize and stride to your closet, shutting the door behind you.

God damn it. How could I forget?

As you go downstairs, you find your mother sitting in the dining room. Joel was right—she’s upset, it’s evident on her face. You stand across the table as your mother’s gaze shifts from the window to you. Your heart feels heavy with guilt as you look at her.

“Mom, I’m so—”

“Where have you been?” she says, her voice elevating.

“I’m so sorry, Mom. I was just taking a walk home, that’s all. I didn’t go anywhere else.”

“Well, you can’t just fucking disappear like that! We were looking for you everywhere. If Joel hadn’t told me, I probably wouldn’t have known.”

“I know, Mom. I’m sorry,” you whisper, trying to hold back your tears.

“No, you didn’t. You wouldn’t have fucking done it if you had known.”

Her words make your tears fall down your cheeks, and you sob quietly. Your mother is always like that—very strict about everything: where you go, what you wear, what time you come home. It’s as if she has been scared for you your whole life, and you never understand why. That’s why you are always cooped up at home.

“You go straight home from school from now on. Joel will pick you up, and no more taking a walk bullshit!” she exclaims. “You’re not going to let everything I’ve done to move here and protect you go to waste—”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but instead, she lowers her head and shakes it.

“Protect me from what?” you ask softly, but your question is met with silence. “Mom—”

“Go to your room!” she yells, making you flinch. “No dinner tonight.”

Without a word, you obey her and go upstairs to your room. In the hallway, you catch a glimpse of Joel sitting on his bed with the door open, his face full of concern. You close your door and cry into your pillow.

In the middle of the night, a knock on your door wakes you up. When you open it, you find a tray of food on the floor: a plate of salmon noodles and a glass of milk. It must be Joel; you know your mother wouldn’t do this. You eat the food with your kitten and then go back to sleep.

October 31

On Halloween day, you lie in the wildflower meadow behind the school like you always do every day during lunch break. Too overwhelmed by the crowd inside, especially the cafeteria, you’ve never eaten there, not even once. You don’t care, though. You love spending your time alone here, with no one to bother you.

The school hosting a Halloween-themed event, allowing students to wear costumes. With a pair of wings, a flowing white dress, and a crucifix necklace, you completed your Juliet Capulet costume. It honestly makes you feel angelic.

It’s your birthday today, and you turn eighteen. You wonder if there’s someone who has a birthday on Halloween as well. If so, they probably live on the other side of the world.

It seems like your mother and Joel forgot your birthday since they didn’t say anything to you. Which makes you feel a bit sad today. To celebrate your birthday, you bought a slice of chocolate cake from the vending machine. You don’t even know what to wish for as you want to blow out the candle, so you just blow it out and eat the cake.

A little while later, you notice a doe standing near the shrubs around the trees, not too far from you. She catches your eye, she’s beautiful just like the one in your painting. So, you get up from your spot and slowly approach her, stopping a few feet away so you don’t scare the doe. You wish you could caress her soft fur and give her gentle kisses. Her eyes are captivating as she looks at you. Maybe it’s your deepest desire that comes true right after you blow out your candle. This very moment makes you feel like you’re in some kind of fairy tale.

The doe slowly steps towards you, but suddenly runs away when she hears a branch crack behind you. As you look back, you catch a glimpse of a man, but he is quickly hiding behind a tree. Heart pounding as you come to the realization that it’s similar to what happened in your dreams. Without thinking further, you run back towards the school. Suddenly, it feels so far, maybe because you have gone too deep into the woods than you realized. All you can think is to run and run; your breath is heavy and your stomach hurts. You hear footsteps behind you, but you do not dare to look back.

Keep running, keep running!

Finally, you reach the school building. Knowing that there are many people around, you dare to look back, and there’s no one is following you. You stand at the edge of the school, confused and feeling like you’re losing your mind. But you’re sure that what you saw was real, not just some trick your mind wanted to see. Suddenly, a hand touches your shoulder, making you flinch and turn around.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

It takes you a few seconds to calm your breath and pounding heart as you look at the person in front of you. His face is full of concern as he looks at you.

“Yeah, I’m okay, Mr. Wayne,” you say.

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Are you sure?”

“I just… I thought I saw something, but it’s nothing.”

He nods and speaks calmly, “Okay. Why don’t you just join the party inside with the other students.”

“Yes, Mr. Wayne.”

Joel picks you up after school like he always does. By the time you get home, the house smells like baked goods and cherries.

“Take a walk with me?” says Joel from behind you. His deep voice echoes through the living room.

You turn around and look at him. “Alright. But where are we going?”

He smiles. “You’ll see.”

Joel holds your small hand with his large one as he leads you into the forest behind the house, his other hand holding a picnic basket covered with a white napkin. When you ask him what it contains, he doesn’t answer.

You can’t help but secretly admire Joel’s veiny hand, side profile, and salt-and-pepper curls. He looks so good it makes your heart swell.

“Watch where you’re going, little girl,” says Joel, with a smirk on his face. He catches you eyeing him, like a moth drawn to a flame.

A soft blush tints your cheeks from being caught. “Why can’t you just tell me where we’re going?”

“Patience, baby.”

Walking in the woods again reminds you of what happened earlier. So, you stay cautious throughout the entire walk, hoping no one is following you this time.

A little while later, you arrive at the spot Joel wanted to show you. Hidden behind the tall bushes is a serene lake, where swans swim gracefully. The lake is surrounded by trees and bushes, making it feel like a secret garden.

By the side of the lake is a bone-colored picnic blanket stretched out on the grass, with a few unlit scented candles placed on top of it.

“Joel?” you say, shifting your gaze to him who’s already looking at you with admiration.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

Overwhelmed with happiness, you hug him. “Thank you, Joel. I thought everyone had forgotten.”

“Of course, I didn’t,” he says, his lips brushing your hair.

Pulling back, you gaze up at him. “But mom did. She didn’t say a word to me today. When I woke up, she was already gone.”

Joel caresses your hair with his hand. “Your mom’s busy with work as usual, but I got your present from her.”

That makes you feel a bit better, at least your mother hasn’t entirely forgotten your day. She’s never been there, and you’re always home alone on your birthdays—just buying takeout and watching TV, nothing special. The last time your birthday was celebrated was when you were six. If you’re being honest, you don’t really like having your birthday celebrated. You hate getting older and seeing it as a reminder that death is getting nearer.

But seeing Joel surprise you with all of this makes you think that maybe you deserve it for once. You’re forever grateful that he came into your life and his kindness, for treating you like his own family and making you feel cherished.

The two of you sit on the blanket. Joel takes out the items from the basket while you admire the view. There are countless lavender flowers growing around the lake, and fireflies fly around, glimmering in the foggy air.

Joel takes out the most beautiful cake ever—a heart-shaped cake with pink icing and red cherries on top. He places a tiny candle in the middle.

You blush and smile so widely that your cheeks almost hurt. “Joel, it’s so beautiful. Did you make this?”

He grins. “Yeah, how do you know?”

“The house smelled like cake when we arrived.”

“You caught me.”

“Seriously, Joel, I really love this. Thank you.”

“You deserve this, little girl.”

Have no idea when this will happen again, you savor this beautiful moment and every small thing. You’re not going to let this day be forgotten.

Joel takes a picture of you with his beat-up phone as you blow out the candle. But the birthday cake isn’t the only thing he brings; there’s also grapefruit juice, brownies, chocolates, blueberries, and much more. The two of you eat together, adoring the view and the swans.

“Wish I could stay here forever.”

“You like it here?” he asks.

“Of course I do. I mean, just look at this place—it’s beautiful here,” you say with a smile. “You’re lucky to live here.”

He smiles. “Well, you live here too now, sweetheart. It’s your home.”

“Thank you, Joel, for letting us live with you and for everything.”

“I’m glad to have you here, little girl. It feels more like home now with people around. I’ve been alone for a long time; I came home to a cold house, and it’s warm now with you here.”

The idea of Joel coming to a cold and empty home tugs at your heart. You can’t imagine him being so lonely all the time with no one to care for him. He deserves love and comfort. It makes you a bit glad that your mother has come into his life to fill the emptiness and give him what he needs, even though you secretly wish you could be the one to give it to him.

“I’m gonna keep the fire warm for you.”

Joel’s face softens as he looks at you. “I know you will, sweetheart.”

Your heart warms as you gaze into those dazzling brown eyes and see the sincerity on his face. “I haven’t thanked you enough for everything you’ve done for me—the room, this wonderful birthday, taking me to school, making me breakfast every morning—”

“Sweetheart—”

“For letting Ponyo live with us—”

With a soft expression, he giggles at the mention of your kitten, and you giggle too.

“And so much more,” you whisper.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to thank me for any of it. I’m doing it all for you, and I love every second of it,” says he. “It feels good to have someone to care for.”

You beam.

“So, how was school? Did you make any friends?”

At the mention of friends, your smile slowly fades. “Not really. I’ve been spending time alone. But it’s okay. I mean, I’m not really a people person anyway.”

He gives you a warm smile. “That’s okay, little girl. Sometimes it just takes time. But promise me, if something happens or if you need someone to talk to, you’ll come straight to me, okay? I’m always here.”

“I will. Thank you, Joel.”

You’ve never felt so heard before; it’s like a burden has been lifted from your shoulders. The two of you sit in silence for a while, savoring the peaceful moment.

“They’re beautiful, the swans,” you say.

“They look just like you,” says he, with a heartfelt tone.

You blush and smile, and frankly don’t know how to respond to Joel’s sweet words. Every time he talks to you, it’s as if poetry flows naturally from his mouth.

“Have I told you that you look like a damn angel today, sweetheart?”

“Thank you, Joel,” you whisper and look at him, feeling his breath on your cheeks from how close you two are sitting. “That’s because I’m dressed as Juliet.”

“Belleza demasiado valiosa para ser adquirida, demasiado exquisita para la tierra,” says he.

Cheeks warm and heart racing at his words even though you don’t what it means or what he’s saying. Suddenly, it feels hard to breathe from the strength of the invisible string pulling the two of you together.

You keep your gaze on his eyes as you ask softly, “What does it mean?”

He gently bumps his forehead against yours, making your heart skip a beat. “It means you’re beautiful, little girl.”

It must mean more than that.

You try hard to keep yourself from grabbing his curls and slamming your lips to his, letting him take your breath away. He’s too tantalizing, like a forbidden fruit. But you quickly remind yourself that he is your mother’s boyfriend, not yours.

Joel slowly caresses your soft cheek with his calloused hand and leans forward until your noses touch. But you turn your face away and lower your head. Refusing to let yourself forget the reality.

Did Joel just try to kiss you? The thought races through your mind as you try to make sense of it, sending a rush of heat to your cheeks.

“Can… can I open the presents?” you murmur.

Joel clears his throat. “Yeah, sure, sweetheart.”

Joel takes the wrapped presents out of the basket, and you glance at him, catching something in his expression—is it sadness? You’re not sure. But you try your best to brighten the moment again.

Your mother gifted you a cozy, beautifully knit sweater and a new pair of shoes. Meanwhile, Joel surprised you with an “Among My Swan” vinyl and a lovely wood carving of your kitten, Ponyo, which makes you feel as jolly as a child.

“Oh my god, Joel, this is amazing. Thank you!”

Without further thought, you throw yourself at Joel and envelop him in a hug. In return, Joel laughs softly, circling his arms around you and pulling you into his lap, enveloping your much smaller body.

“You’re welcome, little girl.”

The masculine scent of cedarwood and leather is strong as you bury your face in his neck. It’s comforting and arousing at the same time. You wish you could stay in Joel’s embrace forever, knowing that everything will be okay.

As you try to pull back from his embrace, Joel tightens his arms around you, holding you closer.

“Joel?” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

He loosens his arms a little so he can glance at your face. From this close, you can see the texture of his skin—a little wrinkled around the eyes but soft at the same time. His eyes are rich, chocolate brown, but the pupils take over as they dilate when you lock eyes with him. His lips look soft with a natural pinkish hue, and his breath smells like coffee and grapefruit juice.

Joel Miller is beautiful.

His gaze shifts from your eyes to your lips as you start to talk. “Joel, I—”

He interrupts you with a bruising kiss on your lips before you can finish your sentence. His large hand lands on the back of your neck, pulling you closer, while his other arm tightens around your waist.

Oh my. You close your eyes and let him kiss you, feeling his beard rub against your cheeks and chin. Kissing Joel feels like you can finally breathe like he’s giving you his breath to make you feel alive.

Truthfully, you don’t really know what to do—this is the first time you kiss someone. Joel Miller is the one who takes it.

Your hands fist the back of his shirt and tangle in his curls as you moan into his mouth, giving his tongue an opening. Joel groans into your mouth at the sound of your sweet noises. He takes it as an invitation, so he passionately explores your mouth with his tongue, stroking yours and getting lost in the dance.

“Tastes so sweet,” he murmurs between kisses.

His lips are a bit dry but soft, tasting like the blueberries he just ate—sweet and intoxicating. The kiss grows firmer, more desperate—something you’ve never felt before. He sucks on your bottom lip and slips his tongue inside again, leaving a trail of wetness.

You feel something hard pressing against your core, but you don’t know what it is. The warm sensation in your core worsens, pulsing to the point that it starts to hurt. You can’t hold back a whimper at the sensation and start to grind on it slowly to ease the ache, and he begins to groan.

“Joel,” you whisper breathlessly.

“Little girl,” he murmurs, panting.

He tightens his grip on your waist to stop your grinding. Slowly, you open your eyes and see the pain on his face. It grounds you to your senses, making you realize that what you’re doing right now is completely wrong. This is exactly what you’ve been trying to avoid.

“This is wrong,” you whisper, starting to cry.

You try to pull back from his embrace, reaching for his arm to let you go. His face shows hurt and the realization of what he’s just done. He releases you from his lap, and you sit on the blanket, concealing your face with your palms as you begin to sob.

“I’m so sorry, Joel,” you murmur, your voice muffled.

“No, baby, It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.”

You feel his hand carefully touch your shoulder, and he begins to hold your trembling form in his embrace. You can’t look at him, feeling too guilty about what you’ve just done. Joel is your stepdad; this is deeply wrong. You ruined everything and betrayed your mother.

“Oh God, what have I done?” you whisper under your breath.

“I am so sorry, baby. This is not your fault, okay? Please listen to me,” Joel says, his voice filled with pain, as if he’s on the verge of crying.

You keep apologizing to him, even as he tells you to stop. Yet, he still embraces you gently, as if you’re something delicate and fragile.

After a few moments, you’re able to control your sobs and stop crying. You let him hold your hand as he walks you back home. Once he’s sure you’re okay, he returns to the lake to clean up and give you some time alone.

Lying on your bed, eyes dry from tears, you replay everything that just happened. You start to feel numb, unable to cry anymore, and your head aches. You try to focus on the good things that happened today, but the image of kissing Joel and the guilt cloud your mind, making it impossible to forget.

The sky grows darker outside the window, and the sound of children laughing and trick-or-treating from the street reaches your room. But you don’t hear any noise from downstairs or any sign of Joel coming back.

Where’s Joel? Is he okay?

Feeling lonely and cold, you feel guilty for wishing Joel could be here to hug you and keep you warm. Ponyo’s presence snuggling on your chest makes you feel a bit better; maybe you’re not as lonely after all.

Eventually, you fall asleep with your wings still on.

taglist @morganlolitta

[dorabellingham]

Be like them

warning: none

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when you want to straighten your hair to go to an event with him, but your boyfriend doesn't really like the idea

request: yes (sorry I had to change a little because i couldn't write it)

may contain spelling and translation errors!

You looked in the mirror, holding a lock of your hair, still damp from your shower, as you scrolled through Instagram. Jude had mentioned that Real Madrid was hosting a special event to launch their new kit, a premier that would bring together players, coaching staff and some of the WAG's. He invited you to go with him, and the simple invitation was enough to make you think about how to get ready.

From what you saw in the photos, all the women were incredibly sophisticated, with straight, perfect hair, impeccable in every detail. Suddenly, your own curly locks seemed a little... out of place. You never had a problem accepting yourself, but when you imagined yourself next to your boyfriend at that event, doubts arose. Maybe it would be better to straighten your hair just this once, to have a look more in line with the other women's style.

Later, Jude came into the room, already changed for a dinner they were planning before the event. Seeing you standing there, with a lost look, he slowly approached you and hugged you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

—What are you thinking?

He asked, looking at your reflection in the mirror.

You gave a weak smile and hesitated before answering:

—I was thinking about straightening my hair for the premiere. I think that way I would look more... —You paused, not knowing how to finish. —More like the other women.

Bellingham frowned and looked at you in the mirror, clearly surprised.

—And who said you have to be like them?

He asked, with a touch of disbelief in his voice.

You sighed, trying to put into words what you felt.

—I know it's silly, but... have you seen what they look like? Each one more stunning than the other, and they all have such a... polished style. I think I would look better with straight hair, more "sophisticated".

You said the last word with a tone of uncertainty, as if you didn't even believe it.

Bellingham let out a soft, affectionate laugh, squeezing you a little tighter in his arms.

—Honey, you’re beautiful just the way you are. And besides that. —He smiled, looking into your eyes in the mirror. —I love your curls. We’re the curly couple, you know? I don’t know what I would do without those curls by your side.

You laughed, but you still seemed a little hesitant.

—Jude… you know I’m proud of my hair, but… it’s just that at this kind of event, maybe I should be a little more… “elegant”? I don’t know if that makes sense. I guess I just don’t want people to think I don’t make an effort to be by your side.

He turned around, holding your face gently and speaking with a softness that you loved.

—It makes perfect sense. But who cares what people think? I wouldn’t trade those curls for anything. They’re part of who you are, and I wouldn’t change a thing about you. —He stroked a lock of your hair, twirling it around one of his fingers. —By the way, I want to be the guy who arrives with the most beautiful and authentic girl of all, the one who doesn't need to change a thing to be amazing. And, in my humble opinion, you already are. Totally.

You couldn't help but smile. Jude always had a way of making you feel valued, even when you tried to find fault with yourself. Still, doubts insisted on appearing, and he noticed the glint of uncertainty in your eyes.

—I know it's easy to say, but I'll show you that I'm not joking.

He said, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and opening the gallery. He showed you several old photos of the two of them together, taken throughout their relationship, almost all during simple, quiet moments of everyday life. In all of them, your curls appeared naturally, and Jude always seemed enchanted by you, with a sparkle in his eyes that spoke for itself.

—See? — He smiled. —It's not your straight hair that will make me find you more beautiful. It's you. It's the way you smile, the way you look when you're comfortable and happy. And that's it. —He ruffled her curls slightly with a playful smile. —That's what I love.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of expectations dissipate a little.

—I guess I'll trust you, then. And let the curls be successful, right?

You said, half joking.

—That's my girl! —Jude replied, kissing you on the forehead with a proud smile. —Besides, the curls make you even more unique, and I love knowing that I have someone so incredible by my side. Let the other WAG's stay straight; I want to be with the most special one.

On the night of the premiere, as you were getting ready to go out, he could barely take his eyes off his girlfriend. You had put on a blue dress that highlighted your skin, and your curls were loose, forming a perfect frame around your face. He smiled when he saw you, feeling incredibly proud to have you by his side. As you approached the event, photographers and fans surrounded you, and you noticed the looks and whispers around you. For a moment, insecurity tried to return, but when you looked at Bellingham, you saw only a glow of admiration and love on his face.

—See? You don’t have to change a thing.

He whispered, holding your hand firmly as you walked together.

The curly-haired couple, as he joked, shone that night, drawing attention and leaving a unique mark. And you realized, amidst the flashes and Jude's affection, that their authenticity was their true strength, something that no one could take away.