#while they renovate literally next door

[curiousstrawberry]

My stupid ass coworker is such over active idiot. Bitch, you are ruining shit for rest of us. Nobody's gonna fuck you if you stay at work in terrible noise and dust. But thanks for making it more difficult for me <3

[alsaurus-loves-dean]

.

[f1goat]

roommates ; lando norris + part one

In which you have to live with your brothers best friend who you really don't like, Lando Norris, and his many 'girlfriends' for a while, but there's always a thin line between love and hate.

masterlist - playlist

lando norris x fem!verstappen reader tw: nothing much yet expect that Lando is a player + i don't proofread + smut will come next chapters!

“You’re kidding me.”

Max is standing in front of you, he can barely withhold his laugh. You can see the first signs of his laugh by the way his mouth corners are up. You’re not focused on your brother and his stupid laugh, you’re focused on his best friend. Lando Norris, who’s holding out his hand to you with a silver key in it. You can only hope that this is some sort of prank, but it doesn’t seem like it.

“No,” Max tells you, “We’re getting renovations and the backup apartment only has two bedrooms.”

“I can sleep on the couch?” You offer hopeless. 

“Lando has a room for you,” your brother replies, “and he’s barely home, so what’s the big deal?”

“He’s Lando,” you sigh annoyed. 

Lando has been silent before, but this time he speaks up as well. Almost annoyed he grunts, “He’s standing here. You should be grateful instead of acting like a -” “Lando,” Max is quick to interrupt him. Now that Lando thinks back about the words he was going to say, maybe it’s better that Max interrupted him. Calling you a brat who needs to get laid, by him, wouldn’t make him more popular by you. Oops. 

“See,” you say with an annoyed look at Lando, “I’ll book a hotel because this is the worst idea ever.” 

“You’re going to live in a hotel room in Monaco for a good month or two?” Max asks you surprised, “I’m not paying for that.” 

“Babygirl,” Lando starts. You try to silence him with a angry glance, but it doesn’t work. Since the last couple weeks he keeps calling you babygirl, princess or some other terrible nickname. You can’t get him to stop. “I’ll behave,” Lando continues.

“See?” Max asks you with the same tone you used with him earlier. 

“Until you beg me to misbeha-” 

“Lando for fucks sake,” Max grunts while interrupting his friend again. “I told you it was a bad idea for you to be included in this conversation, you’re only making things worse.”

Lando finally gets the hint and walks away from the room, leaving Max and you alone to talk about all of this. When he’s standing in the hallway, he can’t help himself to stay close by the door. Maybe he can hear something of what you’re saying. In the mean time he looks at his phone, he notices multiple new messages on different platforms. When he opens a couple snaps he’s greeted with nudes from girls he barely recognizes, sometimes with the question when they will see him again. It annoys him. There aren’t many girls who understand that a one night stand is for only one night. He ignores the snaps. 

“Max you can’t expect me to live with him,” you tell your brother angrily, “He’s a literal man whore.  I will probably stay awake every night that he’s home because he always brings some girl with him.”

“I bet that if you ask him to be a bit more quiet, he’ll do so,” Max disagrees with you.

“Still,” you sigh, “We don’t like each other. Lando and I aren’t friends like the two of you. We’re always arguing.” 

“Why don’t you like Lando?” Max asks you, “I mean, you’re often the one who starts with the arguments.”

“That’s now!” You quickly defend yourself, “Earlier it was always Lando who started things. Whenever you left he would always tease me with something.”

Max doesn’t reply this time. You continue to whine about living with Lando. “Can’t you live with Lando? I’m sure Kelly would like it if I’m taking your place.” This time Max chuckles, but he still shakes his head.

“I don’t have another solution then this,” Max tells you eventually. He doesn’t tell you that Lando begged him to let you stay at his place during the renovations. Max also doesn’t tell you that he probably can rent you another apartment for a while, or could have found a place for himself, Kelly, Penelope and you. Lando owns him a lot after this. 

“Am I really going to live with Lando?” 

“Just for a while,” Max replies with a small smile. It seems like you finally agreed. 

Lando is smiling even more on the other side of the door. He’s glad that he’s standing here and hears this. His plan worked. At least, the first step of like a billion steps worked out for him. When he hands you his keys five minutes later, the smile is still plastered on his face. 

+++

“We need some ground rules.”

Lando looks away from the street in front of him to throw a short look at you. The two of you are sitting in his car, much to your disliking. He waited at Max his place until you were done with packing so he could take you with him. While packing your stuff, you kept wondering why you decided to live with Max in Monaco, since it caused this drama. 

“Ground rules babygirl?” Lando asks you. He tries to focus on the road again, but he feels distracted with you this close next to him. 

“Rule one, no more calling me babygirl,” you mutter annoyed. 

“Nope,” Lando is quick to answer. 

Before you can say anything else, Lando speaks up again. “Let’s talk about your rules later, I’m trying to focus on driving.”

“Didn’t know that a formula one driver had trouble with normal car driving,” you mutter. 

Lando laughs softly. You’re without a doubt the most annoying girl he knows, but he wants nothing more then to make you his annoying girl. That can’t be good. It really can’t be. You on the other hand aren’t laughing, you’re still annoyed by everything that happened and is going to happen. You try to distract yourself by wondering about Lando his apartment: how would it look? You expect it to be all manly. Probably no decor, only formula one stuff and more like that. 

When Lando parks his car in an underground garage, he’s quick to tell you about how things work in the apartment complex. “If you want, you can park your car here as well,” he tells you after giving a whole explanation about getting in the garage after hours. 

“I don’t have a car,” you tell Lando, “I always used one of Max’s.”

“Oh, you can use one of mine then if you need a car,” Lando simply states without even thinking about it. You don’t know what to say. When looking at the multiple cars that are parked on spots that match with Lando his apartment number, you can only wonder what they cost. He is really offering you to use his expensive cars whenever you like? “I’ll show you where the keys are later,” Lando continues, “you don’t have to ask if you want to use them.”

“You’re kidding right?” You ask surprised. Lando is already shocking you. Normally the two of you are always bickering, mostly because of you, so it doesn’t make any sense to you that he’s offering something big like this. 

“No babygirl,” he replies, “you can use every one of them.”

“Even your McLaren?” You ask while looking at the special McLaren that Lando owns. 

“Even the McLaren.”

You can’t stop yourself and grin. This is a nice thing. Max is always really protective over his cars, certainly the ones who mean a bit more to him or were more expensive. Lando doesn’t seem to care as much. You already can’t wait to try his cars. 

Together with Lando you use the elevator to get to his floor. You’re getting more curious about Lando his apartment. Lando on the other hand is thinking about something else. He wonders about how you will be in his apartment. Since Max told him about those renovations, he couldn’t help himself and kept imagining living together with you. Seeing it as his big chance to finally show you that he’s not some little boy anymore and maybe to connect a bit more with you. He hopes that he finally can make sure that you get to know the real him. But he doesn’t have a plan for that yet. 

When Lando opens the door and drags your suitcase inside with him, you feel the reality of the situations washing over you. This is it. You’re really living with Lando for now. It feels weird. Lando and you have a complicated past. It’s not as bad as it was before, but you do have a strong opinion about him. And it’s not a positive one. 

You remember all those discussions between Lando and you. The times he teased you until you exploded at him. Or the times you started it and made him crazy. Before it could be simple, but when Lando started his ‘fuck boy era’ - at least, that’s how you call it, you’re even more annoyed by him. Every time he comes over he seems to have some sort of story about a random girl who landed in his bed. It annoys you. 

“So, what do you think?” Lando pulls you out of your thoughts. Slowly you walk inside his apartment. It’s big. Even bigger then you already expected. About the other things you were kinda right. The interior is nice, but it seems basic. He probably called a specialist once, who made sure he has a nice interior. It’s not bad, but it’s not personal. You miss the simple personal touches. It feels a bit stoic. 

“Looks good,” you tell Lando. 

“And now your honest opinion?” Lando sees right through you. 

“It’s nice,” you say before being honest, “but I miss the personal touches.” 

Lando smirks. “Maybe you can take care of that one day,” he jokes. Or better said, he says it like it’s a joke but he would love it if you would actually make his apartment more homey. But you can start with being here. 

“Let me show you the rest,” Lando tells you. He grabs your arm and takes you with him. You’re surprised by the way he searches physical contact with you. Even more surprised with the way it feels. Lando shows you the apartment. You’re quick to find out which room has a few personal touches, his game room. If you should call it that at least. Multiple helmets and trophies are standing in shelves leaning on the walls. 

Lando doesn’t give you a lot of time to look around at his personal belongings. The same thing happens with his own bedroom. You can barely see his bed and then he closes the door again. He takes you with you to the bathroom, before finally showing you the guest bedroom. 

“Think this is okay?” He asks you a bit nervous. You don’t notice the nervous tone in his voice. Slowly you look around in the guest room. It seems nice. There’s plenty room for all your stuff and the bed seems pretty comfortable. You even spot some fresh flowers on the bedside table. Did Lando get those? You can’t imagine it, it must be the doing of his cleaner or something. 

Lando sees the way you look at the fresh flowers. He wonders what you’re thinking right now. You probably don’t think that he has bought them himself. He knew beforehand that if you would move in with him, that it would happen today. So earlier this morning he went to the flower shop to get some fresh flowers for your room. Hoping it would make you feel a bit more at home. He doesn’t tell you that he bought them. You probably won’t believe him anyway. 

“Yeah,” you reply to Lando earlier question, “this is fine.”

“I hope you don’t snore,” Lando jokes, “the walls are thin.”

“Then I hope you don’t take a girl with you every night,” you throw back. 

“Jealous?” Lando questions you with a raised eyebrow. 

“All though, I don’t think I’ll hear the girl much,” you continue, “You’re probably more concerned about your own pleasure.”

“Fucking hell babygirl,” Lando grunts annoyed, “Just wait until you find out how concerned I am about your pleasure.” 

You try to withhold any sort of reaction to be shown. Inside you’re going crazy. Lando always makes remarks that are a bit on the bold side, but he never made them this sexual. Fuck. You can’t think about stuff like this. 

“That brings me back to my earlier statement, we need some rules,” you tell Lando.

“I need rules in my own home?” He asks you surprised. Of course he knew this was coming, but after your remarks Lando isn’t making this easy for you. 

“Yes,” you sigh, “because otherwise we’re going to fight every day.”

“Maybe I like that,” Lando continues to annoy you. 

You let out a sigh. Lando lets out a soft chuckle. It’s so easy to tease you. He knows he should stop, but you know what they say, right? Boys always tease the girls they like the most. He walks back to the living room with you and offers you something to drink before getting on the couch next to you. 

“What rules do you suggest, babygirl?” He then asks you. 

“One, no more calling me babygirl,” you tell him just as you did earlier today.

“Nope,” Lando states, it’s the same answer he gave you the first time. You don’t react to his no, you continue with the rest of your rules. 

“Rule number two, I don’t want to meet every other girl you bring here,” you say. 

“Afraid you’d get jealous?” Lando asks you teasingly. He can only hope that it’s like that, but he knows better. You’re not jealous of those girls. He understands this rule, it would be a mess if he needed to explain to every girl why you’re living with him and that you’re not his girlfriend. Plus, maybe he should stop bringing this many girls to his apartment. His phone is blowing up by the ones who he gave his number, a lot of them expect something more - while he made clear it would be a one time thing. And maybe, really maybe, it’s not fair for those girls that he uses them to forget about you for a bit. 

Some stupid plan that doesn’t even work anyways. Every time a girl is laying underneath him, he can only imagine that it’s you. He wonders how it would feel when it was actually you. How you would sound. There have been many girls, but he thinks about the same girl every time. You. 

“That’s okay,” Lando responds to your rule, “I’ll try.”

You nod satisfied. “And maybe you can also tone it down a bit with the sexual remarks towards me?” You ask him after your succes.

“No, no,” Lando quickly replies, “I want to say to you what I think.” 

You roll your eyes, but don’t say anything else on the subject. “How do you want to do this Lando?” You ask him eventually. “Do you want to live together or next to each other? Want to have dinner together or? I really don’t know how this can work.”

“Let’s try to live together,” Lando tells you hopefully, “We can have dinner together and inform each other a bit about when we’re home or not.”

“Sure?” You ask surprised. You expected him to chose the other option.

“Sure babygirl.”

+++

That evening the two of you decided that Lando could have a cheat day with his healthy diet. Together you ordered some take out. 

“Remember when you DM’ed this girl to get McDonalds with you,” you tease when Lando offers to order some McDonalds. He sends you an angry glare. “She didn’t seem to interested,” you continue to tease. 

“Are you going to eat McDonalds with me or not?” Lando asks you annoyed, “because otherwise I’ll find a girl who will.”

After eating together, you decided to test out the bathroom by taking a shower. When you walk in nothing more then a small towel wrapped around your body back to your bedroom, you decide that you will unpack and organize tomorrow. For now you only need to find something to sleep in. You rummage through your bagage, but there’s no pyjama in sight. Fuck. Clothes are quickly scattered around on the bedroom floor. 

“Fuck,” you mutter. 

You wonder if Lando has something you can wear for tonight, tomorrow you can get your other stuff. In nothing more then a towel on your body, you walk out of your room and start to search for Lando. You hold the towel closely to your body, not wanting to flash Lando. He isn’t in the living room or kitchen, you continue to search. When you hear noises coming out of his game room, you softly knock on the door. 

“Lando?” You ask while knocking again. 

In no time the door is opened. Lando is standing in front of you. You feel a bit distracted when you look at Lando. In some weird way you can’t stop looking at him. The earlier hoodie he was wearing has made place for a white blouse. It suits him. He looks so fine. Fuck. 

“Can I borrow one of your shirts?” You ask him.

Lando doesn’t know what to think, or what to say, or what to do. His eyes are glued on the towel that’s wrapped around your body. Is it really the only thing you’re wearing right now? He can’t even think or function properly right now. He can’t look away from your almost bare body. Fuck, he already knows what he’s thinking about the next couple times while trying to orgasm. Your body looks even better then he already thought. He notices your curves and the way the towel accentuates them even more.

“Did you hear me?” It’s your voice that pulls him out of his thoughts.

“Oh no sorry,” he quickly mutters. He tries to look you in the eyes, but his eyes keep hanging on your body. He focusses on your breasts which are almost in his sight. It’s not hard to miss that you’re a bit cold, your nipples are coming through the towel. 

“I wondered if you have something for me to sleep in?” You ask Lando again, surprised he didn’t hear you the first time. “I forgot my pajamas at home.”

“Of course,” Lando quickly replies. He takes you with him to his bedroom and searches through his closet for a bit. When he found a particular shirt, he’s quick to hand it to you. It’s not a coincidence that he chose a shirt with his name all over it. He hopes he’s going to see you into it. Within seconds you have left him alone again. 

Lando sighs and walks back to the other room. This is going to be hard for him, but he can only hope that he’ll manage to win your heart eventually. When his phone vibrates, he quickly looks at it. 

Max: Explain how I’m FaceTiming with Y/N and seeing her in one of your shirts already???

writers note ; don't really know yet how i'm going to write this one, so every idea is welcome :) let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! ps; i changed the playlist link to a new one

part two

[kechiwrites]

property lines

dark!steve rogers x neighbour!reader

kinktober countdown: day two (facefucking).

synopsis: your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject.

wc: 2.2k

cw: dark content, non con, oral (male receiving), femme language + afab!reader, pet names, internal victim blaming, pet names (sweetheart), a touch of misogyny

author’s note: day 2 brings us more dark!steve, i fear i may be incapable of writing him sincerely. he’s just a little too perfect. I like to take off a bit of the shine. thank you @katsukikitten u r my muse.

Your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject. Mostly because you can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose or if he’s just overly friendly. Maybe it’s the signals you give off, bringing a plate of thick, sweet, cheesecake brownies over to the recently sold house next door, hoping to make a new connection. Suburbia can be isolating, and with all of your friends shaking ass in the city, you need to branch out. It really isn’t the kind of home you figured a single man like Steven Grant Rogers would buy, but then again, you lived in your suburban palace alone, willed to you by your late grandmother and only in need of a few renovations.

He’d been so bright, when you first met him, with a perfect white smile and twinkling blue eyes. He’d been happy to accept the desserts, even happier to return the plate a day later, extolling the praise he and his poker buddies lauded on you over the taste. You’d shrugged it off, “The least I could do for a neighbour. I’m just glad you all liked them.” 

Secretly though, the compliments had thrilled you, especially once you’d gotten a glimpse at the aforementioned “poker buddies”, the whole lot of them, handsome, built, big. All too happy to fix leaky pipes and paint fences in exchange for chocolate cream pie or a dish of homemade lasagna. But Steven  - “Steve, please”  -  was your most loyal customer, always lending a hand, pausing during his early morning jog to check up on you while you watered your flower beds, asking how your book is going, what you do in that “big old house all by yourself” when you aren’t working on “the next great American novel”, of course (his words, not yours).

It’s fine at first, a little disarming to be at the centre of his white hot attention, burning your flesh like he had you under a magnifying glass on a perfect sunny day. But eventually it’s not fine, eventually Steve Rogers takes more and more steps over the property line of overly friendly and into the front yard of wildly overbearing. Eventually, Mr. Rogers insists on weekly visits, popping into your house by using the spare key under the mat he shouldn’t even know about. Slinging his muscled arm over you during the neighbourhood block party, and your neighbour’s son’s 5th birthday party, and the Fourth of July barbeque. He fixes your car without you asking, brings in your groceries when he sees you unloading them in your driveway, brings your mail to you during his daily jog. It’s helpful sometimes, yes, but it’s also suffocating. And you were going to set him straight. You were! But it’s hard, hard to stare into the face of a suburban god, the literal king of the neighbourhood and tell him no. It’s hard to tell him that he’s making you uncomfortable, that you’d like for him to stop being so goddamn friendly all the time. 

So maybe a little of it is your fault. Maybe you should’ve been clearer on your boundaries. Maybe, when handsome, strapping Mr. Rogers came to your front door to ask you to essentially cater one of his poker nights, you shouldn’t have stayed to serve the food, playing happy little housewife in front of Steve’s friends, bringing them cold beers from the fridge and sitting next to Steve, playfully making faces at his hand, then plating up dessert when he asked you to. But it felt good to have his attention. His favour. So when “the boys” start to head home, laying praise and amazement at your feet, you’re sufficiently buttered up for Steve to ask yet another favour of you. It’s not much, of course. Just a little help with cleanup. Then he’ll escort you home himself. After all, there are some real sickos out there.

So you agree. What’s the harm, right?

The harm, it just so happens, comes quickly after you finish drying the dishes Steve washes. You slide the last plate, towel dried as best you could, into his cabinets, sighing in contentment at a job well done. The harm is when Steve turns you around and presses you against the sink, water soaking into the back of your blouse, making the fabric cling to your skin. You stay there for a minute, not processing what’s happening, ready to laugh off another inappropriate joke from Steve. 

You don’t really get the chance.

Two heavy hands clap down on your shoulders, exerting pressure on you until you crumple to the floor, knees hitting the tile of Steve's kitchen painfully. You yelp, struggling against him, pressing, then beating your fist against his tree trunk legs. 

"Stev-" you choke on his name when your neighbour unzips his trousers before you, undoes the fly of the pair you helped him pick out, with him bent over your shoulder while you held his phone, his front pressed close to your back. Pulls his half hard dick out of pants starched and pressed with the iron he'd borrowed from you because his was "on the fritz" again. 

"Open up." He cajoles, and you pin him with an incredulous, confused stare. No. No. This is all wrong. He doesn’t act like that. Steve Rogers isn’t like that.

The hand he doesn't use to stroke himself grabs your jaw, squeezing until you open your mouth, squeezing til it hurts. A sharp, purposeful punch of his hips is all it takes for him to make use of the opening. All it takes to put every little joke, boundary crossing, and stray touch into startling, horrifying perspective.

“It was the baking.” He whispers above you. “Peggy never baked, which was fine.” He sighs above you like he isn’t pistoning his cock deep into your throat with reckless abandon. “But I missed it, y’know? And you, you bake how angels ought to, sweetheart.” 

Tears stream down your face while Steve uses you, dragging your dazed, crying face back and forth on his hard-on. On a particularly strong thrust, he broaches your throat. Your eyes roll up, until he can barely see the perimeter of your irises, and you warble out a miserable moan, begging, all while wrapped around his dick, for a reprieve. Your head is pinned to the counter behind you, and even though you shove against the muscle of his thighs, Steve brooks no quarter.

“Just take it,” he coos, like he wants you to swallow cough syrup, “it’ll be over soon.” his breath stutters when your lips brush against his balls. Steve moves one of his hands to cup the back of your head, keeping you as close as possible when he comes down your throat, groaning in pleasure while you struggle to swallow stream after bitter stream of his seed, lest you choke on it or fucking drown. 

He finally releases you, and you pull back so fast you bang the back of your head on his pristine white counters. The pain radiates through your scalp, grounding you in the moment, cementing you to the spotless linoleum floor of Steve Rogers’ kitchen. You’re both panting, eager to fill your lungs with gulps of air. 

“Whew.” He sighs, hands on his hips, like that took a lot out of him. “I didn’t mean to get so rough with you, just didn’t expect the struggle.” He chuckles, patting you on the head. “But you settled down quick, didn’t ya?” His tone takes on…contentment? Happiness? 

No. That’s not quite right. 

It’s pride. Steve is looking down at you, your spit and cum slick mouth, the weepy, watery state of your eyes, and the disarray of the hair he’d used as a handle, with pride.

Your stomach roils.

He bends low and you flinch away from him, smacking your head on the countertop again. He cocks his head at the involuntary movement, and smiles at you. A familiar, warm thing. One that made your heart flutter with pleasure, beat fast with your own surge of pride when he accepted a pie, or offered a compliment. Now it does the same, your heart speeds up, your palms itch curiously, and your brain doesn’t know if you’re happy or sad. Doesn’t know if it craves those smiles anymore. 

“Just wanna set you on your feet. C’mon.” He speaks quietly, like he’s soothing a frightened animal, and hooks his hand under your armpits, heaving you up with the same startling strength he'd used to face fuck the fight out of you.

“It’s okay.” You bleat, voice as wobbly and unstable as the pair of legs struggling to keep you upright. And it’s not, it’s far from okay, the taste of him lingers in the back of your throat and if you think about it for even a second more you’ll throw up all over his shiny floors, on those godforsaken pants.

“I admit,” he laughs, ducks his head with that small town charm he does so well, “I wanted to last longer. But you were too good.” He winks at you, like you share a secret. Like you’re in league with each other.

He staring, waiting for you to say something, arches a brow like it’s your line and you’re fucking up the show.

But there it is again, that smile, sunny and open, and so pristine.

“Let’s get you home.” He herds you towards his front door, hand glued to the small of your back, his pinky finger stroking the skin exposed by the riding up of your still wet shirt. The two of you walk into the balmy summer air, and the spaces in between the black night, punctuated with the occasional white streetlight, designate your path home. Some of your neighbours’ houses are still illuminated, their warm yellow windows denoting the presence of life. You wonder what goes on behind their doors, you wonder if someone is having a good night somewhere close to you.

You come across your door faster than you were prepared for, the cheery yellow paint job Steve and James had done for caramel apple pie, mocks you. The way he’d smiled in your face, touched you, laughed. Steve shifts next to you, holding onto your extensive tower of pyrex and tupperware, for an instant your blood runs cold at the prospect of Steve inviting himself in, like he’s done so many times before. Not to bring in groceries or put together a dresser, but to pin you prone to the carpet of your bedroom and smile at you.

“So!” He turns, “Same time next week?” You gawk at him, and when you don’t say or do anything, he stoops and slides your extra keys out from under your Garfield emblazoned doormat. The jingle of two, simple metal keys against the little bell shaped key-chain makes your head pound, your blood boil. He unlocks the door, and gestures for you to take a step indoors. You raise both hands, palms upturned so he can give the keys back, so you can hide them, or melt them, or flush them down the toilet. Instead, you get to watch him slip the key-ring into his pocket, before he places your dishes into your uplifted open palms. “I gotta say, the lemon bars were a hit.” He tweaks your nose between his thumb and forefinger, his compliment tempered by the greedy shine in his eyes. You nearly scratch your own eyes out when you get that pleased, soft tingle in your chest.

He smiles and you salivate. He compliments you and your heart responds. He’s proud and your brain tells you ‘I’m happy’.

Why hasn’t it gone away? Will it ever go away?

“Maybe those brownies again, the cream cheese ones?” His voice is hopeful, soft and pliant, like he’s worried you’ll say ‘no’.

Like there’s a world where he’d take no for an answer.

You nod, a jerky, quick gesture that rattles your brain around in your skull. “Sure. Yeah.” You answer, sweaty hands slipping against tempered glass and plastic lids. “Yes. Brownies.” Steve beams, clapping his hands together, once, loud, drawing your eyes to the brutish width of them.

“Fantastic. I can’t wait.” He jogs down your front steps, and the fist secured around your lungs loosens with every step he takes away from you. He pauses at the side walk, one foot still on your property, the other poised to leave it.

“We make a great team. Don’t we?” He turns to you, and this time, he isn’t smiling. This time, his eyes cut through the night and the streetlight and the foggy haze of misfortune clouding your brain.

And the fear finally comes.

You kick your door closed, and you lock your door, and you drop your pyrex and tupperwear and serving spoons in the sink and you lock your windows and you get into bed, still dressed for a poker night you had no business being at, and you pull the covers up and up and over your face.

But the fear doesn’t go away.

And neither will your neighbour.

god i want him so bad. tomorrow, captain soap.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

support city girls who bought $50 of baked cheesecake today, reblog what you like.

[cherryrikis]

ONE LESS LONELY GIRL - 011 ! my girl!

PAIRING idols riki x fem reader

SYNOPSIS fans always point out the chemistry between you and riki, and it only continues to grow after you become mc’s together on music bank. but as your feelings rise, so does the tension. and people begin to notice, so you try not to let riki know how you feel. but unbeknownst to you, he feels entirely the same way.

previous <> masterlist <> next

and just as planned, you were knocking on the door, at exactly 6:05pm.

when it opened, you were met with the smiling faces of jungwon, sunoo, and jake.

“hi y/n!” sunoo waved, before bringing you inside by your arm.

“hi guys. is riki done?” you asked, looking around the dorm. but he wasn’t there.

“almost. you can go upstairs if you want. first door to the right.” jungwon informed as he pointed you towards the direction of his shared room.

you nodded in acknowledgment before making your way upstairs. the door was slightly cracked, so you pushed it open with a loud noise to let riki know you were here. “shit! oh, hey y/n. but, look at this!” he exclaimed, running up to you to place his phone in your hands.

displayed on the screen, showed that the movie theater was closed due to renovation. “it’s okay, we can go somewhere else?” you suggested gently.

riki frowned, before swiping to open his messages app.

it was texts with their manager, which read, “no you can’t take the car. not just because you’re in the midst of a scandal, but also because the streets are flooded. just stay inside.”

“what?” you scoffed in shock. “it wasn’t even raining, there was no rain how could there have been a flood.”

but riki shut you down once more, gently pulling you by your waist to take you to his window. he pulled back the curtains which showed that it was in fact, storming. and that the streets were in fact flooded.

“what are we gonna do..” you groaned, falling back onto riki’s bed.

immediately, sunoo and jake came rushing inside. “you can watch the movie here!” jake said as he held the remote and a bag of popcorn, while sunoo carried bags of candy and a blanket.

but their enthusiasm was cut off, as riki got up from beside you to slam the door shut.

“this is a terrible idea.” he whisper shouted, knowing they were still waiting outside.

“why? it’s pretty cute. i wouldn’t mind an at-home date.” you smiled, taking his hands into your own.

“they’re all like, voluntary third wheels! they’re gonna be watching us the whole time. and they always eavesdrop. like right now.” riki emphasized the ‘right now’ by kicking the door, to which sunoo winced from the other side.

“please riki? it wouldn’t be so bad. we can make the most of this spoiled day. they’re just trying to help.” you encouraged.

“no.” “please? for meeeee? for your favorite girl?” you begged.

now riki really had no other choice, and for three reasons. one, he’s weak for you, especially when you beg. two, he hates when you use his words against him. three, there was literally no other choice because you knew he wouldn’t send you home.

“fine.” he sighed, giving in to you. riki pulled open his door, watching as jake and sunoo fell onto the floor,

and so, after washing off your makeup and changing into more comfortable clothes (riki’s oversized sweater and baggy sweats), you laid cuddled up together on his bed as deadpool 2 played in the background.

and of course, riki just had to keep his hand glued to your waist, as your head rested on his chest.

his bandmates were more chalant than they thought, coming in to ‘check on you two’ once every fifteen minutes.

jay even came in earlier, offering to buy the latest deadpool and wolverine movie because it’s what you originally were meant to watch at the theater. but, riki insisted it was fine.

“you know, i was gonna ask you out at the theater. that’s why i was so upset we couldn’t go. i wanted it to be special when i officially called you mine.” he whispered.

“is this not special?” you joked. “it is. just, not how i imagined it.”

“then, why don’t you ask me now?” you tilted your head up to look at him.

“okay then. yoon y/n, can i be your boyfriend. and make you my girlfriend?” he smiled.

“yes, nishimura riki. you can be my boyfriend. and i’ll be your girlfriend.” you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss on his lips before going back to your original position. you felt his grip tighten around you in a sense of security

it remained silent for a few moments, as you continued watching the movie.

“hm,” riki chuckled dryly, “i haven’t watched this movie before, but i like this part. it’s pretty funny.” he laughed, turning to face you after you’ve been silent for so long. but then he realized, you weren’t just silent, you had fallen asleep.

riki sighed at your resting face, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “there’s no way you fell asleep right after i asked you out..”

he leaned down to peck your forehead. “goodnight y/n.” riki mumbled.

“goodnight riki.” you murmured drowsily.

TAGLIST (italics = couldnt be tagged) @hannicorpse @luvvhaerin @chaevibes @en-verse @ren2jay @choppedballoondetective @heartheejake @imanalien143 @istglevi-gotmesimping @yndairy @eleanorheartschishiya @lonelylandofan @gweoriz @jaemified @onlyhyunjin @softpia @frecklesbrownies @riksaes @wensurr @rikifordmiami @brideslit @ant-onie @yumilovesloona @aeminju @hoonics @catecita @clampclover @rei4sunoo @addictedtohobi @rikidaze @baekxo07 @xotyla @melancholy-z @rikisgeef @jung1w0n @tocupid @onlyseung @i03jae @iheartshopping @istphanie @queenriki7 @academiq @1117promises @nctislifue @haechansbbg @rairaiblog @nabia-bia @pkjay @lixiebokie @hiekoo @r1kizerr @d-dilemma @kingofthekards @iilwji @hoonatic @woorcve @enhaz1

[schoenpepper]

Rook Vs. Ramshackle

Intro: Ramshackle's in tatters and Crowley's a bitch. Luckily, your boyfriend is here to make things better! or worse idk

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, not proofread i got lazy with the format, Rook is a warning in his own right, a sprinkling of suggestiveness at the end

A/N: This is also a request so @voidlesslove I hope you like it. Kinda short, I don't think I had all too much inspiration with this one, kids.

Masterlist

Your dorm is never in good condition, constantly falling apart at the seams (literally). Crowley's stinginess with your allowance definitely doesn't help with all the repairs you need just to make the place livable.

You've had just about enough when your door cracks off its hinges and almost turns Grim into a tuna-filled cat pancake.

Enter your boyfriend: Rook!

He's always watching (affectionately), so the hunter comes to the rescue of his cutie in distress and pops up from a bush on your way from classes.

"Bonjour, mon amour! I have heard of your plight and have come to your aide."

"Hi Rook, there's a leaf on your hat."

Being the caring lover he is, he's more than happy to spend his own money to buy materials. (You turn him down when he offers to hire a renovation company)

The most important thing is that he will be paying for a majority of the items, can't have you floundering about due to a lack of cash, no no.

Surprisingly (unsurprisingly?) good with woodwork! He makes you a whole new door because the one to your bedroom doesn't lock + has holes that he could peep through.

He doesn't peep through your door though, he promises he looks through your window it has a better view.

Fixes up the floors with you and teaches you how to use the tools if you didn't know before.

Probably makes interconnecting rooms in some of the walls for future use (???)

It's okay, you'll never find out.

Treats you to roasted meat while you're both filthy af so you can take a nice little break before going back to repairing the holes in your roof.

What's this? Rats? Cockroaches? Any sort of living organism unwanted by his amour? Non, not anymore 🥰

Tell him you like Grim before the kitty cat gets purged.

The next day when Ramshackle is fully livable again (he had to actually call in professionals for plumbing and gas he cannot DIY that even if he tried), he gives you a bouquet of your favorite flowers as a housewarming gift!

Don't be too surprised when his hands start wandering during the hug though.

You've both been busy for a good few weeks and he thinks it's only right his hard work is repaid, no?~

[dreamauri]

WHEN IS THE NEXT CHAPTER OF My love mine all mine COMING OUT BCZ IM INVESTED

┇𝗠𝗬 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘 - part five ┇୧ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ :🪴: ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ୨୧ ╮ ┇arranged marriage does not always hold ┇the outcome you expect !! ┇︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦˚₊   ┇ . 🌿 :: pairing — ( max vertsappen  x  wife! reader ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠genre — ( romance + smut )  ┇ . 🌿 :: ⁠song — ( link ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠word count — ( 1, 047 ) ╰  🌿 :: ⁠ content warning — ( oral f receiving )

★ ☆ 🫡 ━━━━━━━

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous | next )

"First driving lesson. Are you ready?" "Absolutely not."

You gave a smile and thumbs up to the camera recording you and your husband, whilst max adjusted the strap to your helmet. "Learning to drive in a fast car is a bad idea." You warned him. looking around the controls to the NSX.

"It's not a bad idea." Max assured you, reaching over and buckling you up. "It very much is, liefje." [baby] You dismissed, looking out the open window to the Red Bull team filming you guys from the outside. "Can we get a slower car? I feel like We'd be much safter in . . . I have no idea. A slow car. A Kia maybe?."

Max laughed at you. "Are you serious? A kia? You think I'm a bad teacher." "No!" You turned to him quickly, holding his hands. He was teasing you but you still felt the need to make sure he knew. "Max, you're an amazing teacher. But you being intact is more for our home race is more important than me learning drive."

"You don't like my birthday present?" He gasped, putting his hand on his chest, being dramatic. "I—" you pulled him in a kiss only for your headgear to bump into his and stop you. "ow . . . I was gonna say I love it." Max laughed at you, leaning his head on the window while your glared at him.

"Where's the go and stop." You were commanding him now, putting both your hands on the steering wheel.

You did eventually get the basics, you were to scared to lift your leg off the brake that the car was literally only moving for a meter before it came to a full stop. The process of breaking every few seconds continued until max was able to get you confident in yourself to drive a steady 40 kilometre per hour around the long straight.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"How is it, with the wife." "My wife?" Max's eyes light up at the mention of you. He was up onstage in the fan zone, sitting on a stool with checo and an f1 presenter. "Married life, how is it?"

"Well, I didn't know if the video went out yet, but i just gave her her first driving lesson this morning—" "really?" Natalie pink ham butted in, giggling.

"Is that what that was?" Checo laughed along with the crowd.

"I mean, no offense, Shatje; she sucks at driving. But it's nice to have that contrast, because I cannot paint or cook for the life of me." He laughed, leaning back to look at the side stage where you stood, smiling at him. "She's gonna kill me when we get home. Look at that smile."

The crowd erupted in laughter. Max waved you a hi, even though he was spending the whole day with you. You rolled your eyes playfully, folding your arms. You couldn't help the smile that curled on your lips as you looked at the cute puppy of a Dutch f1 driver. "Beautiful smile." Max chuckled, turning back to the fans.

You two were stuck to each other after the interview, sitting all cozied up in the hospitality, snuggled up to each other as you scrolled through your phone, both of you judging the décor and furniture you would need to renovate.

"This wallpaper is nice." You hum, pressing on the image. "My love, we don't need wallpaper. We have you." You chuckled, shaking your head. "I'm serious, you're very talented." He tilted your chin up kissing you.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Maxie!" you called through the house, peaking out of the bathroom door. You peaked down the foreign Belgian house, looking down the hall looking for your husband. "Maxie!" You called louder. "Ja, schat?" [yes, love]

"Kun je een handdoek voor me halen? . . alstublieft." [can you get me a towel, please]

"Wat? ik kan je niet horen."[what? i cant hear you] he called back. You could hear the faint noise of the tv from where max sat in the living room.

"Towel, Max." You sighed. What was he watching, foot ball? "I'm wet, and I'm cold and I'm naked—" yep that did it. You heard his footsteps run up the stairs at the word, his fluff of blond peaked from behind the wall to try and see you.

But you thought before hand and hid your body behind the door so all Max could see was your wet and messy hair and smile as you repeated the word. "Towel."

He pouted with a huff as he stomped to your room, returning seconds later with a fluffy towel. "Thank you." You hum, pulling the towel in with you, disappearing behind the door. Only, the towel was pulling from you. You peaked out the door to see Max holding the opposite corner, puppy eyes as he looked at you.

"Max, not now." You whispered feeling your face redden with embarrassment as he tried to peak in. "één kus, één kus." [one kiss, one kiss] you pleaded and you couldn't say no, leaning in and granting him his wish.

Well, you ended up granting him another wish as well because asking for one kiss turned into two kiss turned into 6 turned into 20 and so on. Which led you to being eaten out for the first time while sitting on the edge of the bathtub, hand entangled in blond locks, with gasps leaving your mouth.

You didn't know what max was doing, head between his thighs, eyes staring up at you as he licked and sucked and lapped and did things you never imagined of before. Your body shivered each time his warm tongue would drag across your gummy walls or take your bud into his mouth. You didn't even realize it when your orgasm dawned on you, heaving with whines and whimpers.

You caught his lips once he was back to your height and max was quick to return the favour, savouring your lips as he pulled you straight to your feet to his bedroom, 2 and a half hours from zandvoort f1 circuit; but he wanted you to have your first time in a home, under the moonlight of his windows.

Which you've got to admit, was a magical night.

[toomuchracket]

i wanna marry you (birthday party!matty x reader fluff)

tiny little fluffy slice of life. enjoy <3

“i wish it was next week already.”

you smile at matty’s words, snuggling further into the warmth of his bare chest and letting him entwine your left hands. the sunlight streams through the living room doors and glints off your engagement ring, and you suddenly get very giddy about the fact that it’ll do the same to your wedding rings in a few days’ time. “gonna be the longest week of our lives, i think, waiting to get married.”

“don't jinx it, please,” he groans, burying his face into you - you smile even wider when you feel him kiss you. “i’d marry you this instant, if i could.”

you hum happily. part of you agrees with him, to be honest; the summer evening is romantic enough, curled up on the sofa with a bottle of wine and the remains of dinner left on the coffee table, the dog snoozing at your feet and music playing softly through the house’s interconnected speaker system. that was only added in the minor renovations that took place when you moved in, a result of you telling matty you love how he’s weaved music into and throughout your life since being together, and him liking the metaphor so much he wanted it to be literal.

but still - “the wedding’s gonna be perfect, though,” you twirl his hair around your finger. “can't think of better circumstances in which to become yours forever officially.”

“neither can i, my love. mon amour, i should say, s’pose.”

you giggle. “if you do that bad of an accent while we’re in france, they’ll exile you.”

he hums. “like napoleon.”

“indeed,” you sigh dramatically. “and god knows what that would do for the people already mocking you for being short.”

matty laughs, the stupid cackle you love so much, and lightly pinches your hip. “you're so weird, babe,” he gently moves your head so you can look at each other properly; the love in those pretty brown eyes is so palpable you could drown in them. “but i love you so much. so much.”

“i love you,” smiling, you bring a hand to caress your fiancé's pretty face, heart fluttering when he turns to kiss your palm. “can't wait to be weirdos together for the rest of our lives.”

“that is literally us, isn't it? a pair of weirdos, with our dog,” matty looks at you shyly. “and maybe, at some point… also with a baby?”

you nod, pressing your forehead against his as if you could share the thoughts in your mind with him, thoughts of the tiny cheeky-smiled dark-haired baby girl that seem to have taken up permanent residence in your brain since the pregnancy scare from almost three years ago. “definitely with a baby. m'also seeing a cat somewhere in our future, too.”

“well now i think we're going a bit far.”

you laugh. “guess we'll just have to see what happens. but right now,” you softly kiss him, savouring the way his eyes flutter when you pull away. “i'm more than happy with just being your wife. don't need anything else - just you, and me. a bed, preferably.”

matty smiles, kissing you. “can i take you there now, my girl?”

“yes, please.”

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 8 (18+)

a/n: gentle reminder, this takes place prior to the halloween party. thank you @yonaofyourmom for editing & shmeems for proofreading.

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’. You're one of the four girls chosen and find that your duties for the rest of the school year will be cooking, cleaning, and pleasing your assigned house members: Hyunjin & Bang Chan.

[ read chapter seven here ]

Chapter Eight: Of Drive-Ins and Wishes

The following Saturday afternoon, Chan suggests everyone get out the house while renovations on the first floor study take place. Chan says he will stay back to supervise and Lee Know, Jeongin and Rhiannon also opt out so they can complete assignments—approved only under the promise they’ll stay out of the way. 

The remaining eight of you are sitting in the living room, deciding what to do. You’re sitting on the couch next to Hyunjin, his arm slung around your shoulder, your hand intertwined with his. Felix finally makes a suggestion that’s unanimously agreed upon by everyone. Just as everyone stands to disperse, thinking that’s the last of the back and forth, Changbin brings up which cars to take and who’s riding with who. 

“Let’s mix it up,” he suggests, coming to wedge himself between you and Hyunjin. 

“Hyung,” Hyunjin says, looking down at Changbin with an annoyed expression. 

“On the count of three,” Changbin continues, smiling up at him sweetly. “Everybody hold up a number—one, two, or three and that will be the groups.” 

Hyunjin looks at you, over Changbin. You squint at him, holding a finger to your temple as if it will help telepathically communicate the number you’ll choose. He squints back, mimicking your actions.

“One, two…three!”

You hold up three fingers and immediately look to Hyunjin, but he’s holding up two. He smacks his lips, seeing that he and Changbin are holding up the same number. 

“I know you,” Changbin says with a smile. “‘Lix, you’re with us.” 

Seungmin, Charlotte and Allie all held up one. Seungmin laughs, wraps one arm around Charlotte’s shoulder, then walks to Allie to wrap his other around her. 

“A win is a win,” he declares.

Han is the only other person that held up three fingers. He gives you a thumbs up.

Everyone splits up to grab comfort items for the car. You head to Chan’s room for your neck pillow and blanket. He’s laying on his bed, laptop on his thighs. He looks up when you enter. 

“Just need to get something,” you tell him.

“Where you headed?” He asks.

“The drive-in movies,” you say, grabbing your pillow and blanket from the top shelf of his closet. 

He’s nodding quietly when you turn to face him.  

“Have fun,” he replies before turning his attention back to his laptop.

His tone reminds you of your first night in the house—when he told you to enjoy your night with Hyunjin. It makes you feel as though you’ve done something wrong again. He doesn’t look up from the screen as you linger in the room, wanting to say something, but unsure what.

You leave without saying a word. Sexual exploits aside, your friendship with Chan has not progressed much. 

Back downstairs, Han is waiting for you near the door. He holds the car keys out as you approach.

“You’re driving,” he announces. 

You take the keys and nod, following him out the house. The others are getting into their cars—Changbin has decried the red Tesla is the Bro-sla as he, Hyunjin and Felix climb inside.You wave to Hyunjin before getting in your car for the night with Han. You buckle up and have to wait for the other cars to leave the driveway so you can back out. Han’s phone starts to ring as you drive—it’s Felix and Seungmin on a group FaceTime call.

“We’re stopping for snacks,” Felix says. 

“You could have just texted that,” Seungmin replies. 

“Yeah, and we’re literally following behind you,” is Han’s retort. 

“Rude,” Felix huffs and the call disconnects. 

You drive for a while before stopping at a gas station. You all descend upon the store, walking through the aisles of junk food. As you’re deciding what kind of sour candy to get, slender, muscular arms wrap around your waist and you inhale the familiar sent of Hyunjin. 

“Save me,” he pleads, resting his head on your shoulder. 

“I wish I could, but Changbin really wants you with him tonight, apparently,” you tease. 

“Tell him you’re mine,” you lean back against him. 

Hyunjin reaches forward and grabs a bag of M&M’s. You grab a pack of sour punch straws. 

“He won’t listen,” Hyunjin shakes his head.

As if on cue, Changbin rounds the corner with an armful of chips and candy. 

“Hey,” he barks, narrowing his eyes at you, “He’s my date tonight.”

Hyunjin audibly groans.

“Always playing hard to get,” Changbin snickers and winks at you. 

When you all make it to the register, the cashier looks at the eight of you as if you’re insane. You each checkout, group by group, then head back to the cars as you finish. 

You and Han are last to exit. The others have already left. 

“Do you not like driving?” You ask as the two of you get back on the road.

“I hate it,” Han admits. 

“You want to be a passenger princess forever?”

He turns to look at you with all seriousness before replying, “Yes.”

As you drive, you learn that Han is getting his minor in communications. Apparently it’s been forced on him by his dad. He’s not a fan of public speaking or even conversing with people he doesn’t know. He’s adamant that his oral speaking classes have only made things worse.

Listening to Han speak, you consider what their lives outside of what you’ve witnessed must be like. Their futures have already seemingly been plotted out for them. They know what kind of work they’ll be doing after graduation—taking over various family businesses and whatnot. But hearing Han express how he doesn’t even have control over what classes he takes makes you feel sad. It’s an odd thing…they seem like they have so much—a nice home, nice cars, in fact, they’ve never appeared even remotely worried about money. But at what cost? What are they sacrificing for themselves, for their own wants and desires of their life? 

You arrive at the drive-in, purchase tickets and drive along the dirt path to the third screen as instructed. You see the car with Seungmin, Allie and Charlotte and park right next to them. Hyunjin, Changbin and Felix arrive soon after. The sun is beginning to set as Seungmin brings over a large bucket of popcorn to you and Han.

Han tunes the radio to the specified station to hear the audio as you try to organize the popcorn and snacks in the car without making a mess. The drive-in is playing classic horror and Halloween films throughout the month.Tonight they’re playing Jeepers Creepers and Hocus Pocus, a double feature.

The movie starts to play, but you and Han talk throughout it. You both agree that added commentary makes a horror film slightly less scary. 

“I have the same philosophy about sad films,” Han reveals. “If I’m watching with other people, I have to try not to cry.”

You laugh “Aww, Hannie.”

You reach a hand out to ruffle his hair. 

“Don’t tell the others my tactics.”

You tap your hand over your heart and nod. 

“Now why would they go back?” Han draws your attention back to the movie. “That’s how you get murdered!” He cups his hands around his mouth to amplify his words. 

The sound of you both munching on popcorn fills the car. Your conversation lulls as you both watch, eyes wide open seeing what lies beneath the Church. The bodies sewn to the wall.

“I can’t,” Han shakes his head and turns to face you. He rests his elbows on the center console and props his head up in his hands. “So.”

You laugh and adjust yourself face to him as well. 

“So,” you echo. “May I ask a question?”

“Please,” he nods eagerly. 

“What would happen if any of you decided to go against the grain?” You ask. You remember Hyunjin explaining they would all major in business and take over various family obligations after graduating. “Like, if you chose not to major in business and did what you actually wanted instead?”

“I don’t know, honestly,” he clearly hadn’t suspected such an inquiry. “I haven’t ever asked or thought about it, really. It’s just kind of been the status quo we’ve all followed since we were little. We do as we’re told, and we’ll be rewarded with a fortunate life.” He pauses for a moment to consider. “I guess we’d probably be cut off and forced to fend for ourselves.”

It’s hard for you to imagine. You parents have always supported you pursuing what you’re passionate about. You chose major in Biology and minor in Animal science, with a goal of becoming a veterinarian and you cannot fathom your parents forcing you to do something else to appease them. The members of SKZ are from a different cultural background, maybe this is normal to them. 

“And after graduation you all just go back to Korea, regardless of the friends and lives you’ve made here?”

“Yeah,” he nods. 

“That seems unfair, Han,” you say sadly.

“It’s not really, I mean, it’s part of the reason we have you all here.”

His words cause you to furrow your brow. You want to probe further, but you’re interrupted by Felix, asking for some of your popcorn, saying Hyunjin and Changbin devoured theirs. Han pours some from your bucket into theirs. After that, the two of you gorge on the food and continue to supply commentary to the movie for an hour and a half until the credits start to roll. 

“Now I’m going to think about that for the next several summers,” Han says.

“Just don’t take any road trips through Florida, and you’ll be fine,” you reassure him. 

The others start to get out of their cars, stretching their legs and taking bathroom breaks before the next movie starts. The guys and girls head off in separate groups.

Charlotte and Allie tell you Seungmin continuously scared the shit out of them the entire time. He let them take the two front seats and would randomly pull at their hair, tap their arm or jump between them and scream at the scary parts of the movie. 

Once you’ve all used the bathroom, you head back to the cars and settle in for the second movie. This time it’s Hocus Pocus. 

As the movie plays on, you become acutely aware of how much Han’s phone is vibrating. 

“Everything okay?” You ask.

“Yeah…I’ll…I’ll be right back,” he says before exiting the car. 

You lean the chair back and adjust the neck pillow. The passenger door opens again and you turn to see Hyunjin, not Han, entering. He plants himself in the seat and smiles sweetly at you. 

“Where’s Han?” You ask. 

“I convinced him to switch,” he responds.

“What about Changbin?” You peek over his shoulder to look out the window. You wouldn’t be surprised if he came up to it and demanded Hyunjin return to him. 

“He’ll survive,” he replies. 

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips. Hyunjin returns the smile. He hooks one finger under your chin and leans over to kiss you. Your eyes flutter shut as his lips meet with yours. His touch is always so tender and delicate—as if you’re a precious flower he’s trying to keep from wilting. 

You kiss him slowly, thankful for the tinted windows on the car that allows you a bit of privacy. Having him here with you now, secluded, the last thing on your mind is the movie you’ve already seen countless times. You sit up, lean over the center console and hook one hand around his neck to force him against you harder. Your other hand reaches for his wrist. 

You grab hold of it and guide it beneath the blanket covering you. You rest it at the top of your jeans and he chuckles against your mouth. You have yet to feel his touch there. You know and appreciate that he’s taking things slowly with you. You don’t want to swing the door completely open just yet, but it could be nice to crack it open a teeny bit.

He tugs on your jeans until the button is freed and then slides down the zipper. He breaks the kiss and you feel him leaning over you. You open your eyes as his hand leaves your zipper to reach around the side of the seat. He lowers it back more—the loud and slow mechanical whirring of the chair as he hovers over you waiting causes you both to giggle about the situation you’re in. 

He readjusts the blanket covering you. 

“You okay with this?” He asks, his hand returning to its place at your jeans.

“More than.”

Part of you expected some resistance, thinking maybe he’d tell you that you’re still not ready. You’re happy he didn’t. 

He props one arm on the center console as his hands slip beneath your jeans and underwear. He moves them down to cup your pussy with his hand, applying pressure to your clit.

He slides one finger up and down your slit, playing in the moisture you release. His eyes are locked in on your face, watching every movement, every flutter of your eyes, every parting of your lips while he plays with you. You should feel afraid, doing this in a car surrounded by others, but you’re not. You’re too focused on him, watching as his eyes flicker from your lips back up to your eyes. This is the furthest you two have gone, but you don’t feel shy or nervous under his gaze. You feel beautiful…appreciated. 

He leans closer to you as he pushes his fingers inside. His nose brushes along the side of yours and you turn your head to kiss him. He moves back.

“Tell me what’s happening in the movie,” he says softly. 

He moves closer to you again, nuzzling your nose once more. You’re reminded of the way he playfully teased you on your first night together. In truth, you hadn’t seen this side of him since then. After you returned to him from Chan last week his entire approach with you had shifted. 

His version of teasing doesn't make you feel inferior or afraid that he’d ever leave you squirming on a bed, desperate to come.

“We can’t both miss it,” he says in response to your silence.  

“They’re going to, uhm the…fuck.” You look back at him, licking your lips as he starts to curl his fingers against your inner walls. You spread your legs as far apart as you can. 

“Focus, baby,” he coos into your ear. 

Baby? How the fuck does he want you to focus after calling you that?

“They’re trick-or-treating,” you breathe, rocking your hips against his fingers. “Max is a little leaguer and Dani is uh, uhm…a witch.”

You hear him chuckle. He kisses along your jawline, down to your neck. He lightly sucks and nips at the skin there as his fingers continue to fuck you. 

“I don’t–I don’t know,” you groan. And you don’t feel afraid to say it to him, to divert from his game. “I wish we weren’t in this stupid fucking car right now.”

“I know,” he agrees, leaning back from your neck to look you in the eyes again. “I wish I could see your pussy.”

You shake your head and turn away from his dirty talk.

“No? You don’t want me to see it?” He goads. “I bet it’s fucking gorgeous—all pink and tender and wet for me.”

You moan, arching your back as you listen to him. You’ve yet to see this side of him and it’s turning you on more than you care to admit. Hwang Hyunjin—the boy with a face sculpted in the image of the Gods, praising you?

“Mmmm,” he hums, lips back against your cheek. “I wish I could put my mouth on you. I wish I could taste you, to fuck you with my tongue.” 

“Oh fuck, Hyunjin,” you exhale. You want all of those things and more. You wish you weren’t as clothed right now, wish his kisses could go beyond your neck, down to your breasts. You wish his mouth and tongue were on your nipples. You wish he could see every part of you he hasn’t yet. 

You push the blanket away and look down to watch his fingers move in and out of you. He rests his head against your shoulder, eyes downcast, watching too. You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling on the strands, feeling your release approaching. 

“Right there, please,” you say, “don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. He wouldn’t. And you feel comfort knowing that. His fingers keep thrusting into you, curling and pressing against you on their way out as his thumbs continues to circle your clit. He raises his head and kisses you again. He alternates between slowly sliding his tongue against yours and biting on your bottom lip, moaning softly and it’s enough to send your over the edge. 

He doesn’t change a single thing about his movements, intent to see you through your orgasm with the same motions that brought you to it. You let out a long, low moan as you come, squeezing unable to focus on kissing him any longer. He kisses all along your cheek as the waves course through you. 

When it finally ceases, you grab his arm with your hand to halt his movements. He withdraws his fingers from you and brings them to his mouth. He sucks your juices off and you watch in a haze, once again contemplating the likelihood of losing your sanity between him and Chan this school year. 

[ read chapter nine here ]

a/n: now we are back on track. there will be some minor changes to chapter 9, but nothing that requires you to read it again, unless you want a refresher before chapter 10 is posted. share your thoughts 🩵

taglist: @iflmho / @skzstaykatsy / @blackhairandbangs / @ayoitschannie / @idunnomanmynamewastaken / @charmer-c / @ihatemen55 / @channiesprincess / @channniesslefttt / @jiwoos-babygirl / @krayzieestay / @kayleefriedchicken / @sunnyhonie / @cotton-candycloudz / @lubsungie / @conwunder / @puckmaidens / @ashleighland / @hyunjiinnnn / @bmnyy / @ihrtlix / @maqqiekwon / @hynxnelly / @teti-menchon0604 / @you-make-skz-stay / @zandra-42 / @seungminindabuilding / @slytherinatheart / @loveuwoo / @hyunjinhoexxx / @chartrucewhore

[hannie-dul-set]

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS [2].

SYNOPSIS. wherein your friend offers a room for you to crash in while your dorm is being renovated, but fails to mention that your new housemates don’t know how to talk to women (oh, and they also have an ongoing bet about you, too).

PAIRINGS. choi soobin, choi beomgyu, lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. housemates! au, rom-com, sitcom, reverse harem time baby. WARNINGS. mentions of dicks and balls and nudity, mentions of sex, mild manipulation, someone cries at one point, the usual amount of swearing. WORD COUNT. 3.3k.

TAGLIST. @cerealdreamwriter @tyongff-ff @dinonuguaegi @certifiedmoa @blueberrgyuu0 @primantha @blu3bell4 @nunugget @hoshi-is-ult-bbg

NOTE. whatever the bet they have is, it's definitely one of the three things you're thinking about. per usual, please let me know what you think about this trainwreck so far!

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 2 — the inevitable disasters of living with six men.

FOR THE MOST PART, LIVING IN YOUR NEW TEMPORARY HOME HAS BEEN FINE. It’s similar to living in the dorms, but a lot more hygienic and a lot less stressful considering you don’t need to use your earplugs at the dead of night anymore. Your housemates all surprisingly tend to themselves, minding their own business on the day-to-day.

Jake makes sure you feel welcomed by introducing you to the extensive LEGO collection in his room which is taking him more than a week, you have never seen Soobin come out of his room again after he got jumpscared by your Victoria’s Secret on the first day, and Heeseung smiles and says hi to you but never fails to demonstrate his superhuman agility by swerving out of your way when you cross paths in the narrower hallways, making sure he never touches you. You also hear questionable screams of anguish from Beomgyu’s room whenever you come down for water at 3 a.m., you often have breakfast cereal with Jay and he always makes sure to refill your Cheerios while saying “to make your day a lot more cheery-oh,” and sometimes— when you’re particularly lucky— you and Sunghoon would emerge from your bedrooms at the same time and he’d stare you down, like usual, until you finally smile at him and he breaks into a cold sweat before either retreating back into his room or downstairs.

It’s great. Living with Jake and his friends is so great.

Until it’s not. Because you’re living with six men, and that statement in itself is bound to harbor problems.

Case in point—

“Who the fuck ate my ice cream?”

It’s early in the morning. Heeseung, Beomgyu, Jake, and Jay are all gathered around the kitchen island as you witness the murder scene in the fridge. You turn around, revealing the opened pint of mint chocolate that has a very noticeable chunk taken out from its creamy, minty center. “Not me.” Beomgyu is the first to defend himself. “You’re the only one in this house that even likes that toothpaste shit.”

“Say that again.” You slam the fridge door shut, looking him dead in the eye. “I dare you. Say that shit again.”

You wait. You continue staring at Beomgyu until he breaks into a nervous sweat and lets out a cough after tearing his head away. A victorious grin stretches on your face. “Thought so, punk.”

“That’s not fucking fair. You can’t pull that crap!”

“What crap?” you press further. Beomgyu isn’t able to challenge your stare again so he resorts to hopping off the stool with a groan and disappears into the living room. That’s another victory in your books. “Anyway, seriously— which one of you ate my ice cream? I won’t get mad. Just be honest and tell me.”

Jake fidgets in his seat. “Are you sure someone ate it?” 

“There’s a hole! There’s literally a singular hole!” You’re sure one of them took a bite before realizing their major fuck up and discreetly returning your pint into the freezer. Jay chokes back a giggle. The three of them are looking at each other. Oh my god, they’re all children. “Heeseung. Do you know what happened?”

The man in question suddenly jolts in his seat and straightens his shoulders. “N-no, no I don’t,” he sputters out. “I really don’t know.”

“I think he does,” inserts Jay.

“I think he does, too.” You settle the violated ice cream on the counter before marching up to the panic-stricken accused. He tries to run away, but you’ve memorized all his evasive tactics. You know how this bastard operates, so you slam your arm down over the counter as a barricade before he could book it. “Heeseung, did you kill my ice cream?”

“I did not!” he exclaims.

“Who did it, then?”

“I don’t know— ask Sunghoon!”

Just in time. Sunghoon is mid-stride into the kitchen, but makes an immediate u-turn the moment he hears his name. You’ve just about had it. You manage to grab him back by the scruff of his shirt and yank him down with a harsh tug. “Holy shit,” Jake breathes out. Sunghoon tries to pry himself off with a grunt, but you have an iron grip on his collar.

“Talk,” you spit out. “Tell me who ate my ice cream. I’ve had enough of your silent treatment, Park Sunghoon. You better spit it out, right now.”

This time, he succeeds by grabbing you by the wrist and almost flips you over, before settling with twisting your arm instead. “I don’t fucking know!”

“Ow!”

You hold your forearm close to your chest. That was the first time he’s ever spoken to you and you would’ve thought his voice was pretty until he decided to cuss you out. “Well damn, you don’t need to be a total bitch about it.” Sunghoon’s expression sinks. He grumbles and turns back out of the kitchen. You let out a sigh, quickly returning your attention to the three boys on the counter before they can get the opportunity to run away. “None of you are leaving until you tell me who the culprit is.”

Heeseung squirms nervously under your stare. The other two are out of hot water because they don’t seem to know anything. It takes him thirty seconds to break. “Soobin hyung said— said something about making a mistake so I think you should— wait, hold on!”

Too late. You’re already marching up the stairs. You can hear the scrambling of footsteps following after you, but you don’t stop, not until you reach his room and you lift your fist up to gingerly knock on Soobin’s door. Two knocks. And then three. You hear the knob click before a small gap cracks open— wide enough for you to flash the hesitant Choi Soobin a malicious grin. Within a second, all the color drains from his face and he tries slamming the door back shut, but you wedge your foot into the gap quick enough to stop him.

Fuck. It hurts like a bitch. You’re biting down your tongue and trying your best to maintain a smile. “Let’s talk, yeah?” You kick the door open and Soobin stumbles back to avoid the violent swing.

It’s the first time you’re entering someone else’s room. You hope you don’t get sued for breaking and entering.

“I believe we have yet to formally introduce ourselves to each other, Mr. Choi Soobin, but you see, there has been a conundrum,” you start, walking into his personal space, inch-by-inch, step-by-step and he slowly backs away. “A crime scene, if you will. Yesterday, on my way home from work, I bought a delicious pint of mint chocolate ice cream from the 7-Eleven just outside the subdivision. You’ve been there, right?”

The back of his legs hit the cushion of his bed when there’s no space left for him to back into. “Soobin.” Your voice is sharp, slicing into the air, and Soobin stumbles back onto the mattress. “Have you been there?” you repeat your question. He nods, throat bobbing when he swallows down nothing. 

Maybe you’re pushing it, but you’re having way too much fun. Let’s just say you’re getting even. “Well, I left that pint of ice cream untouched in the freezer because it was already really, really late at night,” you continue. “I intended to eat it this morning, but imagine my surprise when I opened the pint to find a huge, gigantic hole in the middle! Almost as if someone dug a spoon and stole a bite of my mint chocolate ice cream.”

Soobin flinches everytime you hiss out a word with too much enunciation. You’re practically looking down on the giant man. His face is drenched in guilt. He’s got nowhere to run now. 

“Do you know what happened, Soobin?”

Too much. Maybe you pushed it a little too much this time because all of sudden— he’s in tears. He’s actually fucking crying. 

“...Soobin…?”

“I—I didn’t know it was yours! It was— it was late at night and I was half asleep, so I—I—I thought it was the choco chip ice cream I bought the other day, put when I put it in my mouth, it tasted horrendous, and that’s when I knew I did something horribly wrong.” There are fat tears rolling down his flushed cheeks and he’s close to breaking into a fit of hiccups. Oh no. Oh, for fuck’s sake. “I’m sorry, I’m so—sorry, please forgive me, I—”

“H-hey— it’s fine, it’s alright, I was just messing around!” Your palms and fingers are now all wet trying to console him while wiping off his tears. The last time you had to comfort a grown man was when you watched Hi Bye, Mama! with your friends, so needless to say, you’re lacking in that skill department and are thus, also freaking out. The only thing you’re getting out of this is the discovery that Soobin’s skin is unfairly soft. What the hell is his skincare routine? “It was a joke! A joke! You know what, you can have all my ice cream from now on! So, please just stop crying—”

“Oh my god.”

You snap your head back to see the rest of the boys gathered outside the door, but that’s the least of your concerts at the moment because you think you’ve just traumatized Soobin a second time within two weeks you started living here. “You monster. You made Soobin hyung cry,” Beomgyu announces from behind, and you shoot him a glare.

“Do you want me to make you cry next?”

“I think I’m good.”

Soobin finally calms down after that and you’re all subsequently kicked out. You knock on his bedroom door the next day with three more pints of ice cream (different flavors) as a peace offering and though you’re sure the both of you are cool now, he still starts sweating when you try to make eye contact with him. You also haven’t caught the bastard that keeps on depleting your kisses stash yet, but you’ll find him eventually.

And that was just one of your problems. The next issue you have is a little less dessert related, and little more—

“Fuck! Put some pants on, for shit’s sake!”

The amount of times you’ve almost seen a pair of balls hanging around shouldn’t be legal. You finally decide to round them all up in the living room for a discussion one day because it’s been getting out of hand.

“Listen,” you start your speech. The six of them are sitting around the sofa as you stand in front of them, arms crossed, and all. “I understand that you’re all used to living by yourselves for a very long time now. Trust me, I really do. But to be completely frank, I also really don’t want to see any dick and balls outside the bedroom, you know? I get enough unsolicited dick pics already.”

Jay looks like he wants to say something. “So, does that mean it’s okay if it’s inside the bedroom?” You give him a look. He politely puts his hands on his lap. “Sorry.”

“Anyway,” you continue. “Old habits die hard. I understand that. But someones these habits need to be broken for the sake of a peaceful cohabitation. That is why I thought of a countermeasure.” You tap on the large jar that’s been sitting on the coffee table since their arrival. All eyes are on the container. “Every time someone accidentally flashes anyone— of course, that includes myself— they have to put money in the Preservation of Dignity Jar as a penalty.”

“PD&J.”

“Yes. Thank you for your input, Jay. Jake, you’re raising your hand?”

Jake lowers his arm and clears his throat. “Who gets the money once the jar is full?”

“Very good question.” He looks proud of himself. You give him a smile. “All the money goes to me because of how much you guys have violated my eyes within two weeks of living here.”

“That makes sense,” Sunghoon nods at your proposal. Of course he does. He’s the biggest culprit out of the lot.

“That’s not fair!” Beomgyu interjects. “It’s not like I want you to see my dick!”

You give him a smile and he flinches back down into his seat. “So, is it my fault for walking into an unlocked bathroom?”

“Knock first!”

“I do, and you bitches never fucking answer!”

“Okay!” A clap resounds in the room. Heeseung makes an attempt to resolve the spat. “How about we all get the money in the jar?”

“None of your socialist bullshit, Heeseung. The most deprived should get all the money in full.” He winces the moment you step a little too close. You let out a sigh. “State your miseries. Soobin, you start.”

He’s been quietly fiddling with his thumbs since the beginning, and the sudden flush of attention isn’t helping his nervousness. “I...I have this Gojo figurine that I’ve been eyeing since last month, and—” Soobin cuts himself off. You raise a brow. He looks away. “N-nevermind. You can have the money.”

That was three more seconds of eye contact than usual. You should give him a pat on the head for that. “I’m in debt,” Beomgyu quickly presents his case. “I borrowed money from Jay and I need to pay him back.”

Jay goes next. “I’m a couple hundred thousand won short because Beomgyu borrowed money from me.”

“Those don’t sound very misfortunate, I’m afraid.” Jay says he totally, absolutely agrees with you and Beomgyu clicks his tongue before grumbling in the corner of the couch. Your eyes land on Jake, who hesitantly drawls out that he wants to buy a new beanie. Sunghoon spends too much time thinking so you eliminate him for being slow. “Heeseung, would you like to say something?”

“I just think we should all—”

“My turn,” you cut him off before he tries to settle for equality again. “My dorm caught on fire. I’m half-homeless right now. If there aren’t any objections about me being the most in need out of all of us, we can agree that I’ll be the one keeping the money.” They don’t dare make a noise. You grin. “It’s a pleasure doing business with all of you. Please feel free to walk around in your underwear as much as you’d like. Thank you.”

When you saunter out of the area, you hear Beomgyu rallying them to protest because this felt like an unfair arrangement, but by the end of the week, the jar is already a fourth filled with sweet, sweet cash and you have successfully established the steady flow of your passive income. Was that your intention in the first place? Perhaps, but they have to compensate you somehow for everything your eyes have been forced to witness.

But there is yet another pressing problem in your midst. This one, you’re not entirely sure you have a solution for.

“Hey,” you greet Jake after he opens his bedroom door for you. He invites you in and you realize he’s building an addition to his very extensive LEGO collection, so you’re careful not to aim your ass on any of the bricks scattered on his bed.

“What’s up?” he asks with a curious smile. 

“How did you get your friends to agree with me living here?” Jake cocks his head, eyebrows furrowed. “I mean, it’s kinda obvious that they’re not exactly comfortable with me being around.” 

“Are…you sure you’re not just misunderstanding?”

“Jake,” you exhale. “One of them picks a fight with me whenever he gets the chance, another one doesn’t even want to fucking talk to me. The other two are either desperately avoiding me or flat out think I’m about to hit them when I raise my arm for a wave. And aside from you, I can only hold a normal conversation with Jay, but those conversations aren’t exactly normal, either.” You have no idea if he hasn’t noticed this, or if he simply just wants to feign ignorance, but Jake looks like he’s in very deep thought. You sigh again. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here? I can just find another place to stay if I’m being too much.”

You must’ve hit a nerve, because he suddenly snaps into panic. “No! I mean, you really don’t have to go! Trust me, having you here is important to all of us.”

Now, that’s suspicious. You narrow your eyes at Jake, and he presses his lips together and looks away. Something is definitely up and you’re not going to give up until your dear friend voluntarily spills out his guts or until you make him spill it. 

“Important?” you prod. “What do you mean by that?”

He starts sweating even more. “I—I mean, those four are just shy, you know? They’re not very good at expressing themselves. And—and you’re getting along pretty well with Jay! They all have absolutely zero problems about having you here, I can guarantee you that.”

You continue staring at him for a little longer, throwing out a hum and sigh every now and then to get his gears grinding. When you deem him scared shitless enough, you finally start, “I see.” There’s something wrong in the tone of your voice and he knows it. Jake swallows nervously. You finally crack him. “Jake, I’m really disappointed.”

There it is. You watch as he crumbles right before your eyes. “I really expected better from you, you know?” A little more. “Of all people, I didn’t think you’d be the one to put me into this kind of situation. I mean, we’ve been friends for a good while now. No, I’m not angry! I’m just really, really disappointed.”

“Hear— hear me out!”

Almost.

“I have nothing to do with the bet, I promise! I’m just an unwitting participant, so please don’t get mad at me! I’ll tell them to quit it, I really will!”

Gotcha.

“Oh, so there’s a bet?”

It’s like you drained all the life out of him within a matter of seconds.

“H-huh?” he stammers, eyes batting in confusion. “Didn’t you say you were disappointed? Haven’t you found out about the whole bet thing?”

“I found out thanks to you.” It probably isn’t a good thing if Jake is this terrified about you finding out. You lean back, palms sinking into the push of his blankets as your friend continues to eye you nervously. “How about you tell me more about this interesting bet? Does it have something to do with me having to live with all of you?”

He’s nipping on his bottom lip. It’s becoming more evident that whatever this bet is— you surely have the right to know. “I’m sorry,” he finally spits out. “I—I can’t say— at least not at the moment! But, I promise it’s nothing bad! It’s completely harmless and not dangerous at all!”

It’s definitely something bad. “Alright.” You get up. He instinctively blocks your way and panics again when he realizes what he’s doing. You click your tongue. “I’m not going to force it out of you if you don’t want to tell me. You’re still the owner of the roof I’m living under, so I can’t exactly try to fight you, you know?”

“So, you’re not leaving?”

Jake is wearing his puppy dog eyes and you honestly start to feel bad. You sigh for the umpteenth time and raise an arm, letting your fingers pad through his soft hair when you pass in front of him, walking towards the door. “I’m not,” you assure. “I am finding out about this god damned bet eventually, though. It’s honestly worrisome how easy it is for you guys to crack under pressure.” Flashbacks consisting mostly of Soobin and Heeseung flit through your mind. You’ll try to mess with them a little less from now on.

You exit Jake’s room with a new problem on your plate and your previous one unsolved. It just keeps building up more and more.

To be honest, the biggest problem you expected to have upon discovering that you’d be living with six grown ass men would be them bringing in girls way too often for your personal comfort, but so far that hasn’t happened yet. Something tells you that you don’t need to worry about that anymore.

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[xdaddysprincessxx]

His Pretty Plaything

Uncle Ezra x F reader

Warnings: p in v, unclecest (again not blood related!), uhh this took a soft/sweet turn lol so emotions, some angst, pussy slapping, light edging, fingering, not beta’d, lightly edited, all mistakes are mine

Wc: 2629

As the summer was coming to an end, you found yourself tremendously confused with a dash of desperation. It’s been a couple of weeks since your encounter with Uncle Ezra. You think about him and that quite often. Most times your hands are down your pants in a frantic rush to recreate even an ounce of the pure unadulterated ecstasy he made you feel. But it was never enough. Your own hands failed you as you wished for him to come swooping in to take advantage of you again. You craved his cock, his filthy words, the way he claimed you as his. You got a taste and now you wanted more.

Fortunately for you, your dad was planning his end of summer party that he always throws. And you already know who will be in attendance. A little plan hatched in your brain; you were going to seduce Uncle Ezra and get him to fuck you again. You picked out an extra skimpy bikini to wear with a cute light blue sleeveless cover up dress. Excited for the party but more importantly you were excited to be filled by Uncle Ezra again.

The sun had already set as you stomped up the stairs to your room. Tears threatened to fall as you grind your teeth together in frustration and hurt. He ignored you. He never once looked your way no matter what you did. How could he defile you and then just drop you like hot garbage?!

You close the door behind you as you dive face first on your bed, hugging your pillow to your face as you let yourself cry. Feeling so ugly, so unwanted. You knew it was wrong what he did but you liked it. At first, yea you didn’t want him touching you. Didn’t want his advances but the pleasure he bought you was so indescribably incredible. And now. Now he acts as if you don’t even exist. As if you aren’t even there! Fucking bastard!

You cried yourself to sleep that night. Waking up still in your bikini and coverup from yesterday. You felt so disgusted with yourself. Peeling off what little you had on, you grabbed a towel and went to the bathroom for a much needed hot shower.

The hot water felt so good on your skin. The suds running down your body to the drain as you stood under the water, letting it completely cleanse you. Literally and figuratively. In your mind you imagined every inch touched by him being washed away, down the drain, never to come back and soil your skin again.

You put on an old baggy tshirt and some black cotton shorts before heading downstairs to grab some breakfast. As you round the corner going into the kitchen you look up and see your dad and him sitting at the table. Both men stop talking and look up at you as you enter.

“Good morning sweetie, Uncle Ezra and I were just talking. He’s gonna come stay with us for a few months. He’s gonna take the guest room next to yours while his house is under renovations.”

You huffed, “Oh great. Another man who probably leaves his dirty clothes on the bathroom floor and doesn’t clean up after himself. Joy.” You say dryly as you roll your eyes.

“Woah kiddo. That’s not very nice of you. Now I know damn well your daddy cleans up after himself as do I. No need to be a brat about this.”

“Whatever Ezra.” You say with venom in your voice as you grab a pop tart and walk back upstairs.

His eyes widen as his brows raise up in shock at your response.

“Eh don’t let her get to ya man. She’s just a little cranky in the mornings.”

A couple hours pass. . .

After seeing him in your kitchen and getting the lovely news that he’s gonna be staying with you for awhile really soured your whole day. You were laying in bed, scrolling Twitter when you came across a tweet that said ‘the best treatment for good girls’ with a video attached of a girl on her back getting face fucked by one guy and another fucking her pussy.

You bit your lip as you contemplated pressing play on the video.

‘Oh fuck it.’ You thought before hitting play.

The video itself was only nine seconds but it was more than enough to get you turned on. You exited out of Twitter and went to the internet browser hitting incognito mode and searched up your fave porn site.

Rolling on your back with your phone in one hand and the other softly squeezing a tit as you scrolled down the main page. You find a video of two women fucking each other. You decided to click on the video and start watching it.

Your can feel the tingles in your body as your pussy gets wetter. Pulling your shirt up, your tits fall out as you go to pinch your nipple.

You keep tugging and groping your tits before moving down to your cunt. You barely dip your finger in between your folds-

“What the hell is your problem girl?” Ezra demanded as he opened your door without knocking.

“Oh my god get out!” You shout as you jump up quickly removing your finger and trying to cover yourself.

It takes him a second to fully adjust to what he’s seeing before a smirk crosses his face. Reaching for the door behind him, he closes it before taking a couple steps closer to your bed. He places his hands on his hips as his smirk widens into a sinister smile.

“Ah now I get it. This why you were being a brat this morning kiddo? Huh? Poor little virgin got a taste of a real man and she needs more. Is that it baby? My pussy miss her daddy?”

“Oh fuck you Ezra! Me and my pussy do not miss you nor do we want you!”

That wiped the smile right off his face as he steps into your space, grabbing your face in his big hand, squishing your cheeks together.

“Don’t lie to me girl. You and I both know this cunt drools for me. You gone stop acting like a fucking brat or do I need to fuck it out of ya?”

As much as you want him to fuck you, the anger and betrayal from feeling unwanted at the party kept you from just saying yes. Your eyes start getting glassy as you swallow your spit ,

“Fuck. You.”

The sides of his mouth turn up into a smile as he lowers his face right in front of yours, “Oh kiddo. Acting like a brat is gonna get you punished. You don’t even have a clue what you’ve started.” He says in a low, gravelly voice. He turns his face slightly, nose touching your cheek as he slowly trails up to your temple.

An exaggerated moan comes from your phone and you both pause before looking down at the device.

You had completely forgot what you had been doing before you were interrupted.

“Now what’s this?”

Ezra is quicker than you to grab your phone and sees the video you were watching.

“This what you like kiddo? You get off watching pretty girls lick cunts?”

Shame and embarrassment heat up your face. You don’t know what to say,

“I - I It’s it-it’s not - wh- “ you stutter.

“Shh baby it’s okay.” He whispers as he leans forward, softly kissing your lips, “come here let Uncle Ezra help.”

He lets go of your face as he moves to sit behind you. Grabbing your hips, he pulls you in between his open legs, taking one of his legs and wrapping it over your leg and spreading you open.

“Hold the phone baby so we can watch together.”

You take the phone from him as he kisses the side of your neck. You can already feel his cock hard against your back.

“My hands don’t feel good Uncle Ezra. They don’t feel like yours.” You manage to get out in a whine.

“I know kiddo. I know.” His fingers interlock with yours as he pulls your hand up to his mouth. You watch as he puts two of your fingers in his mouth and sucks. Your mouth drops open as he stares deep into your eyes. Pulling your fingers from his mouth, he moves your hand towards your face as you take your freshly sucked fingers into your mouth, lips closing around the digits.

“There’s my good girl. I know you don’t wanna act like a brat. I know baby. Uncle Ezra’s gonna make his girl feel better.”

He pulls your fingers out of your mouth and places them on your covered mound. He uses his fingers to press yours into your clothed cunt and begin to rub circles right over where your clit is. You can’t help but throb from the friction it’s giving you.

“Watch the pretty girls baby. Watch them lick on each others pretty pussies.”

A soft moan is pulled from your throat as you follow his orders.

Ezra gets to work pulling your shorts down as you watch the porn playing on your phone. Throwing the shorts to the side, he pulls you back with him as he leans against your headboard. His legs wrap back around yours, holding you wide open. His fingers quickly making their way back to your pussy. Taking his time, dragging his thick digits from your entrance up to your little bundle of nerves and back again. You can’t help but buck your hips up, trying to get a little bit more. More touch, more friction, anything he’s willing to give.

The brush of his stubble on your neck, the feeling of his hot breath on your ear, he plunges two fingers in. You throw your head back in ecstasy as you finally get what you’ve been so desperate for. Ezra takes your ear lobe in between his teeth as he nibbles on it. Soft, sweet moans spilling from you as he massages your wet walls.

“Use those pretty fingers o’ yours baby. Rub on that sweet clit, make my pussy cum.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Your free hand quickly gets to work rubbing circles furiously on your bundle of nerves as he begins to finger fuck you harder.

You find yourself quickly on the edge, ready to spill over any second.

“U-un- uncle Ez- ‘mgonna cum”

Ezra pulls his fingers out as his other hand grabs your hand, holding it against your chest.

Using his free hand he slaps your pussy in rapid succession.

“No!!! What are you doing!?” You shout as you come back down from your almost high.

“Nuh uh baby you wanna act like a little brat I’m gonna treat you like a brat and brats don’t get to cum.”

You could feel your face heat up with anger and shame. You acted like that because of him. He lead you to this, to act like this.

“You’re my pretty little plaything baby. Mine. I control when this pussy cums. You wanna act like a bitch, I’m gonna treat you like one. You got that?”

Tears threaten to spill over as you bite your lip. Frustrated from not being able to cum, mad and upset from feeling rejected by him. You want to scream so bad.

“I hate you.” You manage to whisper. Scared to speak, knowing your voice would be shaky.

“You. . Ignored me. I- I tried so hard to get you to notice me. At the party,” you gulp in a deep breath, “You ruined me and threw me away.”

Ezra’s face falls. Eyes wide as he takes in your sad face as you reveal your truth. Your words are a sucker punch to his gut.

“Oh kiddo. No. No baby I noticed you. I always do. You made it so hard for me, all I wanted to do was take you, right there in front of everyone.”

With that, Ezra softy leaves a sweet kiss to your forehead before slowly trailing down to your nose.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel like that.”

His lips press a kiss to the top of your nose.

His lips just barely touching yours as you both look into each others eyes. It feels as though he is looking directly into your soul.

“You’re mine baby. Until I no longer walk this earth and even then, there will be no others ya hear me? Mine. And I’m yours honey. All yours. But we gotta keep this a secret. I know your smart kiddo, if someone found out about us your daddy would kill me. You don’t want that do you?”

You shake your head no ever so slightly. Tears now full on streaming down your face.

Ezra presses his lips on yours, seemingly taking your breath away with a soft, simple kiss.

He moves out from behind you, putting the forgotten phone down on your nightstand.

Pulling his own shorts down, his thick cock hitting his stomach. He lowers his body over yours as he takes both of your hands in one of his.

Lips finding yours again, your own tongue darting out to lick his lip, asking for permission to enter. He opened, allowing you inside. Eagerly you lick into his mouth as he tightens his lips around your tongue and sucks. A deep guttural moan pulled from the very depths of your body. Ezra takes his free hand to rub his cock through your folds before notching himself at your entrance and slowly pushing in.

The stretch making you moan more into his mouth as he continued to kiss you.

This was nothing like the first time he fucked you. Slow, deep strokes making you feel every inch of him. You grab onto the hand that’s holding your hands hostage, just trying to ground yourself. The immense pleasure making you feel as though your about to float away if you aren’t anchored to this earth. After each thrust in, Ezra grinds into you, bringing you back to your peak,

“Please don’t stop oh fuck pp- please!”

“Oh fuck I’m not baby I won’t stop. W- where do you want me kiddo? You want my cum in this tight little snatch honey? That what my little girl wants? Huh?” He starts thrusting into you faster.

Your eyes roll back as you moan like a bitch in heat.

“Yes! Yes Uncle Ezra oh fuck, please cum in me! Please!”

“There’s my good girl nngh oh oh fuck oh fuck”

Hearing his words and moans send you over the edge. Your cunt tightens around him as you cum making his thrusts stutter as he gets closer to his own finish.

The both of you stare deeply into each others eyes. Noses touching, chests heaving as you both come down from your high.

Ezra rolls off, laying down next you.

Holding his arm out to let you curl into his side.

He holds you close to him as he places a kiss on the top of your head,

“I really am sorry baby.”

Your so wore out, all you can do is wrap your arm around him and hold onto him as tight as you can as you squeeze your eyes shut.

No more words are exchanged, just the sound of your breathing as it starts to even out.

Drifting off to sleep you can’t help but wonder how you got here. The fact that this is your dads best friend. A guy you’ve always seen as an uncle. Who’s been a total creep since you’ve hit 18. Now here you are, craving him. Needing him. This isn’t gonna end well.

A/n: I just wanna apologize I know I suck at being consistent. It is what it is. Life’s been rough and I’ve been struggling with writing. But I hope you enjoy this, I love you! I love seeing everyone’s reactions! Please reblog, comment, send me asks, talk to me about my writing lol or about anything! I love to yap lol

[bonny-kookoo]

OT7: Tongue Tied (Intro)

In which you're not supposed to be the solution for all of the problems- but maybe you're just that; the missing piece.

Tags/Warnings: SFW, Hybrid!BTS x Hybrid!Reader, Wolf!BTS, Dog!Reader, strangers to ???, fluff, some angst, insecurities & very openly emotional reader

Length: long

A/N: the next chapters will, one by one, focus more on each member getting closer to the mc.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"She will stay in a separate space we've been renovating for her at the company building." The manager says, well aware that the seven boys are very much not on board with the whole plan. "So you'll basically just have to interact with her for the camera and on certain schedules. Listen, I know you don't like the idea but it's the best way of making you guys seem.. less.. dangerous, after all that happened." He carefully phrases.

Jungkook scoffs. Namjoon clenches his jaw at that reaction, ready to scold. Taehyung sighs, tired of the constant fighting.

It was something the company had been fearing for quite some time now. And now, it's come to a point where even the public has noticed the growing tensions within the hybrid band- everyone on edge, easily irritated by each other. Originally, everyone had always thought it would be fine if they 'grew up' alongside each other, especially with Jungkook having been so young when he joined the company and group. But it didn't really matter down the line, it seems like, because by now, the air is constantly thick with frustration.

For the fans all over the world, the group full of hybrids, a somewhat traditional 'packing wolves, has been nothing but perfect and a shining representation of how far hybrids can come nowadays in terms of reaching success and wealth. But behind closed doors, it's headaches, fights, arguments and stress for everyone involved.

From trying to somehow keep track of their heats to re-scheduling things over and over again because the person interviewing or hosting at the event might be an unmated hybrid that could set off any of the guys at just a glance. They're all of a category two, technically independent and mostly human- but sometimes, staff would like to argue against that. Jungkook and Jimin can be harder to control than a horde of toddlers sometimes, while Yoongi and Namjoon are sometimes just plain scary. Taehyung literally does what he wants together with Seokjin, and Hoseok usually keeps to himself. Its all a mess, really.

Especially now that the cracks had begun to show to the public as well.

"Why a category five though?" Jin argues from the side. "You've been complaining about us for years now. And we're the most 'normal' one might say." He air quotes as he speaks.

"If they see you being kind to a category five like her-" the manager explains himself, "-they highly likely will calm down."

"Or start letting their frustrations out on her." Namjoon disagrees. "If they smell just a hint of any of us liking her in any way they'll go rabid."

"So what? It's not like she'll properly understand the situation, or talk about it to anybody." The manager shakes his head. "She will live at the company building, like I said. That's top security around her twenty-four-seven, and she will also have regular caretakers- staff will look after her for you, you don't have to interact with her at all apart from scheduled activities. It'll be fine." He tries, and everyone sighs.

Well- it's not like they've got the last word either way.

---

Jungkook is a sensitive person.

Not as in weak, but as in, his senses are very much sharp enough to notice even the slightest changes in something. And so when the first furniture is delivered, first boxes with what he assumes to be the new hybrid's personal items, there's something in the air he can't quite put a finger on.

"Oh, Jungkook-ssi!" One of the staff almost runs into him, as he stands alone in the dark and rather small space you'll be living in soon. "I almost locked you in. Is there something you need?" She asks, and he shakes his head.

Something about the faint scent of yours clinging to some of the items placed, like the blankets and pillows and stuffed animals, makes him wonder what will happen from now on. You're being used for higher gain- and in a way, he wonders if you'll know that, or if you're not able to understand the complexity of the situation like his managers had claimed. A category five doesn't mean you're mentally challenged, after all. You're just a bit more hybrid than he, or the rest of the guys are.

And somehow, it all just suddenly feels so fucked up to him.

"No, sorry, I just wanted to.. look around I guess." He offers the staff member who nods kindly, before he leaves to go home.

Somehow feeling a little heavy inside.

---

"Am I the only one who thinks this is fucked up?" Yoongi sighs as they all laze around in the living room area of the dorm they share. "We don't even know where the fuck they get that hybrid from."

"With the way they're talking about her it feels as if she must be from a carecenter or something alike." Seokjin offers from the side. "After all, they did mention that she needs help in looking after herself." He notes, and Taehyung chimes in at that.

"I mean I get the idea but.. it's still odd to 'use' her for that. And what if she doesn't even like us?" He shakes his head. "Category five's are pretty obvious in what they're thinking. It's not like they can just tell her to act the part."

Everyone falls silent at that. The wolf hybrid has a point here- if she doesn't play the part well, what will happen then?

"Well- not that I care." Hoseok announces, getting up. "And neither should you guys. We're getting paid to entertain people, nothing more." He simply mumbles to himself, leaving to go to bed. And he's probably right too- the less the guys think about what the situation means to you, the better. And done the line, the space given to you at the company building is definitely better than any shelter or carecenter you're probably currently residing at.

Jungkook however isn't convinced. He's still remembering that odd feeling he had earlier standing in between all those things that smelled like you.

And he's got a feeling that this whole 'plan' will probably not go the way they all planned it to.

---

Despite everyone's varying levels of interest in you at first, it's pretty clear that today, the date you'll be officially moving in, the entire pack is equally as eager to get a glimpse of you.

"Remind me why you're all in my studio?" Namjoon sighs, watching everyone camp out in his small space, both Jimin and Taehyung peeking out the door.

"They're here! There right there, they just brought them in-!" Jimin whispers sharply, and suddenly even Namjoon gets up to maybe catch a glance.

"She must be young." Taehyung mumbles, watching how an elderly woman in a 'Seoul Hybrid Care Project'-jacket holds your hand as you walk next to her. Your tail is a little curled and clearly one of a canine hybrid- your ears somewhat folded downwards.

"Maybe she's just short." Namjoon argues quietly, Jungkook pushing a bit to get a glimpse too. "I mean- if she was too young to attend late shows and schedule that would be pretty dumb wouldn't it?" He wonders, and the others hum in agreement, watching as your tail lowers, your mood visibly changing as soon as it's evident you'll be staying.

They all start to feel a little bad once they have to watch you cling to the caretaker- probably your only familiar person, who attempts to make you understand that you'll stay here now. It's the first taste of what you as a category five are like- there's no covering up your emotions whatsoever, you visibly and clearly make it known that you're not happy about this situation.

The only thing that soothes the pack a little it the sight of the staff gently wiping your tear stained cheeks before leading you into your new living space, door closing behind you. Though it's odd- because somehow, the entire pack feels closer than they've been in a few years by now, everyone equally both interested and mildly worried for you.

"Okay I can't be the only one who feels this though." Taehyung suddenly perks up, the ball of squeezed together wolf hybrids breaking up as they all get back into the studio, door closing. "Right?"

"She's a category five Taehyung!" Namjoon scolds.

At that, everyone falls silent for a moment.

Because while they can't deny what Taehyung mentioned was true-

Namjoon also had a point.

---

You are, in fact, not actually that young, merely months behind Jungkook.

And Seokjin's very sharp sense of observation tells him that you're not at all unaware of your surroundings whatsoever. It seems like you want to talk often but then remember something that makes you shut up before you can even open your mouth. You're however otherwise clearly aware of what's going on, interested and curious about things you don't know. It must be frustrating to not be able to voice out your thoughts, he thinks to himself, already wondering if there could be a different way of communicating with you.

Turns out you are indeed a domestic dog hybrid, chosen for your rather reserved but friendly nature. You've been born to a mother than wanted to stay anonymous, having given you up as a newborn pup at a shelter, presumably because you're the result of infidelity.

Taehyung is, to no one's surprise, the first one to try and interact with you in the practice room. You seem a bit hesitant at first but it's very clear that you're easily warming up to him, your tail wagging every time Jimin says something that makes Taehyung laugh. The two wolves are sitting close to you, and you seem alright with that, albeit a little shy.

Which is to be expected, considering its been barely a week since you moved into the company building, and you've also never really met them.

"What're you looking for, hm?" Taehyung wonders as he watches you search around for something. You look at him at that, unsure, like you're fighting internally with yourself.

"Maybe she's too shy to say it out loud?" Jungkook wonders, sitting down close to you as well now. "You wanna whisper it maybe?" He tries, leaning in and pointing to his hybrid ear-

And to everyone's surprise you do actually sit up on your knees, cupping your hands over his ears before you whisper something.

And of course, everyone is eager to know what it was, since it makes the youngest look so caught off guard, cheeks red as he gets up to fetch a bottle of water from a table nearby.

They distract themselves for the time being by starting to actually practice, occasionally watching your reaction to their choreography. Being watched by you is actually not that weird at all- if anything, it makes them all work a bit harder as if to impress you, underline their deaths as the perfect idols they are.

Though, at the end of the day, they're also just a pack of young wolves, and it's clear.

Jungkook let's himself fall onto his back close to you, huffing in exhaustion making everyone laugh. The air feels oddly light today, as if the stress isn't actually that bad this time around. And it's especially evident in the way everyone laughs when you reach out to pet Jungkooks head as if to tell him that he worked hard, making the idol shy again.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all.

---

It's your first public appearance.

Described to the public as a 'charity case', you've been somewhat officially shown in behind the scenes footage every now and then, many fans having already found some info on you from the internet. The reactions are mixed, but mostly positive- many claiming that the band and company are showing how kind the world can be by taking you in. It's probably because the company itself had made it clear that you do not actually live with the boys, but in a separate place with personal caretakers, eliminating the possibility of causing a dating rumor for now, though that might happen naturally at some point.

However, all is better than having to defend the guys fighting amongst each other like dogs over food.

The level of comfort around you varies amongst the members, which is to be expected- but it's already clear that you're very good at wrapping people around your little finger. Seokjin is holding your hand as they all walk through the airport together, and you never let go of it once, staying close to the oldest. He's become somewhat of a guardian figure for you- his calm and carefree attitude drawing you in.

He helps you buckle your seatbelt on the plane, and helps you out of your jacket like it's second nature, though he does roll his eyes at Hoseok commenting how he looks like a father. "Well at least I'm helping her, you all just ignore her or play around!" He scolds, tension rising when Taehyung starts to argue from the corner.

"Hey, no one asked you to play the part!" He barks. "We got staff for that.." he scoffs to himself, while Namjoon shakes his head.

"Guys please.." he begs quietly, though the barking doesn't die down.

"So we're just supposed to act like we care but toss her aside? How cruel is that?" Jin argues back, making Jungkook whine from close by.

"Hyung, don't shout like that-" He worries, and Seokjin is ready to really shout now, when Yoongi gets up and walks over to unbuckle your seatbelt. Only now does everyone take a moment to notice you quietly crying to yourself.

"Come on, I'll get you some tissues.." the wolf mumbles quietly to you, effectively removing you from the crossfire to have you sit next to himself instead.

It's quiet at that, except for the soft sound of you blowing your nose and whimpering a bit as Yoongi offers his silent support to you. Jin sighs as he sits back down, sound signaling the start of the flight.

It stays quiet like this until the seatbelts are allowed to be removed, an apologetic looking Jungkook walking up next to where Yoongi sits next to you. You're asleep already, having taken the rapper up on the silent offer to sleep on his lap, a pillow on his thighs offering comfort for your head. "M' sorry." The youngest mumbles quietly, running a hand over your head.

"We've got to stop, at least around her." Namjoon says, calmly. "Our pack issues are one thing, but unloading all that on her is just unfair."

"I didn't mean to shout like that.." seokjin sighs from his seat.

"And I didn't mean to get so angry either.." Taehyung apologizes.

"What's even wrong with us in the first place?" Hoseok asks, shaking his head to himself. "Its like we're just fighting these days, nothing else."

"Cause we do." Jungkook says, still petting your head. It's clear that the youngest is pretty attached to you already. "We're just complaining and arguing.." he mumbles softly, watching you sleep.

"Why.?" Jin asks himself mostly.

"Doesn't matter." Yoongi quietly offers. "But we gotta figure this shit out without getting her caught in the middle like that." He reminds everyone. "She can't talk and tell us to stop-"

"She can, though." Jungkook perks up, ears standing tall.

"What?" Namjoon is interested now. Category five hybrids typically don't talk.

"The water bottle on Tuesday. She told me what she wanted when I asked her to, you know, tell me quietly." Jungkook explains. "I think she's just- embarrassed, maybe?"

"Of what?" Hoseok wonders. "Talking in that category is impressive."

"Yeah but she- I guess she's got some trouble pronouncing words. She didn't say 'water' for example, but something like 'wadu'." He tells his packmates.

"Thats cute though." Taehyung laughs from his seat, the others chuckling as well. "Maybe at the center she got made fun of." He tries to justify.

"Could be." Namjoon nods. "But with some practice she could surely work on that issue. It would help tremendously if she at least communicates in single words." He says, and everyone agrees.

"You know.." yoongi smiles to himself, looking down on you still sleeping. "...I think she's doing something entirely different than just polishing our image already."

"Huh?" Hoseok asks.

"Dont you notice?" The rapper asks the pack. "Everytime it's about her, we agree. No fighting. We suddenly problem-solve and actually talk." He explains.

"...I-" Namjoon stares at you at that revelation, realizing it as well. "You're right."

Maybe you're not just a publicity stunt after all-

But an actual solution for the root of the problem.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

Title: cruel summer | chapter 3

Pairing: Joel Miller/Female Reader

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Chapters: 6/6

Read on AO3 | Join the tag list

Summary:

Joel takes a contracting job renovating a master bedroom and bathroom while the homeowners are away for the summer on a cruise.

He wasn’t expecting their twenty-three year old daughter and the thoughts he’d have about her.

Author’s Note: thank you so much for all the love on this little fic! Please consider leaving a comment because they make my whole day 🖤

Additional warnings/tags: age difference (15 years), explicit sexual content, dirty talk (like a LOT), pet names, vaginal fingering, begging, mentions of overstimulation, mentions of oral (f receiving), p in v, fluff, mild angst. Let me know if I’m missing anything!

The next couple weeks feel like a dream that you never want to wake up from. Joel comes over every morning and gives you a sweet kiss before heading upstairs to start on his work while you study, actually being able to focus now that the air is cleared with him. He comes down at lunch and sits beside you with a hand on your thigh while you chat and eat, his eyes all soft as he watches you gesture wildly about the topic at hand.

He’s come back over a couple times after working hours. If Tommy or his neighbor’s teenage daughter are able to watch Sarah for a couple hours, he’ll stop by your house to spend time with you. Most of his visits just end with making out on the couch like a couple of teenagers because no matter how much you beg, he still won’t fuck you.

You can’t tell if it’s a residual feeling of guilt or something else, but it’s driving you insane. He’ll enthusiastically do just about anything else, including a memorable evening where he laid you out on the couch and leisurely ate your pussy until you had to literally shove him away from how overstimulated you were getting. And while that was amazing, you want more from the older man.

Two weeks after your conversation and subsequent activities, Joel comes downstairs on a Friday with a smile on his face.

“Hey, baby,” he says, leaning down to kiss you. His tongue traces your bottom lip, slipping into your mouth to slide with yours. “How’s studyin’?” He asks as he pulls away, huffing a laugh as you chase his lips with a pout.

“Fine. Boring. How’s the manly manual labor?”

“Comin’ along nicely. Listen, I wanna ask you somethin’,” he says. “Sarah wants to go to the aquarium tomorrow to see the mermaids. She asked if you could come, too.”

You blink in surprise. “Sarah asked for me?”

“Yeah, she won’t shut up about you,” he replies. “You don’t gotta come if you’ve already got—“

“I do! I mean, I do…want to go. To the aquarium with you and Sarah,” you interrupt.

“Good, that’s…good,” Joel says. You’re just smiling at each other like a couple idiots. He clears his throat and glances away for a second. “We can pick you up tomorrow morning. How’s nine?”

“Nine sounds great.”

He nods, knocking his knuckles against the table top in the way he does when he needs to leave but doesn’t want to. He leans down for another kiss, this one chaste and quick as he bids you goodbye.

“See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

_______

Joel parks the truck in front of your house, sending you a quick text to let you know he’s here. Sarah is bouncing in her seat, her little body unable to contain her excitement.

He watches you come out the front door in a fucking sundress of all things and he has to bite back a groan of appreciation. You’re usually in shorts or leggings at your house, which are tempting enough, but your little blue sundress with strawberries printed on it has just jumped to the top of his list of “best things he’s ever seen in his life”.

Joel gets out of the driver’s seat and circles the truck to open the door for you, helping you up into the lifted cab. His hand lingers on your upper back, fingers dragging across your warm, smooth skin. He smiles with smug satisfaction as he watches your arms erupt with goosebumps from his touch.

Sarah calls your name excitedly. “We’re gonna see mermaids!”

You twist in your seat to respond. “I know! Just like Ariel, huh?”

Sarah nods excitedly and proceeds to list off the rest of the animals she’s excited to see, including the stingrays and otters and sharks. You nod along with her list and tell her about how much you love otters, and did she know that otters hold hands when they’re sleeping so that they don’t float away from each other?

Joel can’t stop smiling. He can’t remember the last time he smiled for so long his cheeks ached. Your eyes flit to him briefly and you smile back, bright and sweet.

He parks the truck amongst the hundreds of other visitors in the parking lot and Sarah frees herself from the confines of her car seat. You hop down and join her on the pavement, his daughter’s arms wrapping around your waist and holding tightly until Joel joins the two of you.

“Let’s go see some mermaids,” he says.

________

Sarah’s sitting beside you, her little hand holding tightly to yours while she breathlessly watches the mermaid show. It’s two young women in gorgeous green and red tail suits, diving and flipping while an emcee narrates the show. They take the occasional break with a breathing apparatus, but otherwise they’re holding their breath while smiling and waving at the kids sitting with their noses pressed to the tank glass.

When the show ends, Joel asks Sarah whether she wants to meet the mermaids, earning him a shriek that you interpret to be a yes. He holds her hand as you get in line for the meet and greet, and gives her his undivided attention while she recounts every minute of the exact show he just watched beside her.

Joel insists that you get in the picture with them. A teen with a Polaroid camera tells you to smile.

You don’t have to be told twice.

Sarah clutches that Polaroid protectively to her chest and proclaims, “This is the best day ever!”

Your heart feels like it’s going to burst.

________

Joel takes his girls out for dinner after a long day at the aquarium. Sarah sits beside him in the booth at a local bar and grill, clutching a stuffed otter you insisted on buying for her despite his objections that he didn’t want you spending money.

“When’s that exam again?” He asks, snagging one of the nachos from the plate in the center.

“Ugh, end of next week,” you groan. “At this point I’m just ready for it to be over. If I never look at another physics practice test, I’ll die a happy woman.”

“What happens next?”

“Well, I go back to school for senior year. If I bomb the exam, I can take it again before April so that I have my scores available to apply to med school in May,” you say, ticking the steps off on your fingers. “Since I graduate before the end of the application cycle, I’ll have a gap to fill. I was thinking of making it a research year.”

Sometimes, especially in moments like this, Joel finds himself in awe of you, of the way you have your life planned out and your goals ready for conquering. When he was your age, he was still working odd jobs until one finally stuck that he could actually make a living from.

It’s also moments like this that he wonders if he’ll fit into your plans. If you’ll even want him to, or if you’ll go after your next goal and leave him behind, just a fun time from a cruel summer. The thought makes him swallow around the lump forming in his throat.

________

“So, did you want me to drop you off or…,” Joel asks when you’re back in the truck, his eyes fixed resolutely on the road.

“Or…?” You reply, voice dragging the word out.

“You could come over,” he suggests. You bite your lip.

“Why Mr. Miller, are you asking me to spend the night?”

His cheeks turn a delicious shade of pink beneath his beard. “Yeah, I am, baby doll.”

Your breath catches at the endearment. “I’d love to come over.”

His hand crosses the center console, gripping your thigh possessively for the rest of the quiet drive back to his house.

_______

Joel pulls up to a cute two story house at the end of a quiet cul de sac about fifteen minutes from your parent’s home. Sarah fell asleep not long after leaving the restaurant, so he carefully gathers her in his arms and hands you the house keys to unlock the front door for him.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he tells you. “I’m just gonna get little miss here in bed.”

“Okay,” you whisper back, watching him disappear upstairs.

You wander through the first floor, into the kitchen with its pretty bay window with a view of a small backyard. You inspect the fridge and the pictures and drawings stuck to it with magnets. There’s a photo of a younger looking Joel with an arm slung around the shoulders of a man you assume is Tommy, based on the resemblance. Another photo with a scared looking Joel holding a blanketed bundle that must be a newborn Sarah.

You reach out to trace a finger over the Joel frozen in time, a version of himself that didn’t know he’d grow out of that fear and be an amazing father.

You nearly jump when hands slip around your hips, fingers bunching the fabric of your dress in their grip. Joel’s beard tickles your neck as he kisses your pulse point and down to your shoulder.

“You have any idea how insane you’ve been drivin’ me all goddamn day?” He asks, voice a rough whisper against your skin. “This dress should be illegal.”

“It’s a perfectly respectable dress!” You argue. His laugh is dangerous, the rumble of it making your thighs clench in want.

“The things I wanna do to you aren’t perfectly respectable, honey.” His hands pull your hips back against his, grinding your ass against the bulge in his jeans.

You reach a hand back to bring his face to yours over your shoulder, kissing him with a desperation that’s been brewing and bubbling for weeks now. One of his strong hands grips a breast tightly, making you moan louder than you meant to.

“Be quiet, baby,” he warns. That hand slides down until he’s reaching the hem of your dress, pulling it up and holding it in front of your mouth. “Bite it. You keep that out of my way, okay?”

You nod, fabric clenched between your teeth as his hand trails down your stomach, fingers finding the damp patch on your panties and pressing it against you.

“Fuck , sweetheart. Been walkin’ around with panties this wet? Pussy so desperate it can’t help but weep, huh?”

Those fingers slip past the elastic and the first touch to your sensitive clit has you trying to squirm out of his tight hold.

“Uh, uh,” Joel admonishes. He cups your entire pussy roughly. “You stay still or I stop. Still and quiet so I can take care of you, alright?”

You sob around the fabric clenched between your teeth and he takes that as agreement.

His fingers slide through your wetness and he groans into your ear, nipping at the lobe as he circles your clit, the delicious roughness of his callouses making you whine.

Joel only dips the tip of one finger into your hole, withdrawing quickly and leaving you clenching on nothing. When you whine again, he takes pity on you, finally plunging one deep inside before dragging it out slowly, curling it against you.

“You’re gonna be the goddamn death of me,” he growls as he adds a second finger, the stretch of it making you moan. “But Christ almighty, what a fuckin’ way to go, huh?”

With his fingers stretching your cunt and his thumb pressing to your clit and his dirty words in your ear, it's no surprise that you’re already standing on the precipice of release.

“Come on, baby, don’t hold back on me, I can feel you gripping my fingers so fuckin’ good.” His hand works faster and you cry out, the fabric of your dress falling from your mouth. It’s swiftly replaced by his hand. “That’s it, good girl.”

Joel pulls his hand from your underwear and you slump against him, boneless and sated. He’s turning you around in his arms, gripping the backs of your thighs and lifting you up, urging your legs around his waist. He takes a few steps and sets you on the counter.

“Baby, I gotta fuck you,” Joel says, his voice tinged with desperation. “Can I fuck you, sweetheart?”

________

Joel holds his breath as he waits for you to respond, watching your blissed out expression. You smile at him, reaching forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into a deep, filthy kiss. Your teeth dig into his bottom lip, pulling it gently with you as you lean back.

“Please fuck me, Joel,” you whisper, spreading your legs. “Been dyin’ to have your cock in me.”

Joel reaches beneath your dress to tear your panties down your legs, letting them drop to the floor. He reaches into his back pocket and hands you the condom he’d stashed. “Open this,” he commands as he undoes the fly of his pants, shoving them down his thighs in a hurry.

You tear open the foil packet with shaky hands, handing the latex over to him to roll down his length. He slides his cock through your wetness, reveling in how your head drops back with a groan of his name.

Joel begins to ease inside, gritting his teeth as he sinks into your warmth. He’d imagined this countless times and yet nothing compares to the real thing. How your body opens up so sweetly, like it was made just for him. How your mouth drops open as you watch him break you apart.

He forces himself to go slowly, to give you time to adjust. You’ve got one hand propping you up on the counter and the other gripping his shoulder so tight he thinks he might bruise.

“I gotta move, sugar, you feel too damn good,” he says through his teeth. “Tell me I can move, baby, please.”

“Yes, yes, move,” you reply.

Joel withdraws slowly before slamming forward, punching a gasp from your lungs. He does it again and again and again, hardly wanting to be disconnected from you for even a moment. He watches your face, committing the flush of your cheeks and the shimmer of unshed tears in your eyes to memory.

“ Joel,” you sob, your hand digging into his hair and pulling him close. You’re not kissing him, too fucked out for that much coordination, but your lips linger against his as the two of you share the same breath.

“That feel good, darlin’?” Joel asks. You nod your head vigorously. “Come on, baby, tell me how good my fuckin’ cock feels.”

“F-feels s-so g-good,” you stutter. “Want more.”

“More? Tell me how to give you more, I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want.”

“Touch me, baby, please.”

Joel maintains his relentless pace as he reaches a hand down to draw sloppy circles over your clit. He watches as you bite your lip, a single tear slipping down your cheek in an effort to stay quiet. He leans forward to kiss it away.

It’s not long before you’re tightening around him, your eyebrows pinched as your orgasm looms. His own hips stutter in their rhythm.

“Come on, sweetheart, need to feel you cum all over my cock. Can you do that for me?”

You wrap both arms around his shoulders, keeping yourself pressed tightly to him as you sink your teeth into his shoulder to suppress your shout as you pulse around him. With a growl, Joel follows your lead to ecstasy, spilling inside of you.

His hips slow to a stop, but he keeps himself pressed inside of you, not ready to break the connection. He pulls back only enough to press a slow, languid kiss to your lips.

“That was gorgeous, darlin’,” he says, and he fights a laugh as you blush and squirm beneath him, as if you hadn’t just been begging for and cumming on his cock not five minutes earlier. He slips from your warmth with a groan and you give a little whimper.

He disposes of the used condom, pulling his pants back up but not bothering to button them. He returns to stand between your legs and you drape your arms around his shoulders, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Joel?”

“Yes, baby?”

“What is it with you and kitchens?” You ask. Your face splits with a cheeky grin.

Joel laughs so hard his stomach hurts, your own giggles echoing him. He drags you off the counter, setting you on your feet.

“Come on, let’s get to bed.”

Tags: @huffle-punk @telepathay @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @caatheeriinee07 @leeeesahhh @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3

[mod-doodles]

Two scenes that I’ve seen people dismiss outside of the season two sydcarmy holy trinity: the wall breakdown, the panic attack and the table (honourable mention - I’m saying goodnight).

1. Carmy licking his lips when Sydney walks out in the new chefs whites that HE got her.

After Carmy gifts Sydney this unexpected gift that we’ve all agreed costs upward of $1200, and what a grand gesture this is as we were made aware of the fact that Carmy and Sydney have deferred salaries during the renovation. Carmy is interrupted by Tina to sign off on something so we don’t get to have the moment where Sydney reacts to this gift; maybe she would have hugged him but we’ll never know. What we get two scenes later while they’re getting ready to open the restaurant doors: Sydney is summoned as she is now an unofficial member of the family. Camera pans to Carmy, Sydney walks into the room , Nat asks ‘ready’ and as Carmy is saying ‘it’s your ship now captain’ he looks at her in the Chefs Whites and licks his lips. (My little Sydcarmy heart screams)

All I’m saying is they could have shot that scene a million other ways if it wasn’t purposely done that way. Why did we have to get Carmy watching as Sydney enters the room in that specific way. Compounded with the convo they previously had come on!

2. Carmy sneak glance at Sydney post panic attack.

The panic attack occurs right after a lust filled night with his ‘girlfriend’. Thinking of the blue lust fest is the trigger that brings on the trauma that was ‘fishes’ and everyone is telling him that the relationship is a good thing. And as Claire’s song starts being audible we see Sydney walk into and back into this man’s life while hearing ‘these words you will be mine’, Sydney is affirming and calming him in this moment. So how many ever scenes later when he sees her next and he does that quick double glance what am I to think? Carmy’s double takes are literally one of the shows supporting cast and who does he do this with to confirm they aren’t a figment of his imagination?

I get that out of context these scenes may be easily dismissed that’s a given but in context of the preceding scenes that are directly connected its a neon lit sign saying ‘this is something’. Blissful ignorance I can accept but denial just doesn’t sit right.

Don’t know why I’m writing this here because the places I’ve seen this is TikTok 🙃.

[cashmere-caveman]

i love nina beinghuman so much and i wish she was in a better show w a love interest that is less of a clown bc hello. imagine u are a nurse and theres these two weirdos at ur job who everyone low key suspects are banging bc they live together and they applied to their positions together and theres a rumour that they both used to squat in the abandoned hospital wing thats down for renovations together

and one of them is like a grade a sleazy fuckboy whos v pretty and knows it but also his job is literally mopping up puke so ur pretty immune to any and all coolness he exudes bc u have seen this man scrubbing human excrement from the floors but sometimes u both go take a smoke break at the same time and he can be kind of funny when he wants so like even though hes not ur type u Get It u guess

and the other one is well. at first u think he is the one riding the coattails of his hot friend bc he is absolutely hopeless and has negative charisma somehow despite looking kind of cute and being a bumbling hopeless fool but he constantly puts his foot in his mouth and seems like kind of an ass, actually? but then u get to know him better and turns out that no the hot friend is riding His cottails bc clearly this man is employed wayyy under his skill level bc that man is absolutely sharp and intelligent and yet he is a fucking hospital porter for reasons ur not sure u want to really know, actually, but also like? that man's ass? 👀 awooga

so when the hot guy hits on u on ur next shared smokebreak on the awkward guy's behalf and sets u up for a date ur like okay. maybe i will give that man a chance maybe i was hasty in my judgements and he IS cute so like what have i got to lose here

and then u and the awkward guy get together but also the Vibes u get from him and his bestie never really stop but he says its not like that and he loves u and he knows u and he still! he still wants u after having seen u, all the parts of u that u are scared to share so this is good! this could be something really good for once in ur life u get to have this one good thing and its this man and you are happy

and then all of that somehow leads to ur sweet and clumsy boyfriend transforming into a fucking monster right in front of ur eyes and killing a man by Ripping Him To Shreds like thats a thing people do that he could do the whole time and then he infects u and ur life is over it is fucking over and except maybe its not? but yeah no these new people dont want to help u they just want to kill you and the secret third flatmate ur ex boyfriend and hot guy who apparently is a reformed mass murderer had is even deader than before and stuck in hell and its ur fault

and u try to fix it and then theres more people dead and everything sucks and ur hiding and you have to leave everything and everyone u knew behind to start a new life in wales but at least u get the roommate back and u and ur boyfriend are back together and ur pregnant! and maybe now finally u get to be a happy family for real!

but u still live w the roommates who are now also in love ? you think? she is in love in any case but ur not entirely sure abt the guy bc he has been off ever since the move and theres awful stuff on the news about this massacre and it starts to feel Not Good and he is getting erratic and also the guy ur boyfriend killed a while ago somehow got resurrected but lost his mind in the process so as a good person u decided to keep him in ur attic and treat him like ur weird uncle bc u feel responsible for this, somehow and then things start adding up and ur suspicions become more and more firm until u are sure that ur boyfriends pet ex mass murderer is in fact a pet CURRENT mass murderer and your boyfriend KNEW and he did absolutely NOTHING but at least that man is gone now. so many people are dead but at least hes gone

and then one evening it knocks on the door and hes back. hot guy is back and he is here bc he regrets everything and wants to die and u agree he Should die he is a horrible person he broke ur flamate/friends heart and made ur boyfriend complicit in one of the most horrendous crimes in recent history and also he just fucking sucks bc without him none of this would have ever happened and then he asks ur boyfriend to stab him bc he doesnt want to commit suicide by himself like the spineless creature he is and ur boyfriend agrees and u start to wonder if maybe those coworkers at the hospital years ago who spread the rumour that these two were in love were right all along and that ur boyfriend was never just ur boyfriend alone

[scrapsovereign]

Kinktober Day 18 - Body Worship

Prompt List

Word Count: 3.1k - ish (I swear I didn't intend for it to be this long)

Pairing: Fat Female Reader/OC x Ascended Astarion

Rating: Explicit

Additional tags: Astarion is kinda soft but also kind of a dick, internalized fatphobia, maybe some feeding....maybe???, slavery, masturbation, is it body worship if HE makes YOU do the praising?, vampires love fat girls those are the rules and I didn't make them up

This work is HEAVILY inspired by “A Night With The Ascendant” by PursuitsEternal, the brain rot set in when I started to daydream about what it would be like to be Astarion’s pleasure slave and it never let go

(posted with LITERAL MINUTES to go before 12am PST bahahahhaahha)

“Come along now, don’t dawdle, girl. Let’s not keep the master waiting.”

You barely register the raven-haired man’s clipped words. Your feet covered in silk slippers pad along the cool marble floors, calves aching as you try to keep up with his pace. The attire (if it could be called that) of fine gold chains and gossamer chafes and stimulates the sensitive parts of you underneath the beautiful, buttery silk robe that covers it as you move along. 

He leads you through a labyrinth of hallways that twist and turn, some in various stages of renovation and repair. While great care has been taken to preserve the craftsmanship of the halls, the decor is significantly different from one area to the next. Rich burgundy and mahogany are replaced with ivory and gold, heavy velvet window treatments to block out the sun being replaced by airy chiffon. 

Not at all how you’d expected the place to look.

The act of assessing your surroundings as you walk swiftly behind the pale, raven-haired man quickly drains your energy reserves. Your head spins as you reach a set of doors at which he turns around to face and address you. 

“You are to address the master as ‘master’ or ‘my lord’. Do not speak unless you are spoken to. If you displease him, you risk the fate of your mortal life ending in a giant bloody puddle on the floors. I advise against this, as this was the fate of your predecessor and I don’t much feel like cleaning up that sort of mess again. When your time here is done, you will exit these doors and wait for someone to collect you and bring you back to your room. Am I understood?”

“Yes,” you lie, struggling to keep yourself upright. 

He grunts in approval, turning to knock a pattern on the set of doors, the anticipation of what’s behind them making your empty stomach lurch. 

“Enter.”

You are hardly given a moment to collect yourself and take a steadying breath before you are thrust in front of him. He follows closely behind you as you make your way to a  desk before a panel of glass windows, the sheer curtains ruffling gently in the midday breeze. 

An elf with attractively mussed silver curls peers down through reading glasses at a large, musty tome- one of many crowding the surface of his desk. He scribbles furiously with his quill on a scroll you cannot see, stopping only once to refresh the implement with ink before he continues. He worries the corner of his lower lip gently with an elongated canine, hunching over to squint as he re-reviews the passage in the ancient book before him. 

“The girl you summoned, my lord.”

He gives you a cursory glance of bored indifference before he freezes, slowly trailing his crimson gaze up your curves to really, fully take you in. 

Your eyes meet with his for only a moment before you remember yourself, looking down obediently to the floor. 

Away from the face of the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

You jump at the sound of the book being slammed shut, cringe at the forceful exhale made through his nose as he rises from his desk. Adrenaline sets your heart hammering in your ears, your senses made sharp once again. He makes his way over to you and you flinch where you stand, using every last bit of your willpower to stay still as he raises his elegant, manicured hand. 

Not to strike your face, but to caress it. 

“Gods below us, what have you done to her?” he snarls at the raven-haired man. 

“She was…larger than described, so I thought to lean her out a bit before she was presented to you,” he sputters, his voice thin and reedy. 

The hands that hold your face in his tender grasp are warm- similar to the sunlight that streams in through the room’s large, open glass windows. 

“I never ordered this,” the elf snaps, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “Tell me darling, when was your last meal? What did they serve you?”

“Last night- a few bites of roast chicken and a handful of vegetables…my lord,” you add quickly, your face heating with shame at almost forgetting to address him properly. 

He scoffs, the displeasure radiating off of him in waves as he inspects you. 

His touch, however, remains gentle. 

“Hardly enough to sustain one’s self. For how long?”

You look up at the raven-haired man again, seeing the sweat that is starting to form on his brow. “Since I arrived a tenday ago, my lord. The same meal, once every day.”

The elf’s jaw twitches in response.

“I see. We should still have the dried, smoked tuna and the salted salmon in our stores,” the elf states, removing his glasses and placing them on the desk with care. “Do you remember the dish that…he would prepare for our mortal guests when they were ill? Have the kitchens prepare it and send one of the staff to bring it to us.”

“It will be done, my lord.”

“Oh, and Dufay?”

“Yes, my lord?”

“Your meals shall be limited to one goblet, once per day for a tenday. Starting now-”

“Master, I-”

“Starting. Now,” the elf growls, and you swear that you see his red eyes glow…though you might be hallucinating in your hunger. “Pick your jaw up off the floor, and begone from my sight before I change my mind.”

The raven-haired man gives a single bow from the hinge of his hips to acknowledge his orders. He disappears from sight, as quiet as a whisper of smoke. 

Your heartbeat begins to race as you realize you’re now alone…with him. 

The man that had chosen you as homage in place of coin or crops from his lands. The man that, according to Dufay, had reduced the person brought to him before you to nothing more than viscera and blood. The man who was rumored to be the only and first day-walking vampire, his powers bought and paid for with the sacrifice of 7000 tortured souls. 

“He’s lucky that I need him to run the damned place, and between us I think he knows it,” he confides in you, the warmth of his hand moving down to the column of your throat to rest on your pulse. “On to more pleasant matters. What’s your name, pet?”

You almost don’t say it, and when you do, it comes out as a trembling whisper.

He repeats your name, his velvety drawl wrapping around you in a cocoon that soothes your ragged nerves. 

“Pretty,” he comments with a cock of his head to the side, pulling his hand away. Your chest aches at the loss of his touch, the world seeming a little less bright as he distances himself from you, setting himself down in a plush chair by the fireplace. 

“Come to me.”

You move obediently towards him, your legs wobbling like a newborn fawn with every step forward. A dull headache sets in as you ponder what’s going to happen next. If any of the tales you’ve heard are true, your fate has been sealed as a lamb sent to slaughter. You make up your mind to endure the last few moments of your life peacefully- with what dignity you have left after you’d been isolated, starved, then dressed up and trotted out before him.

He giggles then, the high-pitched sound of his odd laughter piercing your chest. 

“Poor darling. I suppose you’ve heard all sorts of stories about me, haven’t you?” he inquires, reaching out to gather your hand in his. Your heart soars with his touch, filling with that addictive, intoxicating warmth. He guides you into his lap and nestles his head against your breast, sighing with contentment. “What’s the thing that’s shocked you the most?”

Oddly enough, it’s not the fact that he could be a vampire. It was an open secret that the lord that previously held these lands was one himself. 

No, there’s another fact that’s sitting at the front of your mind, something far more personal.

“That you would agree to accept me as tribute.”

A young tiefling woman appears then, silent as a ghost as she sets a side table before you. She catches you staring at her as she sets the table and winks at you, revealing a bowl of steamed rice with bits of pink salmon over the top. She pours a honey-colored liquid into it from a teapot, setting it down and disappearing before you have the thought to thank her. 

The elf reaches over and picks up an oddly-shaped spoon resembling a miniature ladle, gathering a little bit of everything into it before he raises it to his mouth.

Your eyes are drawn to his plush, soft lips, blowing on the contents of the spoon to cool them down. Heat pools low in your belly as you imagine how they would feel on yours, how sweet they might taste. 

“Eat.”

He raises the spoon to your mouth and you consume the strange, delicious contents with hesitation- aren’t you supposed to serve him? Isn’t this supposed to be the other way around?

“This dish is called ochazuke. You could say it’s an old family recipe,” He begins before cooling another spoonful and raising it to your mouth. “Good, no? It should give you some strength back.”

After a few more spoonfuls consumed in tense silence, he speaks again. 

“Why do you believe yourself to be unworthy?” 

You look down to the floor, away from him. 

“My lord, I’m sure that there were prettier-” Your speech is interrupted by the eating utensil shoved in your mouth, not leaving until you swallow its contents down. 

“Any idiot with eyes can see how lovely you are,” he intones harshly. “Try again.”

The compliment goes straight between your legs in spite of its delivery. Your mind races through the fog of lust that threatens to set in, trying to find the best way to hedge around the owlbear in the room. His broad, lean chest has enough width to accommodate you, but isn’t he feeling cramped for space? Aren’t his muscular thighs complaining from having you atop his lap?

You accept the last of the savory and sweet rice dish, your courage returning with your body’s renewed vigor. 

“It is because of my size, my lord.”

He chuckles, leaning forward to politely set the utensil aside, next to the bowl.

“And there it is. I believe you deserve to have a little fun for your honesty, no?” He purrs, ensuring you are gathered in his arms.

“Hold on tight to me, little love.”

You yelp with surprise as your lord stands, lifting you as if you weighed nothing, carrying you out of the room. 

“Where are we going?” You ask impulsively, cringing inwardly when you realize you’ve spoken out of turn. 

“A place where I can teach you a lesson,” he says with a bit of a growl. You bite down on your lower lip, feeling your pussy clench in hopes that it’s the sexy kind. “ Alright then, here we are.”

The double doors in front of you open with a wave of his hand, your lord carrying you over the threshold of one doorway, and through another. The decor of the rooms matches that of the rest of the new renovations, with the elevated staples you’d become accustomed to in your time here. Silken fabrics, plush imported carpets, painstakingly crafted furniture- and you’re guessing that by the size of the innermost room and the presence of the massive, 4-post bed that this is his personal bedroom.

As you near the bed, your legs squeeze together and your clit twitches when you spot the silken fabric tied around the posts. Is this how he’s going to teach you a lesson? By tying you up and having his way with you?

He chuckles then, a low, dark sound of amusement as if he can read your thoughts. “Maybe another day. I have a different activity in mind.”

You enter his wardrobe, a room that is easily the size of your family’s meager home in Tumbledown. He sets you down to stand in front of a large ornate mirror, coming up behind you, pressing the warmth of his body against the thin silks of your robe.

It is then that you notice what is unmistakably his erection pressed against you, poking at the small of your back. 

“We’re going to play a game,” he drawls, the heat of his breath against the nape of your neck making a shiver run through you. “You’ll look upon yourself and name what you like. If you can list at least ten things, I’ll give you a reward of your choosing.”

“Yes, my lord,” you assent, already wondering how bold you can be with your prize.

“Let’s give it a go then, hmm? Untie your robe for me.”

Your trembling fingers hastily undo the knot at the front of the silken robe, resisting the temptation to look away when his deft fingers slide it off your shoulders. 

The sharp inhale from the man behind you and the twitch of his hardness pressing into your back does not go without your notice. 

You meet your own gaze, slowly acknowledging the sinful vision of golden chains and jewels artfully draped around your figure. The deep v neckline of the gathered, gossamer silk gown you wear above the layer of body jewelry splits over each leg high on the hip, teasing a preview of what it hides below. You’d never thought in your wildest dreams you’d wear anything that resembles this. It must be custom-made, the way that it brings attention to the right places, hiding the spots you feel insecure about.

A small smile forms at the corners of your mouth- whoever picked this out knows what they’re doing. 

And If you’re being honest? You’re a little turned on by how sexy you look. 

Your lord takes a deep inhale, as if he’s caught the scent of something addictive in the air. 

“Don’t keep a man waiting,” he leans in, rumbling the words inches away from your ear. “Tell me what you see.”

You start in safer, known waters at first. “I like my eyes, the makeup that the maids put on really brings out the color.”

“And my freckles, even though I used to get teased for them when I was a kid,” you add with defiance, squaring your shoulders, standing a little straighter. 

This pleases your lord, your heart beating a little faster when a smile graces his lips. 

Encouraged by this, you continue. 

“I like…how I look in the dress that’s been chosen for me,” you say, letting the words fall from your lips without a second thought before you have a chance to doubt yourself. “I like the way it shows off my cleavage, it makes me look like I have legs for days.”

“Indeed you do,” he breathes, your ears picking up the sound of fabric rustling behind you. “Go on then, what else?”

“It shows off my arms, which I’ve always liked,” you admit, proud of the strength you’ve built over the years. “And the curve of my calves.”

“And what of the curves that your dress disguises?” He asks, his voice a low, seductive purr. “Take it off.”

The command to fully reveal yourself is the key you need to unshackle the chains of shame that have held you back. You loosen the ties that keep the dress held in place, letting the fabric fall away from you, pooling on the ground at your feet. 

You have three more things to name but many more reveal themselves, a veritable galaxy of discoveries waiting to be called out. 

“I like how shapely my rear is,” you observe, your eyes widening in shock as you feel the warm, velveteen rod that pushes up against it in mutual appreciation. 

“As do I, but I’m quite certain you’re aware of that by now,” he laughs, his amusement giving way to a lusty groan as you feel his cock glide across the curves of your backside. 

You watch the rise and fall of your chest, admiring the shape of your nipples pebbled underneath the gold chains that frame them. You ponder how appropriate it is to mention until you spot him reaching into his coat pocket, opening up a small vial you suspect is lubricant. His kohl-lined eyes squeeze shut in relief as he empties the contents, begins working his arm up and down on his length. 

All decorum has officially left, flown out the window now that he strokes himself, giving you the courage to speak your musings out loud. 

“I like the shape of my nipples,” you declare boldly, a glint in the mirror catching your eye as you speak. 

Following the glimmer, your attention is drawn to the apex of your thighs, stealing your breath away. Your labia is swollen with desire, your cunt dripping clear, slick juices of arousal down your thighs. A whimper escapes from your throat as you see your clit twitch, the enlarged nub begging to be touched- worshiped by the man pleasuring himself from the sight of you- ALL of you. 

“I like how my…” your voice cracks and goes dry- Gods, are you really about to say this out loud? 

“I like how my…pussy looks, wet like this and ready for you, my lord.”

Strong arms grasp at you and whirl you around. He captures your jaw with his thumb and forefinger, forcing your chin up to look at him, to meet his burning ruby gaze.

“I have a suggestion for your reward,” he rasps, his body trembling as he speaks. “I’d like you to watch me lick that delightful cunt of yours clean and make you cum with my mouth and my fingers, and then watch you bounce on my cock in front of the mirror.”

He licks his lips, his eyes fixated on the wetness between your legs. “And by the looks of things, I’d say that's what you want as well.”

“Yes, my lord,” you admit breathlessly, “I can’t think of anything I’d like more.”

“Good.”

His lips mash yours in a hungry, open-mouthed kiss. His tongue thrusts itself forcefully between your lips, and when you submit to him, the sinful moans he sings into your mouth are the sweetest song you’ve ever heard.

A sharp object in his mouth catches the bottom half of your lips, creating a small cut that he noisily sucks at. He wrenches himself away and you whine from the loss of him, leaning forward into the space he previously occupied.

“Ahhh…delicious,” he groans obscenely before pushing you backwards onto a wide tufted bench centered in the mirror’s view, falling to his knees before you. He grasps on to your hips and drags you to the very edge, wrenching your thighs open. 

“One more thing, pet- I want to hear you call out my name when you cum.”

You nod with gusto in response. “Which is, my lord?”

He pauses to give you a rakish, dangerous smile before he leans down to taste you, devour you.

“Astarion.”