#you call the circle of life and let it know it's been replaced with the circle of smiles

[aceyalonso]

your brother won't like this - MAX VERSTAPPEN

pairing : max verstappen x norris!reader kinktober day 13 - deepthroating

summary : max can't seem to escape the norris' after that terrible race in Austria. The only difference? Y/n was actually worth Max's time (and stamina)

warnings/notes : story is set during the Austrian grand prix, swearing, drinking, smut, oral (m!receiving), unprotected sex (always use a condom guys!) choking, slight overstimulation, praise kink, degrading kink, name-calling, squirting, creampie, dirty talk

word count : 3.4k

a/n : god i love this trope

main masterlist | kinktober masterlist

After Lando and Max's disappointing crash in Austria, Max was fuming as he stormed into the hotel bar near the pool, his 5th-place finish feeling like a bitter defeat. As he approached the bar, he collided with someone, spilling his drink.

"Watch where you're going!" Max snapped, glaring at the person. But as he looked closer, his anger faded, replaced by surprise. Standing before him was a stunning young woman who looked remarkably like Lando.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there," she apologized, her voice soft and melodic. She bent down to help clean up the spilled drink, giving Max an eyeful of her ample cleavage straining against her low-cut dress.

"Let me buy you a drink," Y/n insisted, her dark eyes meeting Max's gaze. "I should have been paying more attention. Please, allow me to make it up to you."

She gestured to the bar stool beside her. "Have a seat and let me buy you a drink. It's the least I can do."

Max hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and sat down, intrigued by this mysterious woman who seemed so familiar. As she signaled the bartender, he couldn't help but admire her figure, her curves accentuated by dress that she wore.

"I'm Y/n, by the way," she introduced herself, extending her hand. "And you are?"

"Max," he replied, shaking her soft hand. "Nice to meet you, Y/n."

As the bartender brought over their drinks, Y/n leaned in closer, her perfume tantalizing his senses. "So, Max, what brings you here tonight?" she asked with a playful smile, her fingers lightly brushing against his arm.

He sighed and took a swig of his drink, the cool liquid soothing his throat. "Just a rough day at work, you know how it is. Some asshole really got under my skin today."

Y/n nodded sympathetically, her dark eyes filled with understanding. "I'm sorry to hear that. Work can be so stressful sometimes."

"What about you?" Max asked, curious about the beautiful stranger. "What brings you to Austria?"

"Oh, I'm just passing through," Y/n replied casually, sipping her own drink. "Visiting my brother actually. He's here for some kind of race or something."

Max chuckled, shaking his head. "Figures. Seems like everyone and their brother is in town for that damn race."

As they continued to chat, Max found himself drawn to Y/n's warm personality and easygoing nature. She had a way of putting him at ease, her laughter like music to his ears.

As the night wore on, Max and Y/n continued to drink and converse, their initial tension melting away into a comfortable camaraderie. The alcohol flowed freely, and soon they were laughing and joking like old friends.

Y/n regaled Max with tales of her travels, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she described the various places she'd been. Max, in turn, shared stories from his own life, the stresses of work momentarily forgotten in the company of this captivating woman.

Their knees brushed under the table, sending a jolt of electricity through Max's body. He glanced at Y/n, noticing the way her lips curved into a coy smile as she caught his gaze. The air between them crackled with a palpable tension, a mutual attraction that was becoming harder to ignore.

Y/n leaned in closer, her hand resting lightly on Max's thigh. "You know, Max," she purred, her voice low and seductive, "I've really enjoyed talking with you tonight."

Her fingers traced lazy circles on his leg, inching higher with each pass. Max swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest as he met her smoldering gaze.

"I've enjoyed it too," he managed to say, his voice rough with desire.

Y/n's hand slid further up his thigh, her touch bold and unapologetic. "Maybe we should take this somewhere more private," she suggested, her lips hovering mere inches from his. "Somewhere we can... get to know each other better."

Max's breath caught in his throat, his body responding eagerly to her advances. He nodded, his eyes dark with lust as he imagined all the delicious things they could do together.

Without another word, Y/n stood and took Max's hand, leading him away from the crowded bar.

As they waited for the elevator, Max's hands found their way to Y/n's waist, pulling her close against his body. She let out a soft moan as his lips found the sensitive skin of her neck, his tongue tracing the delicate curve of her throat.

Y/n tilted her head back, giving Max better access to her neck as she pressed herself against him. Her hands slid up his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she lost herself in the sensation of his touch.

The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open to reveal an empty car. Max swept Y/n inside, his mouth never leaving her skin as he backed her against the wall, his body pinning hers in place.

The doors closed, and the elevator began its ascent to its destination. But Max and Y/n barely noticed, too consumed by their growing desire for one another. Max's hands roamed her curves, squeezing and caressing as Y/n arched into his touch, desperate for more.

The elevator reached their floor, the doors sliding open with a soft ding. Max and Y/n stumbled out, their lips locked in a passionate kiss as they made their way down the hallway to her room.

Max pushed Y/n against the wall as soon as they entered her hotel room, his lips trailing hot kisses along her shoulders. He tugged at the straps of her dress, letting them fall to the sides, exposing her smooth skin.

"You know, you never gave me your last name," he murmured between kisses, his teeth grazing her sensitive flesh. "It's not fair, since I gave you mine."

Y/n let out a breathy moan, arching into his touch as his hands explored her body. "Mmm, maybe I wanted to keep some mystery," she teased, her fingers tangling in his hair.

He nipped at her earlobe, his breath hot against her skin. "Well, I think it's time you revealed all your secrets to me," he growled, his hands sliding under her dress to cup her ass.

She hesitates for a moment, moaning as his lips make contact with the skin on her neck. "Norris," she breathes out. "That's my last name."

As Max's lips trailed along Y/n's neck, leaving a path of hickeys in their wake, the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. "Norris... as in Lando Norris's sister?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Y/n's eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and guilt flashing across her face. "You know my brother?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Max chuckled darkly, his hands gripping her hips possessively. "Know him? That asshole is the one who ruined my day," he growled, nipping at her sensitive skin. "But it looks like his sister might just make it all better."

Y/n let out a breathy moan, her head falling back as Max's lips and teeth worked their magic on her neck. She tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more of his touch.

Max led Y/n to the bed, sitting down on the edge and pulling her to kneel between his legs. He leaned back, his hands resting on his thighs as he looked down at her with a hungry gaze.

"I want you to make me feel better, Y/n," he said, his voice low and commanding. "I want you to show me just how sorry you are for your brother's behavior."

Y/n bit her lip, her eyes dark with desire as she looked up at him. Slowly, she reached for his belt, her fingers making quick work of the buckle. She tugged his pants and boxers down, freeing his hard, throbbing cock.

"I'm so sorry, Max," she purred, her hand wrapping around his shaft. "Let me make it up to you."

With that, she leaned forward, her tongue darting out to lick the tip of his cock. Max groaned, his head falling back as he savored the sensation of her warm, wet mouth on his most sensitive flesh.

Y/n released Max's cock from her lips, a string of saliva connecting her mouth to the tip. She placed sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along his shaft, her tongue swirling around the sensitive skin.

Max watched her through hooded eyes, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she worked her way down his length. Her hands gripped his thighs, her nails digging into his flesh as she took him deeper into her mouth.

"Fuck, Y/n," Max groaned, his hips bucking involuntarily as she deepthroated him. "Your mouth feels so fucking good."

Y/n hummed in response, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body. She bobbed her head up and down, taking him to the back of her throat with each movement.

Y/n took Max deep into her throat, her nose pressing against his pelvis as she swallowed around his cock. Saliva dripped from the corners of her mouth, coating his shaft in a glistening sheen.

Max's hands flew to her hair, gripping the silky strands as he guided her head, thrusting shallowly into her mouth. "That's it, baby," he groaned, his voice rough with pleasure. "Take it all like a good girl."

She moaned around his cock, the sound muffled by his thick flesh. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard as her tongue swirled around the sensitive head. Her hands slid up his thighs, fingers teasing the sensitive skin behind his balls.

Max looked down at Y/n, his eyes dark with lust as he watched her worship his cock. "Fuck, Norris," he growled, his grip on her hair tightening. "You look so pathetic like this, choking on my dick."

Y/n's eyes watered, tears streaming down her cheeks as she gagged on his length. But she didn't pull away, instead doubling her efforts, determined to prove herself to him.

Max's hips rocked faster, fucking her face with abandon. "I bet your brother would be ashamed to see you like this," he taunted, his voice dripping with cruel amusement. "His precious sister, nothing more than a slutty little cocksucker."

Max's eyes glinted with malicious glee as he continued to fuck Y/n's face, his grip on her hair unrelenting. "Keep this up, and maybe I'll let your brother win the damn championship," he sneered, his words laced with cruelty. "Wouldn't that be nice? To have your slutty little mouth wrapped around my cock, all for your brother's success?"

Y/n whimpered, the sound muffled by his thick shaft. Tears streamed down her face, her mascara running in dark rivulets. But she didn't resist, instead hollowing her cheeks and sucking harder, desperate to please him.

Max's hips snapped faster, his cock hitting the back of her throat with each brutal thrust. "Fuck, your mouth feels so good," he groaned, his head falling back in ecstasy. "I might just keep you as my personal little cocksucker."

His thrusts became more erratic, his balls tightening as he neared his climax. "I'm gonna cum down your throat," he warned, his voice strained with impending release. "And you're going to swallow every last drop like a good little slut."

Y/n moaned in response, the vibrations pushing Max over the edge. With a guttural groan, he exploded in her mouth, his hot seed filling her throat. Y/n swallowed greedily, her tongue lapping at his shaft to catch every last drop.

Y/n released Max's cock from her lips, a mixture of cum and saliva dripping from the corner of her mouth. She looked up at him, her eyes glazed with a heady mix of submission and desire.

He grinned down at her, his spent cock still twitching with aftershocks of pleasure. "You did well, Norris," he praised, his thumb wiping away the stray drops of cum from her lips. "Maybe your brother will have a shot at that championship after all."

Max pulled Y/n to her feet, his hands roaming her curves possessively. "If you really want your brother to win though, you'll have to do more than just suck my dick," he growled, his eyes dark with lust.

He pushed her back onto the bed, crawling over her and pinning her wrists above her head. "I want this tight little pussy," he demanded, grinding his hardening cock against her clothed core. "I want to fuck you until you're screaming my name."

Y/n looked up at Max, her eyes blazing with defiance. "I don't care about my brother's career," she declared, her voice strong and unwavering. "He's his own person, and I'm mine. My pleasure is what matters to me right now, not his success on the track."

She bucked her hips against Max's, her core aching for his touch. "Fuck me because you want me, not because my brother pissed you off and you want payback," she demanded, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Make me feel good, Max. Make me forget about everything except the feeling of your cock inside me."

Max captured Y/n's lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth to taste her. He broke the kiss, his eyes dark with desire as he ordered, "Take that dress off. I want to see every inch of your gorgeous body."

Y/n sat up, her hands trembling with anticipation as she reached for the zipper of her dress. She pulled it down slowly, revealing the creamy skin of her back inch by inch. The dress fell away, pooling at her feet and leaving her clad in nothing but a lacy black bra and matching panties.

Max's eyes roamed over Y/n's body, taking in the constellation of moles that dotted her skin. He leaned in, pressing soft kisses to each one he encountered, his lips lingering on her sensitive flesh.

She shivered at the sensation, her body responding to his touch. She arched into him, her hands tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer. "Max," she breathed, her voice heavy with desire. "Please, I need you."

Max stood up, his eyes hungrily devouring Y/n's exposed body. "Get on your hands and knees," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "I want to see all of you."

Y/n complied, positioning herself on the bed as instructed. Max stepped behind her, his hands gripping her ass and spreading her cheeks apart. He pulled her panties down, exposing her glistening pussy to his hungry gaze.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groaned, his fingers dipping between her folds to tease her entrance. "I can't wait to bury my cock in this tight little cunt."

He thrust into Y/n with a single, powerful stroke, his thick cock splitting her open. The combination of her wetness and the leftover saliva from her earlier ministrations served as a makeshift lube, allowing him to slide in deep.

Y/n let out a sharp cry, her body struggling to accommodate his impressive size. "Slow down," she pleaded, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. "You're so fucking big."

Max paused, giving Y/n a moment to adjust to his size. He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back as he whispered in her ear. "Relax, baby," he cooed, his hands rubbing soothing circles on her hips. "I'll make you feel so good, I promise."

With that, he began to move, his hips rocking against her ass in a slow, steady rhythm. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through Y/n's body, her walls clenching around his thick shaft.

Max picked up the pace, his hips slamming against Y/n's ass with bruising force. The bed creaked beneath them, the headboard banging against the wall as he fucked her with wild abandon.

"Fuck, your pussy feels so good," he grunted, his fingers digging into the meat of her hips. "So fucking tight and wet."

Y/n could only moan in response, her body rocked forward with each powerful thrust. "Yes, yes, fuck me harder," she cried out, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the sheets. "Ruin me with that big fucking cock."

Max obliged, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his release. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with their moans and grunts of pleasure. Y/n's pussy clenched around him, her orgasm building with each stroke of his cock against her G-spot.

Y/n's moans grew louder, her curses echoing off the walls as Max pounded into her. He brought his hand down on her ass, the sharp slap of skin on skin punctuating his thrusts.

"Fuck, you're so loud," he growled, his voice strained with pleasure. "I can't have you alerting the whole hotel to what a dirty little slut you are."

With that, he wrapped a hand around her neck, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp for air. Y/n's moans turned to whimpers, her body shaking with the intensity of her orgasm as Max continued to fuck her through it.

Max's grip on Y/n's neck tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh as he growled, "Shut the fuck up, you dirty little slut."

Y/n whimpered, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. She tried to nod, but the lack of oxygen made it difficult. Her vision began to blur, the edges of her consciousness fading as Max continued to pound into her.

Just as she thought she might pass out, Max released his grip, allowing her to gasp for air. "Breathe," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "I'm not done with you yet."

Y/n gasped for air, her lungs burning as she struggled to fill them with much-needed oxygen. Her moans mixed with her ragged breaths, creating a symphony of pleasure and desperation.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she chanted, her body trembling as another orgasm crashed over her. "I'm gonna... I'm gonna..."

Her words dissolved into a scream as she squirted all over Max's cock, her pussy clenching and fluttering around his thick shaft. The sensation pushed Max over the edge, his own orgasm ripping through him like a freight train.

Max fucked Y/n through his orgasm, his hips jerking erratically as he emptied himself inside her. His cum flooded her pussy, so much that it began to leak out around his still-twitching cock.

Y/n whimpered, her body overwhelmed by the sensation of being filled so completely. She could feel Max's seed dripping down her thighs, marking her as his.

Max collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He nuzzled into her neck, pressing soft kisses to her sweat-slicked skin. "Fuck, that was intense," he murmured, his voice hoarse with satisfaction.

He noticed Y/n's labored breathing, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. He pulled back, his eyes searching her face for any signs of distress.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. "Did I push you too far?"

She shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "No, I'm fine," she assured him, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek. "It was intense, but in the best possible way."

Y/n's body went limp, her thighs quivering as she collapsed onto the bed. She cursed under her breath, her words a jumbled mix of expletives and praise for the mind-blowing sex she had just experienced.

"Fuck, that was so good," she moaned, her hand reaching down to touch her sensitive, well-fucked pussy. "I can't believe how hard you made me cum."

Max laughed, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he looked down at Y/n's trembling form. "I may have gotten a bit carried away," he admitted, his fingers tracing the curve of her hip. "Your brother really pissed me off today, and I guess I took it out on you."

She shivered at his touch, a small smile playing on her lips. "Well, if this is what happens when you're mad at him, maybe he should piss you off more often," she teased, her voice still hoarse from her earlier cries of pleasure.

Max chuckled, his hand sliding up Y/n's side to cup her breast. "Careful what you wish for," he warned, his thumb brushing over her nipple. "I might just have to find more reasons to get angry with your brother."

Y/n arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips, "As long as it means I get to feel this good, I think I can live with that."

taglist

for all posts; @nepobbylver @wobblymug @xoscar03 @irishmanwhore @nitiii

kinktober masterlist; @cloud-55 @emryb @sie17136 @jaimeleannavanlloman @wosof1 @wholetmewritethat @glitterbitch1 @under-seasoned-pasta @sinners-98-world @lewishamiltonismybf

[meliciousmel13]

➛ the mess is mine.

paring: Billie Eilish x Reader

warnings: smut, fluff, aftercare, dirty names? (billie calls r whore, slut) strap-on sex (r receiving), eating out, fingering, kind of breeding kink, possessive billie

wc: 5,121

SYNOPSIS: billie wakes up at 7am for her photoshoot and you offer to go with her. you were waiting for her to finish and finally go home to cuddle. but.. was that someone flirting with you?

an: was this too much? sorryy

It was 7:31 a.m. Billie was late by a whole 30 minutes. Why? Because of you. She was supposed to be at a photoshoot by now, but every time she tried to sneak out of bed, you’d cling to her as your life depended on it.

Her first attempt to replace her body with a pillow had failed spectacularly. The moment the cool fabric touched your skin instead of her warmth, you whined and mumbled something incoherent about her staying. Each time she tried to move, you tightened your hold, murmuring, “Just five more minutes.”

It’s been 30. Billie was still here, half sitting up and half trapped beneath you, her phone buzzing relentlessly on the nightstand.

“Baby,” she sighed, rubbing slow circles on your back in a last-ditch effort to reason with you, “I really need to go.”

“Why?” you mumbled, your voice muffled against her neck.

“Because I’m late for my photo shoot, angel,” she explained, her voice soft as she kissed the side of your neck. Her hands slid under your pajama shirt, gently rubbing your hips in a way that was meant to coax, but it only made you cling tighter.

“Why are you always leaving me?” you asked, your tone carrying more hurt than you meant to let show. Your arms locked around her like a lifeline, your cheek pressed against the comforting rhythm of her heartbeat.

She froze for a moment, guilt flickering across her face before she softened. “I’m not leaving you, sweetheart,” she murmured, running her fingers through your hair. “I’m just working.”

“You’re always working,” you replied, your voice laced with sleepy frustration.

She groaned, and couldn’t talk back because you were annoyingly right. Unfortunately, she was always working. Sometimes she stays late in your home studio. Sometimes have to remind her it’s 3 am and she needs to go to bed. You have to remind her to sleep. which made sense because she had a horrible sleep schedule.

“I know,” she admitted, pressing another kiss to your temple. “But I’ve got a two-day break after today. I promise I’m all yours.”

“Really?” you asked, your voice still thick with sleep as you tilted your head to look at her.

“Yeah,” she said, turning onto her back and pulling you with her so you were sprawled across her chest. “Just let me get through today, and I’m yours, baby. Completely.”

Her hands slid to your thighs, holding them gently as she gave you a pleading look. “Please?”

You sat up slightly, perched on her lap as you eyed her skeptically. “Only if I can come with you.”

Billie blinked, caught off guard. “Sure?” she said, her voice cautious but amused.

You nodded, shifting to straddle her properly, your hands resting on her chest. “I’m serious.”

Her hands slid up your thighs, slightly gripping your upper thighs. Tilting her head, and smirking, almost like she knew what she was doing to you “You sure, baby? It’s going to be boring for you.”

“Maybe not if you keep talking like that,” you mumbled, mimicking her head tilt. She laughed, the sound warm and low, gently nudging you off her. “Alright, alright. But now we really need to go.”

She stretched, her arms reaching above her head as she let out a groan. Then she swung her legs over the side of the bed and hurried to pull on socks, nearly tripping in her rush.

You watched her with half-lidded eyes, still sprawled on the bed. She was barely awake, fumbling with her shirt and brushing her fingers through her hair in an attempt to look presentable. “You know,” you said, your voice teasing, “you’re just going to take that off when you get there.”

She paused to give you a playful glare. “And you’re not helping.”

“I’m keeping you warm,” you retorted, burrowing deeper into the blanket.

“You’re keeping me late,” she corrected, tossing a hoodie over her head before grabbing her phone.

Finally, Billie turned to you, her expression softening as she took in your sleepy pout. “Come on,” she coaxed, holding out a hand. “You said you wanted to come with me, remember?”

Grumbling, you crawled out of the warm cocoon of blankets and took her hand. Billie pulled you to your feet, her arms immediately wrapping around your waist to steady you as you swayed slightly.

“See? Now we’re both late,” she teased, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before tugging you toward the door.

“Whatever,” you replied, leaning into her side as she guided you out of the room.

A few hours later, you found yourself sitting on the edge of a plush couch in the corner of the photo studio, the quiet hum of activity around you. Billie had been whisked away the moment you two walked in, the staff bustling to get everything ready. The sound of camera shutters clicking, mixed with the low murmur of voices, created a backdrop of controlled chaos.

You couldn’t take your eyes off her from across the room. She moved so naturally, so confidently, like she belonged right there in the spotlight. Every pose felt effortless like she wasn’t even trying—just being. The stylist fussed over her outfit again, straightening seams and adjusting details, but Billie barely seemed to notice, too busy flashing the camera that playful, crooked smirk that somehow felt like it was meant just for you.

“She’s stunning,” someone from the crew muttered from nearby, and you couldn’t help but smile, proud to know her so intimately.

Even though she was surrounded by people, Billie’s eyes kept flickering over to you, catching your gaze and holding it for just a moment before she went back to her pose. Each time, there was a hint of a smile, as if reassuring you that despite the work, you were still on her mind.

As the photographer called for a break, Billie wandered over to you, her steps light but purposeful. She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before sitting beside you, her body close to yours.

“How’s my angel doing?” she asked, her voice playful, but with an undercurrent of affection that made you melt.

You shrugged, grinning. “I’m surviving. It’s kind of boring without you though.”

She laughed softly, brushing a lock of hair out of your face. “I’m almost done, promise. Then it’s just you and me. No more work today.”

You leaned into her, pressing your cheek to her shoulder as you relaxed into the moment, letting the busyness of the shoot fade into the background. Billie’s hand found yours, her thumb gently stroking your skin, grounding you in the peace of this quiet space despite the chaos of the studio.

“Thanks for sticking with me,” she murmured softly, her lips brushing the top of your head. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Looking forward to it,” you replied with a smile.

Billie was barely out of the room when the guy approached, the sound of his shoes tapping on the floor as he made his way over to you. He flashed you a charming grin that made your skin crawl, leaning in way too close.

“Hey,” he said, his tone too smooth for comfort. “You’re looking a little lonely over here. Why don’t you come hang out with me instead of waiting around?”

You shifted uncomfortably, pulling away from him a little, but he didn’t take the hint. His eyes skimmed over you, lingering in all the wrong places. “You know, you’re pretty cute when you look all… out of it. I think I’d like to get to know you better.”

Before you could even respond, a cold, sharp voice sliced through the air, making the guy freeze mid-sentence.

“Get away from her. Now.”

Billie’s voice was so cold and hard it could’ve cut glass. She stormed toward you, her jaw clenched and her eyes practically burning holes through the guy. Without a moment’s hesitation, she stepped between you, her presence so commanding that the guy instinctively took a step back.

“Billie, come on, I’m just—” The guy started to laugh, clearly not understanding the shift in the air.

Billie’s eyes narrowed, and her lips curled into a cruel smile that was anything but friendly. “I said back off,” she snapped, her voice low and full of venom. “You don’t talk to her. You don’t look at her. You don’t even breathe in her direction. Got it?”

The guy hesitated, clearly trying to size up the situation, but he wasn’t fast enough. Billie took a step forward, towering over him, her body language radiating pure menace. “She’s mine. You think you can just come up and flirt with what’s mine, huh? No. Not happening.”

He started to laugh again, trying to brush it off, but Billie didn’t care. “What’s so funny, huh?” she hissed, stepping even closer. “You think this is some joke? You think she’s some kind of toy for you to play with?”

The guy opened his mouth to say something, but Billie didn’t let him get a word out. “Shut up,” she spat, the words cutting him off like a whip. “She doesn’t want you. She’s not interested. I don’t want you near her. Do you understand?”

The guy looked taken aback, the smug expression slipping from his face as he realized Billie wasn’t backing down. He stepped back, trying to regain his composure, but Billie wasn’t finished.

She leaned in closer, her voice dangerously quiet now, but the fury in it was unmistakable. “Right?” Billie said, her eyes flashing darkly. “The mess is mine. All of her—every inch—is mine. And you’ll stay the hell away from her. Understood?”

The guy looked at Billie, his face turning a little pale as he mumbled something, his bravado completely deflated. He took one last glance at you before backing off without another word, clearly realizing he’d just made a very big mistake.

Billie stood there, watching him retreat with a satisfied, icy glare, her chest heaving slightly from the intensity of her anger. When she was sure he was gone, she turned to you, her expression softening just enough to show a hint of concern, but the possessive dominance never left her eyes.

“You okay?” she asked, her tone no longer sharp, but still filled with an unrelenting sense of control.

You nodded, not trusting your voice as you watched her, completely captivated by how fiercely she protected you.

“Good,” she murmured, her hand sliding around your waist as she pulled you into her side, her grip tight, almost like she was afraid someone else might try to get too close. “No one messes with what’s mine. Not while I’m around.”

You couldn’t help but shiver at the possessiveness in her voice, feeling a warmth spread through you as you leaned into her, your eyes meeting hers.

Billie pressed a kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering for just a moment longer than usual. “You belong to me, sweetheart. Remember that.”

Her words were like a brand on your soul, leaving no room for doubt. You nodded, a small smile forming on your lips as you whispered, “I remember, Billie. I remember.”

The car ride back home was suffocating in its silence, thick with tension. Billie’s eyes flicked to you every few moments, the corner of her lips curling into a slight, unreadable smile. You could feel the weight of her gaze on you, every passing second drawing you deeper into the pull of her presence.

As soon as the car stopped, Billie was out, slamming the door behind her. She didn’t wait for you, didn’t bother checking if you were right behind her—she knew you were.

The second you closed the car door, she was on you, her hands pulling you toward the front door of the house, fingers digging into your wrist. The moment the door clicked shut behind you, Billie’s mouth was on yours, hot and demanding. Her hands pulled at your clothes roughly, almost like she couldn’t stand to have even a second where you weren’t completely hers.

She backed you up against the nearest wall, her lips tracing along your jaw with sharp, possessive kisses. “Bet you like this, huh?” Billie murmured, her lips brushing against your ear, her breath warm and heavy. “Bet you like when I make you mine, when I remind you who you belong to.” Her voice was low, gritty with lust, and there was no mistaking the authority in it. Every word felt like a brand, a reminder that you were hers.

You gasped, your body responding to her instantly, heat pooling in your stomach. You tried to push her off, just a little, needing a second to breathe, but she wasn’t having it. “No, no, no. You don’t get to push me away.” Her fingers tightened in your hair, forcing your head back to give her more access to your neck.

“You don’t get to stop me, baby. Not when I’m finally gonna remind you just how much you belong to me.” Her teeth scraped against your skin, sharp and possessive, making you shudder under her touch.

You let out a soft moan, the ache inside you becoming unbearable. “Fuck, you’re such a slut,” Billie growled, her hand sliding down your body roughly, squeezing your waist, her thumb brushing dangerously close to the waistband of your pants. “A slut for me, huh?” She smirked, her eyes dark with the kind of intensity that made you feel like you couldn’t breathe without her permission.

You shuddered, but there was no denying it—the heat that rushed through you at the sound of her words. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “Yours.” She froze, her eyes darkening even further as she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a soft, mocking kiss.

“Say it again, baby,” she commanded, her voice dripping with possessive need. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“m’ yours,” you breathed, your chest tightening with both the weight of her words and your own growing desire. Billie’s smirk deepened, satisfied with your response, but she wasn’t done with you yet.

Her hand slid down between your legs, her fingers pressing against the outline of your pants, brushing lightly against your core. “You really think you can walk around looking this fucking cute without me wanting to fuck you stupid?” Billie growled, her other hand sliding up her hoodie, her fingers pinching at your nipples in a way that made you gasp.

“You’re nothing but a little slut for me, and I’m gonna fuck you like one.” Her words hit you like a physical blow, and your whole body flushed with the weight of her command. You could feel yourself tightening under her touch, desperate for her, for her possession, for the way she made you feel like nothing outside of her mattered.

Billie stepped back, just for a moment, her eyes scanning you with dark amusement. “You’ve been teasing me all day, and now, you’re gonna pay for it,” she whispered, her voice low and dangerous. “Come here.” She grabbed your wrist again, pulling you toward the living room, her movements sharp and quick. You couldn’t stop yourself, not when she had you so worked up, so under her thumb.

When she threw you down on the couch, her gaze didn’t soften—it only grew darker. She stood over you for a moment, surveying you like a predator, her hands resting on her hips as she smirked down at you. “You’re mine. Don’t forget it.” Before you could say anything, she was on you again, this time less gentle, her hands finding the waistband of your pants with expert speed, yanking them down roughly, exposing your skin and pretty pink underwear to her hungry gaze.

She didn’t ask for permission, and didn’t need to. Billie’s hands roamed over your body, her grip firm and possessive, and she took a deep breath as if inhaling the very essence of you.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect for me,” she muttered, her lips finding your neck once more. Her teeth sank into your skin, marking you, claiming you. “No one else gets to touch you. No one but me, you understand?” You nodded, your breath quickening as her words sank in deeper, the way she was touching you making everything else fade away.

All that mattered now was Billie. Her touch, the way she made you feel like you were hers, and hers alone. “Good,” she whispered against your skin, her hands roaming even more boldly, pushing her hoodie past your chest and making it pool around your collarbones.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” she bit her lip, pinching and rolling your nipple with her thumb and index finger, “hm? You know how fucking pretty and cute you are don’t you? That’s why you were teasin’ me. You fuckin’ know.” she breathed out, leaning down and taking your nipple to her mouth, she looked up with lazy eyes, her pink tongue swirling and sucking your nipple.

“Bill— billie,” you whimper holding the back of her head and softly gripping her hair. Your back arching to press your breast further into her eager mouth.

“Yeah? Can’t even handle something so simple, fuck,” she sighed, looking down and seeing the large, obvious wet spot in your underwear. “Got so wet and I didn’t even do anything yet.” She smiled, rubbing softly with her thumb and pushing the damp fabric to the side, exposing your glistening cunt to her hungry eyes.

“Look at you, all ready for me,” Billie purred, her fingers teasing along your slit. “So eager, so desperate to be touched.”

She pushed a finger inside you, curling it just so, and you cried out, your hips bucking against her hand. “That’s it, baby. Give me those sweet sounds. Let me hear how much you want it.”

Billie added another finger, pumping them in and out, her thumb circling your clit with just the right amount of pressure. “Fuck, you’re tight. I can’t wait to feel this cunt squeezing my dick.”

She picked up the pace, her fingers driving into you harder, faster, the wet squelch of your arousal filling the room. “You like that, hm baby? Like feeling me inside you, stretching you open?”

You could only moan in response, your body tensing as the pressure built inside you. Just as you felt yourself teetering on the brink, Billie withdrew her fingers, leaving you empty and aching.

“Not yet,” she tutted, a wicked grin on her face. “I’m not done playing with you. Need to hear you beg for it first.”

She dipped her head down, her tongue swiping over your clit, and you nearly screamed at the sudden sensation. “Please,” you gasped, fisting your hands in her hair. “Please, Billie, I need…”

“Need what?” she asked, her breath hot against your sensitive flesh. “Tell me what you need, and maybe I’ll give it to you.”

Billie’s fingers teased along your slit once more, barely dipping inside, just enough to drive you wild with need. “Tell me what you need,” she demanded, her voice low and commanding. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I need you,” you whimpered, arching your back, trying to press yourself further into her touch. “I need your fingers, your tongue, anything. Please, Billie, m’ so close.”

She chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. “So desperate. So needy for my touch.” Her fingers circled your clit, firm and relentless, pushing you closer to the edge. “Beg for it, baby. Beg for my fingers in your tight little cunt.”

“Please,” you moaned, your hips bucking against her hand. “Please, Billie, I need your fingers inside me. I need you to make me come. Please, please—I’ll do anything.”

“That’s more like it,” she purred, sliding two fingers back inside you, pumping them in and out at a maddeningly slow pace. “Such a good little slut, begging so prettily for me.”

She curled her fingers just right, hitting that spot that made your vision go white, and you cried out, your walls clenching around her digits. “Fuck, Billie! M’ gonna cum— can’t—”

She didn’t stop, her fingers driving into you harder, faster, the wet squelch of your arousal filling the room. “Come for me,” she commanded, her thumb pressing down on your clit. “Come on my fingers like the desperate little whore you are.”

And you did, your body convulsing as the orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of pleasure radiating through your core. You clenched around her fingers, your juices coating her hand as she worked you through it, drawing out every last bit of your pleasure.

“That’s it, baby,” she cooed, her fingers still moving inside you, prolonging your climax. “Milk my fingers. Show me how much you needed that.”

You could only moan in response, your body trembling with the intensity of your orgasm. Billie’s fingers continued their relentless pace, drawing out your pleasure until you thought you couldn’t take anymore.

Finally, she withdrew her fingers, bringing them to her mouth and licking them clean. “Mmm, you taste so fucking good when you come,” she purred, her eyes dark with lust. “I could eat this pretty cunt all day.”

She moved down your body, settling between your legs, and you whimpered at the feeling of her hot breath on your sensitive flesh. “One more,” she promised, her tongue darting out to lap at your clit. “wanna feel you come on my tongue.”

She set to work, her mouth and fingers alternating between teasing and pleasuring, pushing you towards another climax. Your hands fisted in the sheets, your body arching off the bed as she drove you closer and closer to the edge.

“Billie, please,” you begged, your voice hoarse from crying out her name. “I need to come. Please— make me come.”

She hummed against your skin, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you. “Come for me, baby. Let go. I’ve got you.”

And with a final flick of her tongue, you did, your back bowing off the bed as the second orgasm ripped through you. Billie moaned, lapping up your release, prolonging your pleasure until you collapsed back onto the mattress, spent and sated.

She crawled up your body, pressing soft kisses along your neck and jaw. “Such a good girl,” she praised, her fingers carding through your hair. “so proud of you angel.”

You could only nod, too exhausted to form any coherent words. Billie chuckled, pressing one last kiss to your lips before climbing off the couch.

Billie smirked as she climbed off the couch, her fingers still glistening with your juices. “Wait here,” she mumbled.

She sauntered out of the living room, leaving you panting and aching for more. Your mind raced with possibilities of what she might return with - toys, restraints, who knows what else.

Minutes later, Billie reappeared, a mischievous glint in her eye. In her hand, she held a large, strap-on.

“On your hands and knees,” she commanded, her voice low and authoritative.

You scrambled to obey, assuming the position on the couch. Your heart raced with anticipation as you felt Billie’s presence behind you.

“Such a good little whore,” she purred, running the strap-on teasingly along your slit. “So eager to be filled, aren’t you?”

You whimpered and pushed back against the toy, desperate to feel it inside you. Billie chuckled darkly.

“Patience, I’m going to fuck this tight pussy so hard you won’t be able to walk straight tomorrow.”

With that promise, she pressed forward, and positioned herself at your entrance, the thick head of the strap-on nudging insistently against your sensitive folds. With a single, powerful thrust, she sheathed herself fully inside you, your slick walls parting to accommodate her girth.

“Fuck yes,” Billie groaned, her hips grinding against yours as she hilted deep. “Love feeling this tight cunt swallowing my cock. Gonna ruin you for anyone else.”

She set a punishing pace, her thrusts hard and deep, hitting that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids. The obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, mingling with your wanton moans and Billie’s grunts of exertion.

“Take it,” she commanded, her fingers digging into the meat of your thighs hard enough to bruise. “Take my fucking cock like the desperate whore you are. Milk it with this greedy little cunt.”

Your body was a livewire of sensation, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. You could feel your orgasm building, a tidal wave of ecstasy poised to crash over you at any moment.

“Billie,” you keened, your hands scrabbling at her sweat-slicked back. “Please, I’m so close. Make me come on your cock. Fill me up, please!”

“That’s it, baby,” she growled, her hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. “Come for me. Come all over my fucking dick.”

And with a few more well-angled thrusts, you did, your cunt clamping down on the strap as wave after wave of pleasure radiated through your core.

Billie carefully pulls out, her movements slow and gentle as she helps you settle back, her hands soothingly stroking your body. She leans down, her breath soft against your skin, whispering, “You did so good for me, baby.”

You’re still a little dazed, your eyes half-lidded as you look up at her, feeling the warmth of her touch and the aftershocks of everything slowly settling in your chest. Billie’s gaze softens as she notices the way you’re still processing, her hand resting lightly on your hip, a grounding presence.

“Just breathe, okay?” she murmurs, her voice low and comforting. Her fingers trace the curve of your jaw, pushing the strands of hair from your face, and she smiles softly as she sees how you melt into her touch.

She leans in, pressing a light kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering there for a moment. “I’ve got you, always. You’re safe with me.”

You nod, finally feeling the tension in your body ease as she holds you, her warmth enveloping you. Billie’s body is close, and she doesn’t let go of you, making sure you feel cared for and cherished. You rest your head against her chest, listening to her steady heartbeat, and feel the weight of her embrace ground you as the world slowly comes back into focus.

Billie smiles softly, her fingers gently brushing over your skin, lingering on the back of your neck. She takes a moment to study you, her eyes filled with affection as she notices the exhaustion settling in your features.

“How about a bath?” she asks, her voice tender like she’s offering you a moment of calm after everything. “I can run one for you, make sure you’re all clean and relaxed.”

You hum softly, the idea of sinking into warm water feels like the perfect way to unwind. Her hand moves to your waist, guiding you gently to sit up, and she stands beside you, already reaching for the blankets to pull them back.

“I’ll take care of you,” Billie promises, her gaze never leaving yours. She leans in and presses another kiss to your forehead, a reassurance of her care. “You deserve to feel good, baby.”

She helps you to your feet, her touch light yet steady, making sure you don’t feel rushed as she leads you toward the bathroom. The soft glow of the dim lights in the room and the sound of water running sets the mood—peaceful, quiet.

You sink deeper into the warmth of the bath, your body still humming from everything that just happened. You take a deep breath, your eyes closing for a moment as you let the heat wash over you.

“That was a lot,” you admit, your voice soft, still coming down from the intensity.

Billie, standing beside the tub, looks down at you with a small smile, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. She crouches down, brushing her hand over your hair, fingers tangling through the wet strands. “I know, baby,” she says, her voice tender, as if she understands exactly what you mean. “But you did so good.”

Without saying much more, Billie undresses quickly, and before you can blink, she’s stepping into the tub behind you. The water splashes around her as she settles in, almost instantly pulling you into her arms. Her presence is solid, grounding you in a calm way after everything.

She guides you to lean back against her chest, your head resting against her shoulder as she envelops you in her warmth. Her hands start running through your hair again, gentle and soothing. “I’ve got you,” she murmurs, her voice soft and calming. “We can just relax here for a while, okay? No rush.”

You let out a breath, the weight of everything finally beginning to melt away. Billie’s arms are around you, keeping you close, and her touch is reassuring and soft. She kisses the top of your head, her lips lingering there for a moment before she whispers, “Let go, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

Billie’s hands slide down your arms, her touch still gentle as she pulls you closer, her body pressed firmly against yours in the warm water. She stays silent for a moment, her breath steady, as if thinking over everything that happened.

After a beat, her voice breaks the quiet, soft but tinged with concern. “Was I too rough with you?” she asks, her tone unexpectedly vulnerable. “Too mean?”

You look up at her, meeting her eyes as she watches you carefully, her fingers now tracing delicate patterns on your skin. Her usual confidence is there, but there’s an underlying softness, a need for reassurance that surprises you.

“I just want to make sure I didn’t push you too far,” she adds, her voice almost hesitant, as if she’s testing the waters for your response.

You let out a small sigh, the warmth of the bath soothing you further, and shake your head. “No… it wasn’t like that,” you whisper, reaching up to touch her face, your fingertips grazing her cheek. “You were just… exactly what I needed.”

Billie’s eyes soften, the tension in her shoulders easing as she absorbs your words. She pulls you closer once more, her embrace wrapping around you like a cocoon, protective and caring.

“I just want to take care of you,” she murmurs, her voice low and sincere. “I’m here, always.”

taglist: @chrissv4mp, @billiesguitar, @ilovebillieeilish2000, @d14n4ol, @raspberrymacaroon, @eilishslut if your not a part of this list but want to be comment under my tag list post, which is on my masterlist.

b.e masterlist | m.b masterlist | taglist

[punkshort]

Swept Away | Chapter 9: Sink or Swim

Pairing: sugardaddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You confront Joel and he struggles to tell you the truth and open up, leaving you with a broken heart.

Chapter Warnings: language, sugar baby/daddy dynamics, mountains of angst, jealousy, reader has long-ish hair, reader falls down into a shame spiral where she compares herself to a prostitute

WC: 5.9K

Series Masterlist

You had never felt more stupid or naive in your life.

How could you let this happen? How could you allow yourself to be put in this position, knowing deep down you would ultimately get hurt? And the worst part was, you had no one to blame but yourself. Joel was upfront from the very beginning. He was paying you to pretend to be his significant other and he repeatedly drew the line in the sand, refusing over and over again to take things further with you. But you just kept pushing and pushing and he eventually caved, your persistence finally wearing him down. And after everything, after he told you he had never been in love, after explaining he was only with Tammy for vengeance and then convenience, you still foolishly thought maybe you were different. That maybe you could change him. What the hell had gotten into you? Why couldn't you just do the job you were hired to do, collect your payment and go home?

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing the tears back as you stood over your bed, packing the rest of your belongings before the plane took off in a couple hours. Most of your things were packed, the clothes and accessories Joel and purchased for you before the trip, but you still had to gather all your own personal items. When you pulled your bag from the closet, forgotten and untouched for weeks, you immediately spotted an old, baggy shirt and your favorite pair of jeans. Without even thinking twice, you stripped off the pajamas and underwear that were purchased for you and replaced everything with your own clothes. When you pulled your shirt over your head and looked in the mirror, you took a deep breath and gave yourself a little smile.

This was the girl you knew. This was who you really were. Not some girl who pranced around in lingerie that cost more than a month's rent or a swimsuit that could cover a car payment.

You should have known this life wasn't for you. Joel had called you a hopeless romantic that day on the beach. The same day he got you the pretty pink seashells you now cradled carefully in the palms of your hands.

Maybe he was right.

"Almost ready?"

You jumped at his deep voice in your doorway and nearly dropped the seashells. With extra care, you wrapped them in an old hoodie and buried them in your bag.

"Yeah, almost," you said over your shoulder, pausing a moment when you saw the two white, unopened envelopes filled with tip money you had completely forgotten about.

Joel's arms circled your waist from behind and you quickly closed the bag.

"Feelin' sad it's over?" he asked, lips pressed gently into the crook of your neck. And you knew he meant the trip, but your heart still wrenched in your chest, anyway.

"Uh, yeah," you said, swallowing down the dejection that threatened to crawl up your throat. You carefully pried his hands off you and slipped away to pack your toiletries, leaving him standing there with a confused look on his face.

He watched you as you busied yourself with packing, taking great care to wrap your shampoo and face wash so it wouldn't leak, and he frowned.

"Somethin's up."

You shook your head and pressed your lips together, focus still fixed on your task. "No. Just... like you said. Sad it's over."

Joel ticked his jaw to the side, still not convinced. Then it dawned on him and he slowly sat down on the edge of your bed.

"We never talked last night like I said we would," he said. "'M sorry, I was thinkin' 'bout the land and all the shit I gotta do to finalize the sale... we'll talk on the plane, alright? Promise, baby."

For some reason, hearing him call you baby made your stomach turn and you instantly bristled.

"Uh, no, it's fine," you insisted, tucking your hair behind your ear when you bent over to shove your toiletries into your bag. "Nothing to talk about, it was stupid."

And now, it really did seem stupid. Admitting you would have come there without being paid just for him to lie and break your heart hours later?

But, shit... it was still true. Even after he lied, you still didn't want any of his money. He could keep it all if it meant he would open up and let you in.

"Wasn't stupid," Joel finally said softly. He was beginning to worry now. Something wasn't right and it was making his pulse race. When you breezed past him to gather the things from your nightstand, he grabbed your wrist and spun you around. Reluctantly, you met his eye and he imploringly gazed up at you.

"Talk to me."

You inhaled a shaky breath and dropped your chin to your chest. "Joel... I still have to pack-"

"I don't care," he said sternly, "I got people to do that for us. Why ain't you lookin' at me?"

Nerves shot through your limbs, fingers beginning to shake so you curled them into fists. You had to bring it up one way or another, right?

The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

"Why won't you tell me what happened with your daughter?"

Once the words left your lips, the room instantly felt colder, his grip felt tighter, and your muscles stiffened in anticipation.

"What?" he asked, his voice so low and his tone so icy that it sent a shiver down your spine. You shifted nervously from foot to foot, eyes still pinned to the floor.

"Why won't-"

"I fuckin' heard you," he snapped, dropping your wrists and standing up. "Who told you?"

You swallowed tightly and took a few steps backwards.

"Tammy."

Joel practically growled with rage as he began to pace around your room, the area that once felt so spacious and luxurious now felt so small and cold. He grumbled under his breath and dragged his hand through his hair, curls sticking up in odd directions when he turned on you with a look that could melt steel.

"The hell you talkin' to her for?"

Of all the things for him to say, you didn't expect that.

"What do you - she came at me last night! She threatened to tell Glenn about your daughter and brother and I had to pretend like I already knew!"

Tears welled up in your eyes and your hands pressed protectively against your chest.

"I was helping you, Joel. I stopped her from ruining this deal for you." And you hated the way your voice wobbled when you said, "I was doing my job."

His eyes flashed with anger when he stopped a few feet away from you with his hands propped on his hips.

"You shoulda came to get me. This didn't have anythin' to do with you," he told you. You winced and looked back down at the floor, unable to stop yourself from taking it personally.

"Why does Tammy know more about your family than I do?" you asked, your voice so small and weak it was borderline embarrassing.

"'Cause-" he cut himself off, swiping his palm over his mouth while he stared at you, wrestling with his anger and his feelings all at once.

"'Cause it ain't part of the deal?" you offered bitterly, just as surprised as him at the quick change in your tone. And because he was foolish and always quick to anger, he took the bait.

"Yeah, 'cause it ain't part of the deal," he huffed, narrowing his eyes at you.

"But it was part of her deal," you pointed out. At that, Joel rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air.

"The hell you want from me?" he asked, voice rising now. "I told you 'bout her, told you what happened-"

"And you told me she was the only reason you felt you weren't a 'good man'!" you shouted with air quotes, your heartbreak bleeding into anger. "You fucking lied to me, Joel!"

"My family ain't none of your goddamn business!" he shouted back, the look in his eye and the sting of his words making you falter for a moment. "If I wanted to tell you, I woulda told you!"

"That's the problem, isn't it? You don't want to tell me anything! It's like pulling teeth with you, Joel, I swear to god..."

You pushed past him to shove the remaining items from your end table recklessly into your bag while he stalked after you.

"You wanna know 'bout my daughter? 'Bout my brother? Will that make you happy?" he yelled, his face growing hot and his eyes flickering with anger as he towered over you. You spun around with your arms crossed, refusing to let him intimidate you. But before you could shoot back an answer, he kept going.

"You wanna know how I abandoned my kid? You want me to tell you how I turned my back on my brother, let him lose his goddamn business? Huh?"

You blinked and shook your head, stunned.

"W-what?"

"Yeah, that's right," he sneered, turning away momentarily before twisting back around to face you. "This is why I don't do shit like this. 'Cause of the look you're givin' me right now."

You were speechless. You couldn't think of a single thing to say to make the situation better, so you kept your mouth shut and held back your tears while he cursed under his breath and tried not to yank his hair out at the root. When it became apparent you had no fight left in you, he twisted his wrist to look at the time with a scowl, then haphazardly picked up your bag from the bed and tossed it on the ground next to the others.

"We're leavin' in half an hour, be ready," he muttered, then slammed your door behind him after he disappeared into the hallway.

You let the tears fall, then. Only when he was gone and couldn't see. You buried your face in your hands and fell to your knees next to your things and sobbed as silently as possible, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you so hurt.

When you found a break in the sadness after taking a deep breath and drying your cheeks, you righted your bag only to hear shards of something delicate rattling inside. You frantically dug around and found the pink seashells all but destroyed and another wave of tears washed over you, only that time you didn't try to hide it. You sobbed openly while clutching the pieces to your chest, rocking back and forth, hoping to ease the pain somehow, but nothing helped.

Nothing could put the seashells or your heart back together.

Panic seized his throat approximately four minutes after he slammed his door, storming into his bedroom and muttering angrily under his breath until the clouds cleared and he realized his mistake.

His huge, fat, monstrous fucking mistake.

The hurt he carried with him about Sarah and Tommy wasn't meant to be unloaded onto you. It was something he was responsible for and something he had to deal with. It wasn't fair to snap at you the way he did just because he felt shame. He was taken off-guard, shocked that you knew anything about them in the first place, and he lashed out. Everything between you was so new, he was too scared to tell you the truth.

But it ultimately didn't matter.

He pushed you away, like he always did. He wasn't honest, you called him out on it, and he fought back like a petulant child.

And now he was going to lose you.

He whipped out his phone and typed out a quick text to his assistant, Liam.

What should I do for a girl when I've fucked things up beyond recognition?

He waited for a response and stared listlessly out the window, fingers tapping anxiously against his leg until he heard something. He rushed to his door and pressed his ear against the wood, brows furrowing as he tried to pinpoint the sound. Then his chest ached when he heard your muffled crying from across the hall.

Are we talking Chanel bag fucked up Cartier watch fucked up?

Joel frowned at his screen before replying, remembering the relaxed outfit you were wearing when he walked into your room earlier. They were definitely not clothes he bought. He already knew, but you weren't the type of person who cared about stuff like that.

I have no idea which one of those is better or worse. I fucked up big time but I don't think designer shit's the answer.

Then something sentimental. Something that means something to her. Or the both of you, if that's possible.

Joel rolled his eyes before tapping out a thanks and sliding the phone back into his pocket. Right before he was about to step out into the hall, his phone buzzed again.

And say you're sorry. Feels like that's a given but who knows with you.

Liam had been Joel's assistant for almost a decade. He knew Joel would never fire him because he was just too damn good at his job, and he loved to wield his power whenever moments arose to do so.

A simple apology wouldn't be enough. He needed to do more. But he was so fucking terrible at this, so rusty, he could hardly even remember what it was like to be in a legitimate relationship.

Was that was this was? He never had the chance to ask. And now he could feel it slipping through his fingers, just like the sand on the beach that day he kissed you in the ocean, or the powdered paint used to decorate your faces.

Joel swung his door open, ready to barge back into your room, take you into his arms and apologize until you either accepted it or screamed at him to stop. But when he stepped across the hall, your room was empty. Your bags were gone.

He hurried into the living room to find you tugging at your luggage, hair all wild and covering most of your tear soaked face as you struggled to get your bags closer to the door.

"Darlin', you don't gotta do that, the crew'll get all this shit," he reminded you, purposely softening his voice. He rubbed at his chest as he approached, ready to apologize, but the minute he got a good look at your face, he knew it was no use. Your eyes were all puffy and filled with rage when your head snapped up to look at him.

"I don't need you or your people to help me," you hissed, angrily swiping at your hair. He held out his hands in surrender, hoping you could see how sorry he was, but you just swiveled away to grab your bag and toss it over your shoulder.

"Wait, can we talk-"

"I'll be in the lobby," you said bitterly, and before he could say anything else, you disappeared out into the hall and the door had swung shut.

Admittedly, you had envisioned using the bed on Joel's private jet for something far more fun than lying there staring at the ceiling with eyes so dry and raw, they felt like sandpaper. Yet that was exactly how you found yourself three hours into the flight, unable to find peace or rest, your argument playing on a loop in your head.

Then, of course, came the intrusive thoughts.

Were you no better than a whore? Technically, you slept with a man who was paying you for your companionship. Wasn't that the very definition of a prostitute?

Joel only carried on a relationship with Tammy when it was convenient and the moment she started to develop feelings, he cut her off. You were certainly convenient, sleeping right across the hall, practically throwing yourself at him. And although he could probably sense you wanted more from him, that you were feeling something more but too afraid to admit, at least you never got to the point where you put yourself out there. At least you still had some dignity intact.

Somewhat.

You rolled over with a frustrated groan, savoring the feeling of the expensive, buttery soft sheets against your skin, knowing in a few short hours you would be back to the worn out cotton set you had bought back in college.

The luxury items were nice, but you could live without them. There was only one thing on that plane you really wanted, but your mind won the battle over your heart: you wouldn't let him hurt you again. He told you exactly who he was, and you didn't believe him.

You wouldn't make that mistake again.

But that didn't stop your heart from splintering in your chest every time you thought about the way his lips felt against your neck, or the sweet things he whispered in your ear - my girl, all fuckin' mine, you got me, or the way he took such gentle care of you after the incident with Brooks.

He was a good man, deep down.

No, he was a fucking asshole and a liar.

With a heavy sigh, you sat up in bed and fixed your hair, bending over to look in the mirror by the closet at your appearance and swiping the pad of your finger underneath both eyes, as if it made any difference, before straightening up and opening the door.

Joel sat with his head in his hands in front of his glowing laptop. He didn't hear the door open at first, so you paused, taking a rare moment to study him when his guard was down. His shoulders looked heavy, fingers curling into his hair as if he were in pain, and his leg bounced wildly underneath the table. If you didn't know any better, he looked conflicted. Like he was wrapped in guilt and self-pity.

You tossed your hair over your shoulder and lifted your chin high. It's not about you. He's working. It's probably about some bullshit with work. Don't do this to yourself again. Don't think you're something to him when you're not.

You stared at him a minute longer, anger bubbling up inside you again, but this time your anger was directed inward. Why, after he lied to you, after he said his family ain't none of your business and if I wanted to tell you, I woulda told you and it ain't part of the deal, did you stand there wishing you could climb into his lap and bury your face against his neck? Breathe him in and let him fill you? Whisper your names into each other's mouths and scrape your nails over his scalp just to hear him groan?

You must have made a noise, or maybe he was developing a sixth sense because suddenly his hands dropped, his leg froze, and his eyes snapped up to meet yours. Your gaze darted nervously around the plane, squinting out the window through the clouds as if you could tell where you were as you flew over the entire goddamn ocean, before finding his eyes again.

"Get any sleep?" he asked. His voice was raspy from disuse and you rolled your shoulders, trying to physically rid your body of the effect those three simple words had on you.

"No," you replied before slumping down into a chair on the other side of the cabin, furthest away from him. You tucked your fist under your chin and gazed tiredly out the window. Joel's eyes could have burned holes into your head from the way he was staring at you, scanning you, trying to come up with the right combination of words that would take back everything he said, until finally he cracked.

"Please talk to me."

Your eyelids fluttered closed at the soft desperation in his tone, throat feeling like someone's fingers were squeezing around it.

"There's nothing to talk about."

Joel huffed and stood, joints cracking from sitting in the same position for too long. In three long strides, he dropped himself into the seat across from you.

"You had questions. Lemme answer 'em."

You opened your eyes and forced yourself to look at him. Up close, he looked disheveled. A little rattled, maybe. But mostly determined.

"You said it yourself. If you wanted to tell me, you would've. If she never said anything to me, would you have told me you had a daughter?"

His mouth opened and closed for a moment, considering his answer.

"No," he finally replied. You rolled your eyes and turned your head away, neck straining at an impossible angle so you could stare out the window and avoid seeing him in your peripheral vision. "But not for the reasons you think."

"Yeah? You have no idea what I'm thinking," you muttered.

"What happened was... it's a long story, but-"

"But you told Tammy," you snapped, eyes still glued to the clouds.

"I've known both of 'em for years-"

"You said you didn't care for her that way, yet she knows so much about you," you rambled, too lost in your own anger and jealousy now.

"Can you let me-"

"God, I'm so fucking stupid. This was a huge mistake-"

"Will you let me fuckin' finish?" Joel asked, voice rising and purposely cutting you off before you could finish the sentence that might shatter his heart for good.

You whipped your head around, nostrils flaring and brows sewn together into a glare. Joel just stared right back, his chest rising a little faster under his button down shirt, dark eyes looking stormier than usual. When too much time had passed, you raised your eyebrows and wiggled your head from side to side expectantly. Go on, speak. He took a deep breath and pressed his back firmly into the plush leather chair before continuing.

"I've known her and Scott for a long time. They knew 'bout Sarah years ago. And, yeah, when I was younger and fuckin' stupid, I told both of 'em too much 'bout me. But I couldn't tell you, 'cause-"

He cut himself off, swallowing the lump in his throat as you stared one another down.

"'Cause I care what you think. 'Bout me. I care what you think 'bout me. Don't care what she thinks. Just you."

Sarah. Joel. Sarah and Joel, Joel and Sarah.

Just you.

Your eyes pinched shut and your shoulders sagged, the emotional whiplash finally taking its toll.

"I can tell you, if you want," Joel offered. His hands were fidgeting in his lap as he searched for any possible sign that he was breaking through.

"If I want. But you don't want to, right?"

Your voice sounded so small, you barely recognized it.

When he didn't answer, you lifted your chin and opened your eyes. You watched his throat bob and his lips purse before giving you a defeated look and slowly shook his head. At least he didn't lie again.

You bit your lower lip and nodded. You'd had enough.

"Then don't. Doesn't make a difference now, anyway," you told him. Reaching for your bag, you pulled out some earbuds and a hoodie, muttering angrily to yourself when you found it inside out.

Joel just watched, dejected and lost, too out of his element to undo the damage he caused as you yanked the hoodie over your head and popped your earbuds in. Once you reclined your chair and closed your eyes, he got the message.

He would just have to accept it was over.

When you finally fell into a restless slumber, you dreamt. You dreamt about a pair of soulful brown eyes, strong hands and a smile that made you weak in the knees.

The worst I'll ask is for you to hold my hand and the occasional kiss.

Only it wasn't just that, was it? It was secret touches that blossomed into flirty kisses when no one was around until the tension broke and he turned your world upside down with his deep laugh, sweet touch and torn knuckles.

Then you dreamt of broken seashells, salty tears, and you were hired to look pretty and act like you're in love with me. Everythin' else is none of your goddamn business.

He tried to warn you, you gave him that. He tried to push you away, but you persisted. You were foolish and had no idea what you were getting yourself into, and now you were left with a broken heart, heading back to Los Angeles to an empty apartment.

Joel was unavailable, plain and simple. He had a fortress built around himself that was impossible to tear down, and even though he offered to let you in, give you the grand tour, it wasn't genuine. He didn't offer because he wanted you in, he offered because it was what you wanted. And maybe to assuage his own guilt.

The flight crew woke you up when dinner was ready. You groggily sat up and tried to force feed yourself some chicken, something you assumed Joel had ordered for you, but you hardly made it halfway through before giving up.

He glanced at you occasionally but he kept to himself. He focused intently on his laptop or phone while you tried to find something to distract yourself with on TV.

When the flight crew announced you'd be landing in half an hour, Joel straightened up and began to look a little panicked, like maybe he had been expecting you to cave, trapped on his private jet with him, and you never did. And now you'd be landing soon, his chances dwindling.

"I ain't good at this," he said out of the blue. You just shrugged and kept your gaze fixed on the television.

"I noticed."

His fingers rapped impatiently on the table.

"What if we started over?"

Curiosity got the best of you and you rolled your head to the side to look at him with a raised eyebrow, which he took that as an invitation to keep talking.

"We didn't meet on the right terms. This wasn't -"

He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair.

"I don't do relationships," he began again, and at that you scoffed.

"I'm very aware of that, too."

He narrowed his eyes at your dry tone. "But you do."

You frowned and turned back to gaze blankly at the TV. "Yes, Joel. Like most normal people, I have relationships."

"Alright. What if I'd be willin' to try somethin' like that? For you? Start over and do it right?" he asked hopefully.

"Then I would say twenty four hours ago, that was exactly what I wanted to hear," you said coldly. You saw him stand out of the corner of your eye and find a swivel chair closer to where you sat on the couch.

"And now?"

The deep timber of his voice had you taking a moment to breathe deep and collect yourself. You could smell his cologne, the one you never got the name of but would spend two hours one day in the near future trying to find it in a department store just so you could smell him again.

"And now..." you echoed, your brain tossing around various replies until you settled on, "I don't know."

He inched forward on the chair and glanced over his shoulder to make sure you were alone before saying, "Listen, baby. I'm sorry. I'm so unbelievably fuckin' sorry that it makes me want to pluck by goddamn eyes out. I wanna make this right. Just tell me what to do."

The pilot announced your decent and you sat up to buckle yourself in.

"I'm not going to force you into opening up for me, Joel," you said, clicking your seatbelt loudly before meeting his eye. "You can tell me everything about you. Every ugly, horrible, nasty little thing. But unless you really want to tell me, unless you trust me and care for me enough to not judge you for it, I don't want to hear it."

His eyes dropped sadly to the floor and he nodded. He lied to you already, and he wasn't going to sit there and lie again. But maybe one day he would grow into a better person, someone who would want to share the terrible things they've done with someone they care for and trust they wouldn't think any less of him.

But today was not the day.

He sat back in his chair and you kept your focus on the television as the plane landed and began to screech to a halt. When it slowed, you leaned forward to put your earbuds and book away, then frowned when you saw the pieces of pink seashells still scattered around the bottom of your bag.

You began to scoop them up and Joel watched you curiously, ignoring the flight crew flitting around and doing all their checks.

When your hands emerged from the bag holding the broken pink pieces, he found himself lurching forward.

"They broke?" he asked, feeling far more sentimental about it than he ever expected.

You nodded and dumped them into a small trash can within reach. "When you threw my bag on the floor earlier."

Joel froze and scanned his memory. When did he throw your bag? Then he remembered angrily storming out of your room and haphazardly tossing your bag off your bed to join the rest by the door, not thinking anything of it at the time.

"Fuck," he muttered, dragging his palms roughly over his face. Yet another mistake. "Darlin', I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

"It's fine," you told him, cutting him off when you unbuckled your seatbelt to stand. You caught the look he gave you and you shrugged. "Really, it's fine. I'm over it."

You slung your bag over your shoulder and headed for the exit. Joel stood to follow you, glancing forlornly at the garbage one more time before swiping his wallet and phone from the table next to his laptop.

He nodded to his driver, who stood obediently next to the open car door where you had disappeared inside.

"Richie," Joel greeted him with a firm handshake. Richie smiled before holding out his arm and stepping to the side.

"Congratulations, sir. You must be thrilled."

Joel gave him a curt nod and ducked inside the backseat of the car. Thrilled? No, he was hardly thrilled. A day ago he was thrilled. A day ago he had it all. But now? He had the land, sure. He was bound to make a mountain of money off the new hotel, his business would thrive and his hotel would become a household name.

But it didn't make him happy. Not the way it used to.

"Here," you said after ten minutes of driving in silence. He turned and felt his heart skip a beat when you held out your ring. Slowly, he unfurled his fist to open his palm so you could drop it in his hand. Joel gazed down at it, the gold still warm, and wondered how long it would take for the tightness in his chest to ease.

"I'll have someone drop the clothes and stuff off sometime next week," he murmured, sliding the ring into his inside jacket pocket. It felt like a goddamn weight pressing into chest.

"Keep them," you replied, still facing away from him so you could stare out the window at the quiet, dark streets.

"Part of the contract. They're yours," he reminded you.

"I don't care. I don't have the room for them. Besides, where the hell am I going to wear a designer dress? To the grocery store?"

Joel dropped his gaze to the seat, staring at the space between you. It was only a handful of inches but it felt like miles.

"The money'll be wired tomorrow," he said, clenching his teeth when Richie turned onto your street.

"Keep that, too."

His head whipped around, eyes narrowing into a glare. "No."

"I don't want it, Joel," you insisted as you unbuckled your seatbelt. The car came to a stop and Joel shot his arm out to stop you.

"Richie, give us a second."

The driver immediately stepped out of the car and leaned against the hood to light a cigarette. You fixated on the bright orange glow so you didn't have to look at Joel.

"You're takin' the money," he told you firmly. "You ain't got a job and we signed a goddamn contract. Quit bein' so stubborn."

You sniffled and gathered your bag.

"If you send it, I'm asking my bank to reject it," you replied. Joel groaned and twisted to the side to face you.

"Why? Why are you fightin' me on this?"

"Because!" you exclaimed, emotions getting the best of you. Finally, your watery eyes found his. "Because I can't take it! Not after everything -"

Your voice caught in your throat and your lower lip trembled. Joel's eyebrows pulled together, stomach feeling like it was filled with cement as he fought the urge to cup your face and pull you into his chest.

You took a deep, steadying breath and then temporarily collected yourself.

"I signed that contract before I knew you," you said quietly. "But now... I ... I just can't." I don't want your money, I just want you.

You reached for the door handle, hellbent on leaving before he could see you cry, but his voice stopped you.

"The money's goin' in tomorrow. If you feel that strongly 'bout it, give it to charity or somethin'. But you're gettin' that money."

Before you could respond, you heard him shuffle in his seat and open his door, telling you to stay put, that he would walk you up. And in the brief few seconds it took him to round the car and shoo Richie away from your door, you tossed the two unopened envelopes onto his seat.

The door opened and you hurried out, clutching your bag tightly against your side and jogging up the few stairs to your building.

With shaky hands, you unlocked the door and took a step inside. You weren't sure what made you do it, but before you let go of the door, you turned to look at him one last time.

He stood at the bottom of your steps, staring up at you with his hands shoved into the pockets of his tailored pants. It took him no time at all to lose the casual attire and slip back into suits that probably cost thousands. Even after everything, part of you still wanted him. The pieces of you he did allow you to see were good and fun and sweet.

But just pieces wouldn't do.

"Goodbye, Joel," you said, pretending that your voice didn't crack or that a tear didn't sneak down your cheek. He didn't reply. He just continued to watch you from the sidewalk until you turned and disappeared inside, into an elevator and back into your tiny apartment to cry yourself to sleep.

He didn't say goodbye because he wasn't done. He had already decided hours ago.

He was going to do whatever he had to do to win you back.

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[forlix]

‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝・h.j.

— stars flare brightest in the absence of light, and you see his clearer than day.

words・6.4k

pairing・han jisung x female reader

genres・college!au, friends with benefits to lovers, snowed in trope, smut, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS THAT INTERACT WILL BE BLOCKED, angst, ANGST, you have been warned, hurt/comfort, i can't write normal fluff to save my life, happy ending!!!, semi-slow burn

warnings・depictions of insomnia, recurring nightmares, graphic violence, character death (in the nightmare), fears of abandonment and falling in love, alcohol consumption, humans helping each other heal. smut warnings under the cut

playlist・stay - acoustic by jonah baker・all of me by big gigantic・babydoll (speed) by ari abdul・oasis by exo・volcano by han

a/n・hi, here's my second installment of winter falls. writing this was immensely challenging and twice as meaningful, so feedback would be greatly appreciated. thank you to my may for being so fucking instrumental in piecing together this rollercoaster—this one is for you, i love you. thanks to my sahar for everything, always and forever. and thanks to all of you for being here. happy new year ♡

smut warnings・spitplay, unprotected piv, please practice safe sex!!!, car sex, dirty talk, jisung's dick game is kinda crazy, squirting, lots of aftercare

Every time Jisung closes his eyes, he sees somebody’s back.

It’s leaving. Traipsing somewhere he can’t follow. He tries to chase it—he always does, he never learns—but the premise doesn’t so much as surface before the ghosts circling around his ankles go for his throat instead. They snare him by the shoulders, force him to his knees, slam his forehead into the permafrost hard enough to break bone. They make sure the next time he tries to move will be the last.

So he remains, keeled over in the cold, until tearwater clings to his lower lashes in small icicles. Until bloodstained snow coats his lips like the manifestation of a curse. Until the back has disappeared.

Who does it belong to? He’s left to wonder. Where is it going?

Why can’t I follow?

Then he wakes up.

No longer does he lay awake for hours afterwards, scouring the dream’s every frame for his answers.

Now, he tosses and turns in clammy sheets until his exhaustion wins.

Now, he welcomes sleep like a miracle granted by some pitying god.

You see him.

Through a living room packed with red-faced partygoers and dissected by oscillating strobe lights, albeit, but you see him anyways. 

Jisung can barely make out the rest of your face—he blames the lighting, or the soju, or both—but your eyes alone turn him to glass. Not a fancy vase through which the world distorts, but a simple pane that puts him and his ghosts on full display.

He hopes you like horror movies.

Felix knows you, because of course he does, and Jisung has never been happier to call the extroverted Australian his friend than when you come over to say hi. You stumble out of the crowd all smudged makeup and sweaty skin, your figure hugged by a short black dress with two diamond-shaped openings just above your hips, your glossy lips curved in a drunken smile. Jisung immediately wants it against his mouth.

Instead, it disappears behind his friend as you pull him into a quick hug. A few wisps of your hair dust over Jisung’s arm, momentarily replacing the smells of grease and vodka with cherry blossoms and vanilla.

“Lix, hey!”

“Darling, it’s good to see you! Feels like it’s been ages.”

“I know, right? How are you? How is everything?”

“Good, thank you. Just happy the semester’s over.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Then you go to lift your drink and discover thin air in its place. “Or I won’t. Whoops.”

This prompts Jisung’s first contribution to the conversation—and his first effortless laugh in a long while.

“Eventful night, huh?”

He meets your gaze from all of two feet away this time, and his knees buckle under him. That gaze, fuck. So clear and true, like a prism of glass refracting light into a rainbow. He would let you refract him a thousand times over if he had any light to give.

“Maybe,” you giggle. “Seems I’m a little too happy the semester’s over.”

“Wanna not get a drink to celebrate?”

Your expression flickers. Not in a bad way, more like you hadn’t expected him to ask so soon—or for yourself to have your answer so quickly.

A strobe light catches right under your eye and refracts the color in your blushing face. A rainbow.

“I’d like that.”

He tilts his head towards the kitchen. You give Felix’s elbow a light squeeze before moving past him; he gives Felix a glimpse of his growing smile before falling into step behind you. The blonde shakes his head, throws back the rest of his beer, then swivels at the sound of someone calling his name from across the foyer.

Felix will get drunk enough to forget the sight of you leading Jisung up the stairs, two bottles of pink lemonade tucked under your arm. Nothing stronger, as promised.

Jisung asks his question an entire minute after he intends to. “Where are we going, by the way?”

“Somewhere I can see your pretty face without having to squint,” you reply, and his stomach tumbles like a schoolboy with a valentine.

You don’t stop at the second floor. Instead, you nudge open a door Jisung swears just materialized to his left and emerge into the night air.

It’s warm for December, but he’s still met with chilly winds licking down the sides of his neck. That’s not the only reason he shudders, though. Below his feet, he finds a metal platform akin to that of a fire escape. Above his head, a staircase that looks one forceful step away from dropping off the side of the building.

You turn towards it. 

In a hurry, he sputters, “I’m, uh—I’m not sure about this.”

A beat passes. Your hold on his wrist loosens, not to let go, just to trace wordless reassurance down the back of his hand. Your fingers feel perfect sliding into the spaces between his, like drops of honey in the craters of soufflé pancakes.

“It’s safer than it looks, I promise.”

Jisung heaves a sigh. It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

You’re right, though. The iron rungs are surprisingly rigid beneath his feet, and the two of you make it to the roof with no trouble. He does stumble when you pull him up onto the gravel, but it’s intentional, a purposeful blunder to have you closer. To snag another glimpse of that blush, another trace of that floral vanilla.

“Sorry,” he whispers almost directly upon your lips. And that earns him all three.

The next hour evades him for the most part, and Jisung is pissed about it. He’s with the woman of his dreams under a sky so clear it’s almost lustrous and he’s too shitfaced to recollect when he gave you his hoodie to wear; what you said that made his lungs capsize with how hard he laughed; how you ended up so close to each other, your legs strewn over his lap, his hands tracing over your thighs.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things. He remembers how frighteningly easy you are to talk to; he remembers your habit of smacking his stomach when you get flustered; he remembers you getting flustered a lot. He remembers the timbres of your different laughs and how your stunning features crinkle with each. He remembers feeling like a pane of glass in front of you, just like he had downstairs, and he remembers liking it, somehow. Liking the way you see through him, the way you allow him to just exist as he is. Liking the way you acknowledge his ghosts with such nonchalance, inviting them over for tea and biscuits.

He wants to remember everything about you.

It’s not often he wants to remember anything.

Eventually, your conversation comes to a natural close. In its absence, Jisung notices that the alcoholic sludge in his brain has largely diffused; with it, the rumbling bass of the party below. The full moon hangs at its highest point, blanketing the two of you with anticipatory silence, nudging you towards the only topic you’ve yet to breach.

He meets your gaze again, from all of two inches away this time, and his insides twist.

“You’re still drunk, aren’t you?”

You blink at him, not following. Then he leans his forehead against yours, lets his eyes flicker to your mouth with such unbridled want that you’re instantly dizzy—and no longer confused.

Regret pools in your eyes moments before they close. “Yes, I think so.”

Your lips are so, so close that he can feel the air shift between you when they move, can feel the soft warmth emanating from them. Jisung pulls away before he does anything stupid.

You do the stupid thing for him.

You push his shoulders to the plaster behind him, push yourself onto his lap with a swing of your body and a slotting of your legs on either side of him. 

The plush of your thighs hugging his hips, the curves of your breasts pressed against his chest, Jisung tries to stare up at you, perplexed, aroused. But you’re so close that he can’t, so he settles with whispering upon the underside of your chin, “what are you—”

“Gimme your lemonade.”

The authoritative words come out in a slurred haze, and he all but hastens to oblige. 

You pluck the plastic bottle from his wavering grasp. His empty hand hovers as if uncertain where to go. But matters as trivial as hand placement drop off his mind’s precipice as he watches you unscrew the cap, the slope of your neck illuminated by spindly moonlight, and without thinking he pushes his hands beneath the hem of your—his—hoodie.

The skin of your waist is warm and smooth where his fingertips are cold and calloused, the juxtaposition unimportant in your reciprocal desires to touch and be touched.

“Open,” you murmur.

His jaw goes slack, firstly from pure disbelief. Then, obedience. The dark locks that obstruct his vision of you fall away as his head meets the brick half-wall behind him, as if the midnight breeze itself mandated their removal.

You pour some of the pink liquid past Jisung’s parted lips. Stray rivulets slip down his cheek and vanish beneath his neckline. You break eye contact to follow their path with dilated pupils and fluttering lashes. With unadulterated desire.

He swallows, gently, and feels the sweet substance surround his tonsils.

He swallows, forcefully, when you wrap your lips around the bottle, the plastic still slathered in his spit.

The swig you take is long, deep. Your throat bobs and your eyes close as if you’re savoring a finely-aged nectar. Then your lips are popping off the opening with a soft thwock, leaving a thick strand of saliva to suspend, suspend, suspend until the very second it’s about to drop, which is when you collect the residue with a deft swipe of your tongue.

“A placeholder,” you breathe, and Jisung’s head careens. A shared bottle. An indirect kiss.

“You’re a monster,” he croaks.

You giggle and lean down, curling a hand around his cheek, pressing a wet kiss to his Adam’s apple.

“Tomorrow, if we’re both sober…”

One, two, three pecks up the length of his jaw.

“...and you still remember my address…”

A suckle to the lobe of his ear.

“...you can kiss me, for real.”

A trembling breath.

“And then some.”

Jisung moans, loudly.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things.

He shows up at your place shortly after sunset the next day. You swing open the door, your face already alight with your world-ending smile.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Then he’s kissing you like a man famished.

Jisung learns to love your back, that night. He loves its dips and curves, loves its rise and fall. Loves how it arches into him, how it looks drenched in his cum. It’s the back of his dreams.

The back in his dreams keeps walking.

Jisung has never liked winter.

He has never liked its winds, whispering woefully as if mourning something unnamed and unseen. He has never liked its palette, whitewashing the world as if refracting a rainbow in reverse.

He has never liked cracking open his eyes and seeing the scenery of his nightmare outside his window. Nor does he like trudging over the sleet as if weighed down by the same ghosts that break him time and time again in his dreamscape. They love winter. 

And this winter, he swears, is the bitterest yet. On the nights when he’s allowed to sleep, the nightmare comes in such sharp relief that he thinks he’d rather anything else, the ghosts meaner, the blood redder, the silhouette slower. It’s an act of mercy when he’s still awake by the time bleached sunlight perforates the curtains, resting upon his salted cheeks and balled fists.

This winter, it is not just dislike that he feels towards the gray winds—it’s hatred. A maelstrom of loathing so large and dark that Jisung no longer knows where it’s headed or what it’s directed to. Or who.

When winter break comes to an end, he’s probably the only person who’s happy about it.

His friends certainly aren’t, looking like a line of angry nutcrackers with their folded arms and thunderous faces standing outside Greem Cafe.

Jisung calls out a greeting as he jogs towards them, and cue the grumbling.

“What is there to smile about? Enlighten us.” That’s Hyunjin. “I have to deal with four finals and three essays in the next five days and this guy is smiling.”

“He’s accepted his fate, I reckon.” That’s Felix. “We should do the same, boys. Let ourselves down easy, y’know?”

“No, no, he’s smiling because he remembered to bring me his chem notes.” That’s Jeongin. “You did, right? Please say you did.”

Jisung is stunned into silence. “Can I not be happy to see my friends?”

“No,” Hyunjin and Felix reply in unison.

“My bad,” he sighs.

“My notes,” Jeongin repeats.

“I have them, dude. Let’s sit down first.”

The younger boy shouts an impassioned “THANK YOU” at the sky like the clouds just saved his GPA. Jisung reaches for the door to the café, then stops at the sound of Felix’s voice.

“We’re waiting on one more person.”

He turns towards the blonde with puzzled eyes. He’d been under the impression the study session would comprise just them four.

“Who?”

Felix’s response falters on his tongue when he catches sight of something in the distance, and his face changes in a way Jisung’s seen before.

“Look behind you.” Felix shuffles past him, raising his voice to shout, “yo!”

Jisung glances away from the newcomer as quickly as he sees her. It’s not until his eyes pivot to the fire hydrant across the street that he processes her identity.

In one second flat, his mind clutters full. He thinks back to that party, when all it took was the sight of your smile for him to theorize you were the most exquisite thing ever made. He thinks back to the next evening, when he kissed you and verified his hypothesis. He thinks back to what followed and would continue to follow in the few days that remained before break: entwined tongues and emblazoned hickeys, whitened knuckles and whiny praise, snapping hips and shaking bedframes.

This winter, Jisung swears, is the bitterest yet.

But seeing you, the scarf wound multiple times around your neck doing nothing to hide your gorgeous smile, feels like catching a fragment of summer in his frozen hands.

“Thank god,” Felix groans before embracing you. Collapsing on you, more like. “I’m saved.”

You reach around to pat the boy on the back, your eyes brimming with laughter. “Lower your expectations, please. I did well on one exam.”

“You aced the midterm. That automatically makes you a rocket scientist,” Felix corrects, his voice muffled into the shoulder of your coat. A few beats of silence pass. Then, “this is comfy.”

“Okay, okay, let’s go get some caffeine in you,” you giggle. “We have a lot of ground to cover today.”

Felix straightens up sleepily. And sadly. “Superb.”

Jisung hangs back as you introduce yourself to Hyunjin and Jeongin. He doesn’t even notice his growing smile until you’re standing directly in front of him and for the first time in three weeks there’s the smell of cherry blossoms in the air and a rainbow shining on his face again.

“Hi,” he offers.

“Hey,” you reply.

Hyunjin is the one to shatter the prolonged silence that follows. “Are you guys betrothed?”

Felix and Jeongin stalk into the café snickering. You and Jisung trail behind with flaming cheeks.

It takes Jisung two and a half hours to talk to you again. At that point in the afternoon, Felix is napping on the second practice test you’ve given him; Hyunjin has downed three shots of pure espresso and is currently viewing his screen with concerning intensity; Jeongin is at another table on a quiet Zoom call with his chemistry T.A., Jisung’s notes clutched to his chest like a life vest. And you’re leaning back against your seat opposite to him, scrolling through your phone in what he presumes to be a well-deserved study break. As good a time as any.

He opens up his texts with you. His fingers fly across the keyboard.

Jisung: do you have plans after this?

Your eyes stutter to the top of your screen, linger there for a moment, and lock onto Jisung’s from across the table.

He presses his lips into a thin line to suppress his smile. You let yours spill over in full form, and with it comes a soft giggle that would be worth getting his number fucking blocked just to hear one more time.

Three gray dots appear before elongating into a prompt response.

Y/N: I was gonna ask you the same thing…

He’s the one who laughs this time. Fuck, you’re cute. You’re so cute.

Jisung: can i take you to dinner? Y/N: Yes, I’d love that :) Y/N: When should we leave? Jisung: 9? Y/N: Sounds good~ Jisung: cool Jisung: it’s a date Y/N: It’s a date! Y/N: Excited 💛

With that, you put your phone face down and return to work, though your lips remain privately upturned. Jisung wants to kiss them again.

He also wants to turn you into a mess on his cock again.

Or both.

He doesn’t get much studying done after that thought surfaces.

Jisung: me too <3

When nine o’clock rolls around, you and Jisung begin cleaning up your work stations in near-perfect simultaneity. There’s confusion written all over Hyunjin’s and Jeongin’s faces as they watch you swing your backpacks over your shoulders—but Felix’s expression is a blank slate as he sips from his macchiato. Your ingenuity isn’t the only reason he invited you today.

As you make your way out of the café, your shoulders brush once, twice, and then Jisung drops his hand into the space between the two of you without uttering a word. You scoop it up in your own without missing a beat.

He steps into the freezing night feeling warm all over.

“You know what I realized?” You say as you walk towards his SUV.

“What did you realize?”

“We’ve never had a sober conversation before. Can we change that tonight?”

Jisung has broken hearts before.

There’s no euphemistic way to describe his tendency to abuse the sensitive organs, to wring them out and throw them away like irrelevant trash. To juggle and drop them with a sheepish laugh like they’re nothing more than props in a circus act.

He doesn’t do it to save himself or his partners from getting hurt or any self-ingratiating bullshit like that. It’s for himself, all for himself. All to unload his balls and his mind for fifteen blissful seconds. 

There’s blood on his hands. He never cared to wash it off.

Except you are the one asking for his heart this time around, a dash of hope in your smile as you do so, and he thinks it would be his life’s greatest honor to be discarded by you.

“Sure,” he answers.

He doesn’t even last until he’s inside the car.

Your back meets the door to the passenger’s seat, guided there by his hands on your hips. From millimeters away he watches your surprise morph into understanding, then darken into lust.

“I like when we don’t talk, though.”

It’s the most annoying thing in the world to remove so many layers in such a cramped space.

Combined, your clothing forms a tower high enough to block out the driver’s window completely. An unnecessary blockade.

The glass fogs up anyways.

“Fuck, Ji, yes, right there, oh my god.”

You have your legs spread open and the back of your neck digging into the cupholder on the door. It’s not comfortable. You’re too busy getting fucked open to care.

Jisung detaches his lips from your neck to ask, “here, baby?”

The head of his cock hits that gummy spot again, harder, sweeter. You convulse, your hand scrambling for purchase in his raven locks.

“Yes, yes, yes, don’t stop, please.”

Please. The word plays over in his fuzzy mind.

It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

His cock slips out of you and you lament the loss of contact with a high wail.

“W-why’d—where’d you go?”

He can’t help but chuckle at how incoherent you’ve become. He cradles the back of your head with a tender hand and lowers your upper body onto the leather seat, adjusting himself to your new elevation.

“Right here, beautiful. Didn’t go anywhere—promise—” 

He expels the final word through gritted teeth as he slams into you again, and the new angle is glorious. Your bodies keen in flawless harmony. Profanities tumble from his lips in a steady stream before they turn back into syllables.

“Would never go anywhere. Would never leave without making this pretty pussy cream like it deserves—holy fucking shit, baby.”

You clench around him at his words and then he’s setting a new, relentless rhythm, rocking the whole vehicle with every hearty smack of his hips against yours, your wet walls squeezing him so dreamily he thinks he sees nirvana with every thrust.

You’re enjoying it just as much, if the bubbles of spit in the corner of your mouth are any indication, and Jisung is viciously proud to be the cause. Unbelievably lucky to feel your breasts jiggling under his chest and your nails digging into the back of his neck.

“Good?” He whispers, and you nod blissfully.

“So—good, Ji, so fucking good. Your cock is perfect, fuck, I can’t even—can’t even think.”

“You’re the perfect one. Can’t believe how well your cunt takes me, shit. It’s like it was fucking made for this.”

“It was,” you breathe, and he nearly shoots his load into you at this alone. “It was, it was—oh, god, I think—think I’m gonna come—”

“Do it,” he rasps. “Come for me. Come on this cock and it’s yours.”

“R-really?”

“Really.”

“Then, I will. I’ll come on your cock—make it mine. Need it so fucking bad, I’m so fucking close, oh—please—”

He anchors himself in place with a hand against the windowsill and the other travels down your body to rub fast, tight circles into your clit. You let out a wanton, prolonged moan, tilt your head back to expose him to your fluttering throat. And then you’re pulling his lips onto yours again, and the following kiss is sloppy beyond belief, the kind that can only antedate the happiest of endings.

“My cock,” you sigh into his mouth. “Mine.”

“Forever,” is the breathy response he doesn’t know if he means, the response he gives you anyways.

And then you curl your fingers in his hair. Clamp your teeth around his lower lip. Clench your thighs around his waist. There’s liquid everywhere. Tearwater spilling down the sides of your face. Release gushing all over his dick and pelvis and backseat.

He catches up the moment he realizes what’s just happened. Pulls out of you. Presses his head against the roof of his car. Spits on his hand. Pumps his pulsating cock. Sends himself over the edge you’ve just finished tripping over.

Eventually, he regains feeling in his limbs.

He opens his eyes, surveys the damage, and grins.

Your stomach is covered in ropes of white, your expression hidden behind your hands. You start shaking your head in profuse embarrassment the moment you feel his eyes on you.

“You squirted,” he says.

“I know,” you almost yell, and his grin erupts into a laugh.

He lowers himself back over you, takes your wrists, and removes them from your blushing face. He doesn’t think he’s seen you so flustered before and it has him palpitating in ways he never thought feasible.

Maybe he did mean the damn thing after all.

He pushes off the strands of hair clinging to your damp forehead and replaces them with a gentle kiss. “It was sexy as fuck and you’re everything.” 

There’s a certain softness in your eyes when he pulls away. He hopes, for your sake, it’s all in his head.

His car is in need of aftercare most of all. You shrug on your clothes with considerable effort and get to work, all while sharing comfortable chatter and easy laughter.

Those things persist during your dinner date at a nearby Chinese restaurant and the drive back to your place, which Jisung knows well enough to no longer need his GPS. Those things persist until he kisses you goodbye on your doorstep, because he would have to be fucking crazy not to after you gave him the best night he’s had in so long.

After you reminded him that he’s still capable of comfort and ease, in spite of it all.

Snow comes a few weeks into the new year. 

This winter, it falls late, and it falls hard, like a gust of breath expelled from drawn lungs at the very last minute. Held there as if lying in wait for something unnamed and unseen. 

The gust of breath is too quiet to be heard over the one Jisung lets out against the shell of your ear. “Wait here.”

He goes to roll off you. You don’t let him just yet, darting your hand around his wrist and bringing his face back within centimeters of yours.

Han Jisung is beautiful. You knew it for the first time at that houseparty and you’ve known it every hour of every day since. But it’s always clearest to you in the afterglow, when his bare skin is golden and sticky and his delicate lips bitten to bright fuchsia. 

When his irises have gone black and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light.

You close the distance that remains between you. Your lips part with a content sigh. Your hands drift over the slant of his neck; his find home in the dips above your waist.

He breaks away once you’re both out of breath, and the pad of his thumb wipes lightly at your lower lip.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes,” you reply shyly. “I couldn’t help myself.”

The smile this brings to his face reminds you of a candle’s flame. Soft on the eyes and scalding to the touch when he presses it back against your lips. Once, twice.

“Can you wipe your cum off me now?” You whisper, and he laughs straight into your mouth.

The mattress lifts. His footsteps grow quieter. You shiver in his absence.

Only then do you notice the blizzard.

You stumble off the bed to throw your curtains aside. Snow descends from the sky like spools of unraveling yarn. The streetlights have been reduced to foggy specks, the parked cars to blurry heaps. Every sidewalk and rooftop in sight has already been slathered in ivory.

Jisung announces his return with a disbelieving whistle.

“Am I dreaming?” You murmur.

“When did that happen?”

“I have no idea.”

You don’t even notice the wild smile on your face until you turn to him and catch his reaction to it. He looks like he’s asking himself the same question.

“C’mere,” he hums, and you oblige.

He laves the warm towel over your breasts and stomach, as well as the places his release has trickled since you flung yourself to your feet. All while supporting the small of your back with a touch fatally careful, an expression wholly adoring. All evidence of just how blurry the line between sexual escapade and lover has become in two short months.

Your ribcage fucking throbs.

“You don’t seem excited,” you say.

He finishes cleaning you off. You give him a distracted thank you, noticing the sudden shadow draped over his face like a netted veil.

“I’m not,” he answers, not unkindly.

“You don’t like snow?”

“Not really.”

“Why?”

He circles around the bed to get dressed. You bend to pick up the clothes tossed aside earlier and drop them into your hamper, then slip into a clean pair of underwear and sweatpants.

“It’s a long story.”

Just as you reach for a top, a bundle of cloth travels in an arc across your bedroom and hooks itself around the crook of your arm. His T-shirt. 

You glance at Jisung. He’s already looking elsewhere, but his private smile makes its way onto your face as you slip it on.

“Well, I have time.” You sink into your mattress, now surrounded by his muted musk, his papyrus and petrichor. “We’ll be stuck here a while, after all.”

“Stuck?” Jisung repeats, the lanyard of his car keys dangling from the pocket of his hoodie, his feet turned towards the door.

A pregnant pause commences. His intentions dawn, and you gape.

“You’re not driving right now.”

He breaks eye contact.

“Right?”

That was the plan, you read in his expression.

You know better than trying to reverse a river’s current by kicking up rocks. You know better than trying to curtail the flight of an albatross by clipping its wings.

You know better than asking someone who thinks he was made to leave to stay.

And you won’t.

“I have somewhere to be early tomorrow morning,” he stammers, the lines terribly rehearsed. “The snow’s not heavy, I’ll be—”

“Stay.”

You’re not asking.

Jisung looks at you, startled, as you glide across the bed. You place your feet on the hardwood and circle your arms around his waist. Lace your fingers upon the hollow of his back. His pulse goes uneven at your abrupt proximity.

Akin to the drag of a feather, you mouth at his cheek, then the side of his neck.

“You can stay, Jisung.”

He shudders at your words, and you’ve got him.

It’s oddly normal, the sight of him clambering into your bed in your clothing—a pair of old sweatpants and your favorite crewneck—like this isn’t the first time you’re sleeping together in your two months of sleeping together.

In fact, the only indication of anything unordinary is the floaty feeling in your stomach when your head hits the pillow and discover Jisung’s face only inches away. He drapes an arm over your waist, gathering you close. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

The inevitable question follows.

“Can I save the story for another time?”

“Sure,” you return, keeping your voice small. He doesn’t hear your disappointment this way. “Should we go to sleep, then?”

“We should.”

Your foreheads touch. Your noses bump together. Your eyes cross, watching the adoration pull at his. You dimly register your hand threading in his fluffy locks, his thumb running over your cheekbone. Your lashes narrowly miss the surface of his eyes, and then he tips your face up by millimeters.

You don’t remember when you fall asleep. You only recall the hour beforehand that you spend with Jisung’s lips traversing yours, like you are the ocean and he’s uncovering new waters with every bruise he prints against your throat, every suckle he leaves around your tongue.

In your dream, the roles reverse and you are the one exploring him, mapping out his constellations with wide-eyed wonder.

You wake to a black hole.

For the first five seconds, you see nothing. You hear nothing. You feel nothing. You only blink in the darkness, your mind kicking into groggy gear to ask the very good question of why you’re conscious again.

Instinct moves your hand across the mattress. Empty space greets you where Jisung should be. Unfounded dread shoves your back off the bed. You gasp, the sound seeming to echo in the cavernous silence.

Your eyes adjust enough to discern light in the crack beneath your door, and you’re wide awake.

The following events go by in a blur. You stumble out of bed and into your closet, fastening your fingers around the thickest piece of fabric you find. You fly into the living room, where the lamp by the couch is left on and the pair of worn black Converse on your doormat have gone missing.

The front door is cracked open, and through the narrow inches you spot someone hunched on the stairs outside, his dark hair dyed platinum by the awning light’s fluorescence.

Your heart stills in relief, then quickens with anxiety.

You’ve tried wearing this crewneck in January enough times to know you can’t. In fact, you suspect that it somehow soaks up the temperature, lets it seep in between its every seam until it becomes one with the bitter winds. 

But he isn’t shivering, you notice as you take a seat next to him, draping the puffer over both of your shoulders on your way down. He’s simply staring off into the bleak storm, snowflakes sitting atop his head like a coating of ash, their color matching that of his frozen skin. He’s becoming one with the bitter winds. 

At first, you don’t recognize the man in front of you.

You’re well familiar with those ring-laden hands and the whetted jawline thrown into shadow, those remnants of cologne clinging to his frame. But you have never seen that gaze before, bloodshot and bleak and belonging to somebody new. Somebody who isn’t completely here, straddling the partition between the realms of people and phantoms.

Then he lifts his eyes and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light. Your stars.

And you recognize him for the first time ever.

You drop your hand to your hip, and his fingers feel stiff and cold and perfect, sliding into the spaces between yours.

“Why don’t you like snow?” You ask.

Jisung’s eyes return to the swirling sleet, but he moves your interlocked hands to rest on his thigh, and you know that he’s with you.

He’s been having this nightmare.

It takes place in a small clearing. It’s winter, and everything is covered in snow. Not the gentle kind that you can catch on your tongue, but the unyielding kind that’s hard and dense and covered in cracks, like a lake newly frozen over.

Somebody is in front of him, walking away. He can only see their back. He wants to chase after them. He doesn’t want to be left behind. But there are ghosts nearby, and they’ll split his skull open on the permafrost and tie his windpipe into a pretty bow if he so much as dreams of pursuit. He always does. He doesn’t know how not to.

Normally, the back leaves, and he can do nothing but remain. He can direct his loathing only to the snow into which he bleeds. 

Normally, he waits for the dream to end with something bordering on boredom. He’s seen this movie too many times. He fucking hates how it ends.

This time, though, the snow tastes like something.

After the flavors deliquesce upon his tongue, his head shoots up, his eyes blowing wide as they latch onto the retreating figure. He knows who it is.

His feet scrabbles against the ice with his attempts to rise to them. He lunges forward with frenzied resolve, and that is when the ghosts snap his neck.

He wakes up.

“Cherry blossoms and vanilla.”

You blink, tearwater streaking from your eyes in silent, steaming trails.

“That’s—”

My shampoo.

A broken sob escapes you in lieu of the rest of your sentence, and Jisung laughs, a flimsy facade that crumbles when he lifts his hand to dab at your moistened cheeks and it’s trembling.

“Silly,” he murmurs. “I’m used to it now.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“I don’t want you to cry for me.”

“You died.”

“And I would do it again.”

This response comes without an shred of hesitation.

You first realized you had something to confess, that night in the the back of Jisung’s SUV. You’ve kept it locked away for your sake and his, even moreso. You see how fear clings to him like an unshakeable wraith, and you refuse to feed the parasite.

Now, your confession explodes from its fortress in the center of your soul and rises up your larynx. You panic like an inept security guard letting their only prisoner bolt free. Is it really the right time? Do you know what to say? Have you really thought this through? 

Too late. It’s rushing to the point of your tongue already. You suppose you’ll find out.

He saves you the trouble.

“Honestly?”

Your confession stills. 

“I don’t know if I’m okay, and I won’t try to convince you otherwise. You’d call my bluff. You’re good at that.

“But everything feels okay when I’m with you. You see me. You allow me just to exist as I am. You make me feel human again—you make me want to feel human again. You empty my mind.”

You feel as if you’ve been ejected into space naked, griping for air where there is none.

“I never believed in having somebody to lose,” he utters, gently leaning his forehead against yours. “But I would rather disappear than watch you go.”

You cradle his jaw with shaking fingers, trying and failing to quell the violence of your emotion.

“Don’t go,” he exhales.

You kiss him.

It should feel the same as before. You reach for the slant of his neck, him the dips above your waist. You sigh into him, parting your lips, and he moves into you deeper, harder, dipping into your mouth with his tongue’s pliant swipe. But there’s something new in the way you hold each other, in the seal of your mouth against his.

The line between sexual escapade and lover vanishes as if swept off the sand and into the sea. His stars come out of hiding at last and they bathe you in their residue, light your heart aglow.

Your confession resurfaces. It wants to stargaze also.

“I love you too,” you breathe.

The night comes and goes.

The two of you spend it entangling, sweating, your lips glued the expanse of his neck and the arcs of his shoulders, writing over the ghosts’ injuries with bruises of your making.

Only when the winds have faltered outside do you attempt to rest again. You are curled up in balmy bliss, utterly depleted. Jisung’s arms around your middle and legs threaded among yours bring you that much closer to slumber’s cusp.

You attribute it to your exhaustion when he mumbles something against you, and you have no idea what it means: “Thank you for refracting me.” 

Your confusion is palpable in your silence. His laugh hits the nape of your neck with a gentle puff, and he kisses the spot just beneath your ear. “Never mind.”

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© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support!

[wileys-russo]

the summer tenant (1) II j.hermoso

its missing jenni hours, little mini series incoming the summer tenant (1) II j.hermoso

"sí sí sí i am forever in your debt león. happy?" you laughed, phone wedged between your ear and shoulder as you weighed your carry on, breathing a sigh of relief when it didn't breach the limit for your flight.

"i will be happy when you finally come home!" your best friend whined making you roll your eyes. "my ass is on its way maría, and tu culo better pick me up later!" you warned, muting her for a moment as you stepped up to the front desk and gave your details, boarding pass printed and handed over.

"no i am not thanking you, i was getting my boarding pass. my stuff is all accounted for sí? it arrived safely?" you frowned in worry, this entire process having been anything but smooth.

"sí amiga, just like i told you yesterday and every other day you've asked everything is in boxes ready to be unpacked once you move, and there is just a few things and files and boxes still in storage at your old place in the garage." mapi promised as you exhaled, hovering by the security check knowing you'd need to hang up before going through, promising mapi to call her the moment you landed before ending the call.

you'd grown up in zaragoza, a few houses down from the dirty blonde you'd been practically attached to like a siamese twin almost your whole life. as you got older you'd moved to madrid to go to university, and then to barcelona for better career opportunities once you graduated.

though for the last three years you'd been living in portugal, a dream job when it arose far too tempting to pass as much as it hurt you to move away from your life, friends and family all still scattered around spain.

you of course returned home to visit but once you'd fallen in love the visits had been few and far between, your life becoming split in two as you had anchors tying you down in either country, admittedly maybe allowing the one in portugal a little too much influence.

which is why it hurt so much when that anchor was suddenly cut loose, almost drowning you in the aftermath of what you'd describe as your first real heartbreak.

so licking your wounds you found yourself with a choice, to stay and soldier through the tattered remains of your life in portugal or retreat back to spain with your tail between your legs and into the arms of the rest of your support circle.

the choice was one you probably made a little too fast once your best friend sweet talked the right people and popped up on her weekend off with a job offer and a plan, more than ready to drag you back home.

it hadn't been the easiest of processes, you'd given your two weeks in at your job which turned into four and then into six so you could adequately train your replacement and smoothly handover your client list.

right after the breakup mapi had convinced you to let her rent out your old place in barcelona for some extra income while you weren't sure how long you'd still be in portugal, your now ex quite the well respected lawyer meant you'd come off with much less than you deserved in assets after the split.

you were crashing with a coworker and slowly shipping your belongings home to meet you whenever you could finally leave all this mess behind you.

though really your old place was too large for just you and though you were returning home you wanted a fresh start which meant a new place, mapi offering for you to stay with her while you searched for the right one.

between her and her girlfriend they technically had an apartment each in the same building, though they spent majority of their time in ingrids which was set up best, mapi's used more as a storage locker which is why she was more than happy to let you stay there temporarily.

and with all sorts of tourists flocking to the warm beaches of barcelona for the summer it made sense that you wring out a little extra money from your old place before putting it on the market.

so now finally free from all that tied you to portugal bar a few friendships you suspected may eventually die out with the distance, and almost all of your belongings safely back in spain, it was time for you to join them.

"estás bromeando." you snickered in disbelief as you exited the terminal, spotting the sign and balloons right away and praying they weren't for you. but of course knowing your family, no such luck.

"i am suddenly wishing i lied about which flight i took." you called out with a shake of your head, a cheeky grin and a blur of tattoos and tan skin darting in front of you before a body was slamming you nearly to the ground.

"hola amiga." you exhaled happily, squeezing the footballer just as tightly as you gave her girlfriend a wave who was hanging back with a smile. "mejor amiga." mapi corrected, pulling away and sloppily kissing your cheek making you grimace and push her away.

"you drove all the way here to pick me up? i told you i could come see you on the weekend!" you laughed at your parents, knowing it was almost a four hour journey from your childhood home where they still lived to the airport they were stood in now.

"it has been many years we have prayed for this day hija, let us enjoy it." your mami smiled warmly as you hugged them both next, exhaling happily at the rapid spanish which floated around the air.

you greeted ingrid next, having met the girl many times despite no longer living here, often teasing your best friend that should they break up you'd actually take ingrids side since she was so lovely, but really you adored seeing her so loved up and well treated by the norweigan.

"welcome home from prison? maría!" you groaned, the defender hiding behind her girlfriend making both yours and ingrids eyes roll. "it was his idea!" her finger reached around and pointed to your papi who shrugged with a smile that said it all.

~

"and you told her i was coming to grab some things?" you clarified with mapi who hummed in confirmation. the footballer had been doing the majority of the communication with your tenant in your old place considering until now you'd been in another country and she had set the whole thing up anyway.

you'd tried to offer her some money for all of her help which all that earned you was a firm punch to the arm and a warning not to be stupid, reminding you that family always helps family and doesn't expect anything in return.

"sí sí she said she wouldn't be home anyway, and you are only needing to access the garage so you will not be entering the house." mapi assured as you nodded, telling her to text you what she wanted you to grab from the market on your way back before ending the call.

stupidly mislabeling a few boxes had meant you were missing a large amount of clothing, and though both ingrid and mapi assured you were free to wear anything of theirs you already felt like you were asking too much of them staying with them anyway.

besides a lot of your more work appropriate clothes were what was missing and due to start this new role in a few days time and anything but a patient woman you were quite eager to get your ducks in a line.

"oh come on!" you grunted, having twisted the key in the garage door but struggling to pull it open, something that had pained you for years. a waterfall of curse words fell from your lips as your frustration grew and you strained to tug it open, hope fasting fading.

"you know robbers do not usually make so much noise?" you jumped at a voice behind you, dropping the door and spinning around with a startled expression.

"lo siento. i am not a robber, i am-" you tried to explain but the taller girl waved off your words. "the owner, sí? i spoke to mapi this morning." she smiled charmingly, pearly white teeth bared in amusement.

"i am jenni, your tenant." she added on with a grin holding out a heavily tattooed hand as you nodded in understanding and properly introduced yourself. "trouble with the door? there is a trick." she held up a finger and nodding for you to move aside.

you frowned curiously but did as she asked, watching as she twisted the key and popped her shoulder into the door, your eyebrows shooting up nearly as fast as the door was opened. "fácil!" she winked and gestured inside.

"i lived here for nearly five years and-" you mumbled with an annoyed huff. "-and i live here for a few weeks and know all the tricks." jenni laughed, hovering just outside as you squatted down and began to move through boxes.

"something like that." you sent her a smile over your shoulder. "i promise i will get everything out soon, my car is still in portugal and its the last thing to come back and-" you stopped yourself realizing a complete stranger would be the last person to care.

"and i do not need to be wasting more of your time, lo siento." you shook your head, finding the box you needed and tugging it up and out. "no need to apologise. you are from barcelona?" jenni asked curiously as you shook your head.

"zaragoza, but i have been living in portugal for the last few years." you answered with a polite smile. "mm then how did you end up with a house in barcelona?" jenni questioned, lips curled upward and eyes scanning you up and down.

"my mami taught me not to talk to strangers." you teased making her laugh. "so did mine but here i am letting one into my garage." jenni pointed out as you now laughed. "my garage, technically." you shrugged, noticing a large motorcycle in the corner of the garage.

"pulling the landlord card querida? vale vale. well i have paperwork we both signed though that says for another four and a half months it is my garage." jenni reminded with a grin to which you couldn't argue.

"do you ride?" you asked nodding curiously toward the bike. "what happened to not talking to strangers? i cannot ask how you ended up in barcelona but you can ask me about my bike?" jenni gasped mockingly as you rolled your eyes.

"well you just answered my question anyway." you smiled picking up the box of clothes and moving back outside as jenni effortlessly reached up and grabbed the roller door to bring it back down, something you needed a ladder for which was oddly attractive.

jenni herself was quite attractive, the way her bright eyes followed you and rose pink links curved into an alluring smile, not to mention each of her long limbs covered in even more tattoos than mapi as she was wearing only a pair of shorts and a plain white oversized shirt.

you opened your mouth to speak but were cut off by a second stranger who came storming out of the house, flipping the girl in front of you off and practically diving into a car speeding away making you frown as the other girl in front of you rolled her eyes.

"friend of yours?" you asked with a raised eyebrow as jenni shrugged. "something like that. would you like to come in for a drink?" the abruptness of her question catching you off guard as you opened and closed your mouth.

"i don't think-" you started, placing down the box as jenni cut you off. "you know if you have a drink with me, i will not be a stranger anymore. didn't your mami also teach you about manners and hospitality?" jenni challenged making you scoff but smile.

"my plans for the evening just ditched me, i already started dinner. it is rude to make someone eat and drink alone you know!" jenni tutted, stepping forward and picking up the box for you before you could protest.

"vamos, i promise i am a good cook and an even better host."

~

and as you woke up that next morning in a bedroom both familiar and unfamiliar, you knew her words to be true.

you could smell coffee as you rubbed your eyes and sat up, you heard the door open and tugged the covers up to hide your naked chest, jenni strolling in with a steaming mug.

"how did you know?" you smiled, always starting your day with coffee as the taller girl gave you an add look. "how did i know i wanted coffee?" she chuckled taking a sip as your cheeks flushed with embarrassment at your assumption.

"what time is it?" you asked with a stretch, bending down and snaking your shirt from the floor, slipping it over your head. "eleven, you really slept in." jenni hummed, leaning against the doorframe as bright green eyes drunk you in.

"sorry." you chuckled, completely missing the slightly awkward silence in the air as jenni stepped forward. "your box of stuff is by the door, get dressed and you should go." the girl shrugged, turning on heel and heading out of the room as your mouth opened in shock.

none the less you hurried to collect your clothes, pulling them on and following after her.

"you know landlords should not really sleep with tenants." jenni tutted with a smirk, pulling herself up and onto the counter as you forced your eyes not to roam her half naked body, flashes of last night where it was pressed against you flickering through your mind.

you scoffed and crossed your arms, opening your mouth to let her have it but she spoke first. "whats wrong bebé? not the normal coffee and breakfast waiting for you afterwards that you are used to? i am not that type of girl." jenni chuckled sipping from her mug.

"but last night we talked about so many things and-" "had sex? sí, and we both got something out of that no? now you should really go, technically a landlord cannot be here without the tenants permission." jenni smirked as you could only scoff.

not gracing her with another word you turned on heel and headed for the front door, hearing her footsteps pad after you as you made a swift exit. you paused as you heard a sharp whistle, slowly turning around.

"did you just whistle at me like a dog?" you asked in disbelief crossing your arms and making her chuckle where she leaned against the door. "you forgot your box." she nodded downward at her feet as you stiffened, swallowing your pride and making your way back toward her.

you glared at her as she simply smiled charmingly, sipping at her coffee as you picked up the box and turned again, storming down the path.

though a second wind brewing as you reached the end you shook your head, spinning to give her a piece of your mind but it was too late, the front door already clicking closed as you heard the turn of the lock.

"puta."

[lavnderwonu]

first time | kim mingyu

pairing: bf!mingyu x virgin!fem!reader

genre: smut, established relationship

summary: your first time having sex with your boyfriend.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: contains smut (!!!), loss of virginity, inexperienced reader, experienced mingyu, fingering, clit stimulation, masturbation, size kink, oral sex (f receiving), mingyu is a sweetheart <3, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, aftercare.

author’s note!: inspired by this specific ask lol. i have been pondering this in my head for a minute, and i decided to just bring it to life. if this topic/genre isn’t your cup of tea, don’t read it, go read some of my other works. feedback is always appreciated, enjoy! 💞

p.s. we're lucky this made it out of the drafts

to be added to my taglist, click here!

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Mingyu gently asks, gazing down at you as his hands are at the hem of your t-shirt.

He’s stopped himself from pulling it off, patiently awaiting your permission.

Mingyu was always patient with you, more so than you thought you deserved. He never wanted to rush you into something you weren’t ready for, especially when you were open with him and told him you’d never had sex before.

All your friends thought it was a mistake to tell him that, and that he’d find any excuse to leave, especially since they couldn’t believe that a guy like him could want to be with an in-experienced girl like you, and that he’d want somebody who basically…knew what to do with him.

But he never did, and he patiently waited for you.

Now here you are, lying on his bed as he’s towering over you, his hands slowly sliding up your shirt.

“…I need to hear you say it.” Mingyu continues.

You brush his hair back off his forehead, kissing him gently. “Yes, Mingyu…” You can’t help but giggle as you can’t believe how sweet he’s being.

He undresses you carefully, kissing all over your body gently.

Mingyu gently trails kisses down your stomach, stopping when he reaches the waist of your underwear. He tugs on the waistband as you lift your hips for him to take them off.

He takes in the sight of you; already nearly dripping wet for him when all he did was kiss you.

“Do you touch yourself, baby?” Mingyu asks you, his gaze lifting up from your soaking core.

“Uh-huh…” You nod, suddenly feeling lightheaded as he’s now watching your every move.

“Show me, baby.” He smirks, clearly amused.

“Go ahead.”

You bring your fingers down to your clit, circling it a few times, the sense of relief making your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you dip your fingers between your folds to gather more wetness, bringing them back up to your clit.

Mingyu’s gaze fixates on your core, until it tears away when you call out his name.

“Mingyu…” You whine, as you shamelessly rock your hips against your hand.

“What, baby?” Mingyu licks his lips as he watches you. 

“Touch me,” You beg, leaning your head back against his pillow, while already feeling so eager to know what he feels like. “Please.”

Saving teasing you for another time, since you’re begging for him and he can’t resist, his fingers replace yours and holy shit is it so much better.

You moan against his lip as he kisses you fervently, before he’s climbing down your body until he’s settling himself between your parted thighs.

Your heart pounds in anticipation, his hands gentle as he pushes your thighs further apart for him. 

“So pretty…” He mumbles as he eyes your soaking wet core in front of him. “Can’t believe you’ve never done this before…”

You almost want to kick him as if to say get on with it already, but before you can even think, he’s nudging his face between your thighs. 

His tongue slides over your clit, and the feeling makes you throw your head back.

“Fuck…” You let out a shaky cry, as you reach out and tangle your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly as you’re desperate for something to hold.

Mingyu groans against your cunt as you let out the prettiest sounds, wanting to hear more from you, he slides two fingers inside you, feeling your walls stretch around his fingers.

“Shit… Mingyu,” You gasp, arching your back off the bed as your hips grind against his hand as his fingers slowly fuck you. His fingers stretching you open almost hurts, but it feels too good all at the same time.

In perfect timing he swirls his tongue around your sensitive clit just as he curls his fingers, perfectly hitting a spot that nearly has you seeing stars. With a loud cry of his name, your legs lock as an orgasm suddenly overtakes you.

Mingyu pulls back just as your head falls back against his pillow, your neck lightly covered in a sheen of sweat. You’re still catching your breath when Mingyu hovers over you again, kissing your forehead gently. 

“Ready, baby?” He asks, as he’s ridding himself of his Calvin Klein boxers, making your attention draw to his cock; the mere size nearly takes your breath away. 

“You can tell me to stop anytime… okay?”

“Okay.” You breathe out in anticipation, eager to finally know what he feels like.

Mingyu gently pushes your thighs apart, slowly running his cock through your folds to wet himself with your arousal. He inadvertently bumps your clit, making you whimper and grip the sheets in your fist. 

He lines himself up with your entrance, shuddering in pleasure when he finally sinks into you, making you gasp.

“Mingyu…” You whine as he’s stretching you open, making you grab onto his sturdy shoulders to ground yourself. “Fuck, you’re so big.”

Mingyu leans down to gently kiss your jaw, leading down your neck to distract you. “You’re taking me so well, baby. Fuck.” He groans as he finally bottoms out.

His thrusts start off slow and shallow at first, letting you get used to him. You’re squeezing his cock so tight that Mingyu feels the need to ravage you, but he’d save that for another time.

He gradually picks up the pace, as he shifts his hips slightly, making his cock drive right into your sweet spot, making you arch your back and push your chest against him.

You moan loudly as your nails dig into his biceps, making Mingyu groan as your walls clench him.

“Gonna cum already, baby?” Mingyu smirks, breathing so heavily you can feel his hot breathe on your neck.

“Yeah…” You whine, nodding furiously. Your mind is far too clouded with the feeling of his cock inside you to put together any other words.

“Go on baby, come for me.” Mingyu grunts, his fingers moving to rub circles on your clit, making you whimper. “C’mon.”

Your legs shake as you come with a loud cry of his name, Mingyu keeps going until he’s coming too, slowly rolling his hips to fuck you through your high.

It’s amazing how quick his demeanor changes, he’s immediately peppering kisses gently on your face, his puppy-eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort.

“Was that okay?” He wonders. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, no,” You reassure him, and he’s relieved as you throw your arms over his shoulders to gently play with his hair. “That was amazing.”

He gently rolls you over so he can pull you on top of him, basking in the feeling of your weight on top of him.

“We should do that again…” You hint, your fingers toying with his necklace.

“Do you want to?” Mingyu chuckles. You already can’t get enough of him.

“Maybe,” You snuggle into his chest, sighing contentedly. “I kind of wanna stay like this for a while.”

tags!: @cosmojinyoung @wonuwrites @dearlyjun

[disneyprincemuke]

oscar's girl * ls2

logan never thought he would meet the girl that broke oscar’s heart

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!reader

word count: 4.2k

notes: guys ive been writing this since 10pm girl it's mf 4am now please sue me i'm sorry this was a long wind up im sorry but dont worry i will be writing a part two HELL YEAHHHH

(logan's girl) // |(f1 masterlist)

oscar and logan, logan and oscar. that's how it's been since they had run into each other during a karting weekend in the uk a couple of years ago. oscar had approached him with a toothy grin and a packet of candy after seeing logan walk around by himself for weekends at a time.

maintaining the friendship isn't the easiest of feats: logan lives in south florida, while oscar lives on the opposite side of the globe in melbourne. they don't see each other for very long, and very often in a year. but, it always feels like no time has passed when they get together after months of separation.

but being apart for the majority of the year means the window they've got to keep an ongoing conversation is small. but their string of texts has always come in consistently every day, responses from the other flooding in the early hours of the morning and sometimes in the dead of the night.

that was, until, logan woke up one warm thursday morning to an empty and dry phone. he brushed it off, taking it that oscar just had a long day at school. perhaps too much had happened in the day to simply text at the end of the day. so he went to school as he usually did with his best friend in the back of his mind.

but one day turned into two, and suddenly he hadn't heard from oscar in almost a week.

logan had sent one follow-up text. a simple 'hey' to nudge oscar into a response. which did help, because him and oscar surprisingly texted for a short thirty-minute window before the australian called it quits on their conversation to get some sleep for the next school day.

until oscar goes radio silent again for the next three days. so, he goes to the one other person in oscar's life that he knows personally.

"hey mum," logan starts, walking into the kitchen hesitantly. he's been dancing around the idea of asking his mum for help to see if oscar's even still alive and has not been replaced by some clone that's somehow less chatty than the one he said goodbye to at the airport four months ago.

"yeah, baby?" his mother stands up from her prior hunched-over position at the fridge to smile at him. she opens her arms as he approaches her hesitantly, fiddling with his thumbs. "what's wrong?"

he hums, second-guessing his decision to bring his mother into the situation. perhaps oscar just no longer wants to be friends with him anymore? but if that were the case, oscar definitely would have said something to his face and he's just been quiet. "um, it's just oscar," he starts softly, dropping his gaze to his feet, "can you ask his mum if he's alright?"

"of course," she smiles, letting go of him. she walks around the kitchen counter to find her phone. "why, did something happen to him recently? break another wrist?"

logan shakes his head, pressing his lips together. "no, we haven't been talking as much as we used to. i'm just worried that something might have happened to him."

a blush creeps up his cheeks when his mother's lips pout as she tries to hide her smile. "aw, logan! that's very cute of you. and very thoughtful," she teases as she starts to type on her phone. "i'm texting his mum right now. you hang tight and i'll tell you when she gets up to text me, okay?"

"okay."

he tries not to linger around his mum's circle of personal space for very long, afraid to let on that he's more concerned than he should be for the status of his friendship. to combat the anxiety of potentially losing one of his best friends, he locks himself in his room and plays video games all afternoon.

he had been in the middle of a game in call of duty when his phone started to ring. he glances at from his position on his bed and perks up with oscar's picture taking over the screen of his phone.

he immediately pauses the game, tossing the controller to the side of his bed. he slides his finger across the screen to pick up the call and oscar, visibly tired, pops up on his screen with a small smile.

"hey! my mum just got off the phone with your mum," oscar whispers with a smile. "said you missed me, mate?"

"no, i was just concerned cause you've been off the grid for a while," logan scoffs with an eye roll. "i never said i missed you."

"well, i'm sorry for disappearing on you, mate," oscar drops his gaze and a small smile creeps up on his face. in the dim orange lighting of his bedroom in melbourne, logan can almost make out the redness coming through on oscar's cheeks. "there's a reason for that. it's not because i don't wanna be friends anymore. i've just been a little... preoccupied."

logan tilts his head. he rolls over to his stomach and holds the phone up to his face. "what do you mean? more preoccupied than usual?"

"yeah," oscar giggles. "i uh... i've got-" he clears his throat, the slight embarrassment getting the better of him. he lifts his eyes from his thighs and moves the phone slightly further away. "i got a girlfriend."

logan furrows his eyebrows, throwing his head back slightly in shock. "what?"

"yeah," oscar repeats with a hint of a giggle in his response. "i've been seeing her for a while. do you mind if i tell you about her a little bit?"

"really?" logan smiles, squinting an eye. truthfully, he's finding it a little bit hard to believe that oscar's suddenly got a girlfriend. they're literally always on the phone with one another, texting and updating one another on things that they've got no idea about in their day-to-day lives.

not once has oscar come up to him about a girl before, much less developing a crush on somebody. "this is a bit sudden, isn't it? like, where did this girl come from?"

"she's new," oscar smiles. "so, do you wanna know about her or not?"

"alright, fire away, lover boy."

they talk - no, oscar talks - for the next hour about the girl that's recently enrolled into his private school. all logan can do is giggle and smile with oscar at how their relationship had gone down.

even after oscar has hung up, logan still doesn't really know much about the girl he's spent the better part of the past hour talking about. oscar simply refers to her as 'my girl'.

the next time oscar and logan reunite in the uk is at the end of the year. their mothers made an effort to get flights close to one another, letting them run into each other at the mcdonald's in the airport unknowingly while getting food before heading to the hotel.

"dude!" logan cheers, smacking oscar on the shoulder roughly.

"huh?" the smaller boy ahead of him looks up from his phone, turning his head to be greeted by a familiar pair of green eyes. he immediately locks his phone and slips it into his back pocket as realisation slowly dawns on him. "logan!"

"too busy texting on your phone to even notice i was behind you the entire time," logan scoffs jokingly as a hand comes up to pat him on the shoulder.

oscar presses his lips together as a blush creeps up on his cheeks. "sorry. i was texting my girl!"

"my girl this, my girl that," logan rolls his eyes with a smile. "did she not come along with you?"

"no, mate. she's off for a holiday with her family," oscar shrugs, biting down on his lip.

for the rest of the trip, logan will often catch Oscar cheesing at his phone. it doesn't matter when or where: they could be in their hotel room watching a movie, on the track waiting for the race to start, or while they're having a casual chat before they go to bed.

one question haunts logan for the rest of their stay in the uk: who is this girl?

though, it seems that logan is never destined to meet this girl that his best friend spent an entire year gushing about. because at three in the morning on a random saturday in may, his phone buzzes with oscar's picture taking over his entire screen again.

"we broke up."

logan would stay up all morning with oscar that day, letting oscar choke back on tears for the next thirty minutes about the girl that simply packed her bags and moved halfway across the world from him. they would never speak of this day again, even after they both relocated to the uk together to start their junior career.

oscar never speaks of the girl he once devoted his entire self to, but logan often finds himself thinking of her whereabouts and how their relationship had changed oscar.

oscar never uttered the phrase ‘my girl’ when he started dating his long-time girlfriend, lily zneimer. now that they’re in f1 together, logan has at least gotten to know this girlfriend.

he is very well aware that she exists: he’s talked to and touched lily. but the question still lingers in the back of his mind about the unnamed girl, even years later.

the thought of her pops up randomly in his mind as he approaches the paddocks for his sophomore year in the sport. that was prompted by the sight of oscar also making his way into the paddocks slightly ahead of him.

“mate, i heard you’ve got a special guest in your side of the garage today,” oscar teases, stepping away from logan as he reaches out to tap his card into the reader.

“what? who told you that?” logan scoffs, passing through the gantries as he throws his head back in disbelief. “ugh, alex needs to shut his trap. i bet he told lando then lando told you.”

“no, your mum told my mum,” oscar laughs. he nudges his friend with his shoulder. “why? are you shy?”

“piss off.” logan giggles as he drops his head, shaking his head as he bites back a smile. “i’ll see you later, mate.”

“oh, i’ll see you later alright. i’ve got to see who’s making you blush like that,” the australian giggles, shoving him in the direction of the williams racing home.

logan chases his shoulder, managing to land a soft smack before he completely walks away. sure, logan had been seeing somebody for a while, and this weekend was the one he had singled out for you to come out and watch his race.

you were scheduled to come in about thirty minutes for now, about twenty minutes before he is supposed to disappear from the garage for an interview panel.

and he’s excited. this is his first time having his personal guest, who isn’t his mother or brother, in his side of the garage. sure, getting halfsies of alex’s girlfriend from the garage next to him is still something, but it’s just not the same.

so, he tries to pass the next thirty minutes as well as he can. and he does everything: he terrorises his team in the garage, then james sitting his office, then alex in his driver’s room.

still ten minutes left on the clock.

kinda early, but i’m here! :)

logan almost jumps out of his skin at the notification that pops up along with your name. he swallows back the excited scream as he runs down the stairs, pushing himself past alex and his girlfriend who were gathered downstairs with james.

logan swings the glass doors open, slumping his shoulders and feeling a wave of happiness in his chest when he sees you standing shyly by the stairs.

you look very cozy: wrapped in a dark puffer jacket and your bag barely hanging onto your shoulder. he almost wants to disappear with you into his driver’s room and cuddle all day. to hell with his commitments, even if it means fighting off his pr officer.

“hey, you!” logan beams, perking up as he jogs down the few steps to where you were. “you should have texted me when you reached the paddocks. i could have picked you up.”

immediately, he bends down to take your bag into his hands and then he pulls you in for a warm hug. “thanks for making it out this weekend.”

“of course. how can i decline a chance to watch you in your element?” you smile, leaning back slightly and wrapping your arms around him. “thank you for reserving a pass for me.”

“absolutely!” logan cheers, pulling away. “let me bring you inside and introduce you to the team. you don’t mind, right?”

“it’s my pleasure,” you smile.

he puts a hand on your back as he guides you up the racing home, pushing the door open and beckons for you to walk in before him.

“ah, lily, you were right! it’s neither his brother nor his mum that’s making a special appearance this weekend!” alex booms from deep inside the hospitality, throwing his arms in the air. “mr american man got a girlfriend over the winter break?”

“shut up, mate,” logan scowls, moving his hand up to hold your shoulder protecticely. “but, yes. this is… my girlfriend.”

he shyly looks down at you, catching your eye as you glance up at him. you’ve only recently gotten into a relationship with logan; fresh, only six weeks into the title.

“oh, it’s so nice to meet you,” lily steps away from alex’s grasp and holds a hand out to you, “i’m lily. welcome to the paddocks.”

“hi, i’m (y/n). it's so nice to finally meet you,” you smile, taking her hand. “and alex! logan talks about you guys really often. i’m a big fan.”

“oh, logan talks about me,” alex teases in a laugh, also extending his hand out to you. “good things only, i hope.”

“hey, i told you not to tell him that,” logan says through his teeth, giving you a warning stare with wide eyes.

“it’s my first time meeting him, babe,” you laugh to logan, taking his hand in yours to shake.

"oh, can i tell you about logan's antics last year in the paddocks?" alex asks you excitedly, hopping one step toward you.

"or," lily laughs, wrapping her arms around her boyfriend to steer him away from you, "let's let her settle down with logan. you can terrorise her after the day has ended, alex."

"aw, but i've got lists of embarrassing things about him," alex sighs with a frown, though he lets lily guide him away from the new couple. he cranes his neck and grins at you. "i will see you later! i'll prepare a list!"

"so we're avoiding him later," logan smiles at you, now guiding you towards the steps that would lead you to some privacy. "have you run into anyone yet? have you seen liam yet?"

you shake your head. "not yet. but i hope you'll bring me to him so that i can get to say hi? i haven't seen him since we bumped into them at disneyland in december."

"yeah, i know. he's been asking about you." he opens the door to his driver's room to let you in. "so, i've got to run for a bit. i've got an interview panel. it really shouldn't take too long. i'm sorry."

"sorry? what are you sorry for?" you giggle, taking a seat in the corner of the room. your eyes scan the small room, taking note of the endless shirts riddled with williams' logo hung in the corner.

"i don't wanna just leave you here by yourself," logan slumps his shoulders with a frown, resting his hands on his knees as he bends over to meet your eyes. "i feel bad."

"oh, i'll be okay." you wave off his concern and lean in, pressing a chase kiss to his lips. "just text me when you're done. i'll go downstairs and find lily and get to know her better."

"that's a good idea! you guys should really go around the paddocks. there's a concert somewhere too, make the best out of my pass, okay?" logan smiles, his hand cupping your chin. he brushes his thumb over your cheek as he towers over you. "text me if you get lost."

"i won't get lost," you smile, standing up from the seat. "i actually haven't had my coffee yet. do you know anywhere i can get a cup of coffee?"

"oh, lily should know where," logan hums, tapping his bottom lip as he heads for his door. "let me get her for you."

"logan." the firmness in your voice stops logan in his tracks, turning around with curious eyes. "i can find lily on my own. i'll be okay - i'll see you later."

"are you sure? i just feel bad that i'll leave you all by yourself," logan whispers, leaning in to kiss your cheek. "i'll miss you."

"i'll miss you too. but you've got a job to do," you giggle, walking out of his room with your hands wrapped around his arm. "i won't disappear. i'll meet you wherever when you're done. just text me."

"fine."

so logan goes and does his media commitments with alex in tow. and lily clearly had the same idea as you, meeting you at the front doors as alex walked away with logan.

"logan mentioned you were looking for coffee?" lily beams, quickly finding herself by your side as she leads you around the paddocks. "i know the best racing home to get a good cup of, but we might have to sneak in."

"sneak in?" you tilt your head. "is that even allowed?"

"yeah, carmen will get us in! mercedes has got the best cup of coffee to offer around here," lily giggles. "and, you should meet the rest of the girls. what are you going to do for the rest of the evening while the boys are out doing their jobs?"

"i suppose you're right," you shrug with a small smile. "but it's my first time here. should i really be caught sneaking into another team's home?"

"ah, you're with me," lily smiles. "i've got you."

so you actually get your cup of coffee in the back of the mercedes' racing home, now finding yourself huddled together with carmen and lily. they had asked you how you had come to meet logan, especially after the driver had spent most of it behind closed doors and rarely showed himself to the cameras.

it was a pretty simple story. you had been on vacation in new york with a group of your friends, minding your business in the corner of a crowded bar. truthfully, you didn't even want to be there, but it was your best friend's birthday trip. you couldn't say no even if you insisted.

logan had caught sight of you pretending to drink shots your friends were handing you towards the end of the night. eventually, you wound up with about six filled shot glasses hiding behind you, desperately hidden from your friend's prying eyes.

he thought it was funny, and had offered to finish them for you. in exchange for a promise that they were not laced with poison.

you had hit it off, and logan asked you out on a date. while you were unfortunately flying off to another state in a week, he had taken up the challenge and took you out on a date the very next night in the heart of new york city.

the rest is history, as they say.

"does logan actually ever say no to free alcohol?" carmen jokes, blowing into her cup of hot coffee. "wait! there's a concert happening not too far from here. do you guys know who's performing?"

"it should be on the race's instagram page," lily sighs, swiftly taking her phone out of her pocket. "but aren't the guys finishing up their interviews by now?"

"it's a long weekend. would they really notice if we weren't here for one break that they have?" carmen points out knowingly with a smile. "and we've got to show her," carmen gestures towards you, "around. is this your first race weekend?"

you nod shyly, taking a sip from your coffee. "but it's okay, really! don't go out of the way for me."

"that's silly." lily runs a hand through her hair and sighs, resting a hand on her hip. "okay, so, let's meet the guys near the pit building. when they're called in for their driver's briefing, we make a run for the concert area, okay?"

"that sounds like a much better compromise." carmen turns to you with a playful smile. "we will teach you how to make the most out of logan's race pass. you're going to have so much fun with us."

"after the concert, we'll head upstairs to the viewing pen and get a couple of drinks," lily smiles. she glances down at her phone. "oh, seems like they're already done. you guys wanna head there together?"

"sure!"

you start backpedalling from your position, ready to follow the two veteran paddock enjoyers. that seemed like a good idea until your back collides with something - someone - and suddenly you've got mildly hot coffee all over your top.

this is the one time you regret unzipping your jacket to let a bit of the cold in.

"i'm so sorry."

"it's fine," you say with a soft whine, turning around before being flashed by a bright orange jacket and a pair of brown eyes. "it's..." you tilt your head. "do i know you from somewhere?"

the shape of his polite smile and the way his brown eyes look into you are all very familiar. but you just can't quite place a finger on it.

perhaps it's because he looks a lot different from the last time you saw him. you were a wee fourteen-year-old the last time you had seen him before you were forced to pack your bags and move away because of your dad's job.

but, as a kid, you generally did a lot of moving around because of that said job. now you're just trying to single him out by geographic location from the many friends you've made and lost contact with over the years.

"(y/n)?" oscar's eyebrows shoot up, your name coated thickly with an australian accent as his hand lingers on your shoulder.

"oh, you two know each other?" lily excitedly asks, looking between the two younger individuals.

who seem to be very caught up in their unexpected reunion. you'd be shocked too if the girl you had thought was the love of your life shows up at your big boy job with your colleagues' girlfriends with a mercerdes coffee cup in hand.

"yeah, we uh," oscar takes a step away from you and puts his hands in the pockets of his team jacket, "we used to go to school together. in melbourne."

"right," you sigh in relief, finally being able to place him in a particular timeline of your life. you finally remember him: oscar piastri, the school heartthrob with a charming smile and friendly eyes. he had even asked you to be his girlfriend at some point, dating for the better part of a year before you had to leave melbourne with your family. "oscar, right? i'm sorry, my memory's a little bit hazy."

"no, yeah," oscar agrees, scanning you head to toe. "it's been... how long has it been since we last saw each other?"

"very long. it's been years since i left melbourne." you lower your cup and readjust your jacket, trying to hide the prominent wet patch of coffee at the collar of your inner shirt.

but the longer you stare at him, the more the memories come rushing back to the time you spent with the best friend you had made in melbourne for those years. you can vividly remember oscar picking you out in pe to be his teammate, sneaking out of homeroom to grab a juice pack together right down the hall.

you had completely forgotten the tears you shed that day you had to leave melbourne. you swore that you would keep in contact with the warmest brown eyes your eyes have ever seen, but you had simply gotten too busy settling into the new environment that had been thrown at you.

before you knew it, you had dropped your phone into the lake when you were out with your friends and you lost oscar's phone number. you never found a way to reconnect with him, and eventually, he had joined the long list of friends that you had forgotten about.

"i," oscar laughs, "what are you doing here in the paddocks? are you friends with them?"

"no," you straighten your back with a polite smile, "i'm with somebody - logan."

and oscar's never wanted to ever tear apart the paddocks' walls with his own hands before. what do you mean his girl is here with his best friend?

[littlelamy]

Could you write one where the pogue!reader is a super famous horror actress and she’s on break visiting her long time husband (since they were little kids) Rafe and just relaxing in the Obx

hope you like it! ⭐️ after months of relentless filming, you were finally back home. the plane had touched down at sunset, and you breathed in the familiar scent of salt and pine that filled the outer banks air. the soft golden light washed over the sprawling marshlands, casting long shadows that made everything look just a bit more haunted—a fitting setting for a horror actress on break. but for once, you could set aside the haunted characters and the makeup blood. for now, you were just you, finally stepping back into the arms of your long-time love, rafe cameron.

rafe met you at the airport, his easy smile lighting up the way it always had. despite the ups and downs that your job brought, he was always there, waiting to ground you. his arms wrapped around you the second you reached him, his hand finding the back of your neck as he whispered, "finally got my horror queen back."

you laughed, squeezing him tighter, the familiar warmth of him chasing away the chill you hadn’t realized had settled in your bones.

"missed you too, baby."

the days that followed were blissfully uneventful. you’d wake up late, wrapped up in soft sheets and in rafe’s arms, with the sounds of the ocean outside the window. you’d spend mornings sipping coffee on the dock, letting the sun warm your skin while rafe flipped through the local paper, occasionally nudging you with the latest town gossip. it was surreal how easily you slipped back into this life, far from the chaos of your hollywood career.

one afternoon, as the two of you strolled along the beach, rafe turned to you, a smirk playing at his lips. “so, they’re still calling you ‘scream queen,’ right?”

you rolled your eyes, nudging him. “it’s a thing, okay? people love horror.”

“oh, i know,” he teased, arching an eyebrow. “but i don’t get it. the movies… they’re fake. not scary at all.”

you stopped in your tracks, crossing your arms as you gave him an exaggerated glare. “says the guy who jumped when i showed him that clown mask.”

rafe laughed, throwing his arm over your shoulder and pulling you close. “yeah, yeah. don’t spread that around.”

you grinned, letting him steer you down the shoreline. it was in these moments—where he poked fun, where you could laugh until your sides hurt, where the world felt like it was just the two of you against everything else—that you knew exactly why you’d loved him for so long.

that night, after a quiet dinner on the porch of tannyhill, rafe pulled you into his lap, his hand tracing lazy circles on your back. the air was still, filled with the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the waves. you rested your head on his shoulder, savoring the tranquility, aware that your break would be over soon. the quiet of the outer banks would be replaced with lights and cameras and the chill of on-set fog machines.

but tonight, you had him, and he had you. no costumes, no makeup, just the two of you, as you’d been since you were kids. the simplicity of it all felt like a balm, a reminder of who you were beneath the characters and the fame. and as you dozed off in his arms, you knew that no matter where your career took you, you’d always find your way back to this place—back to him.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01

[meazalykov]

the call

lena oberdorf x bayern!reader

summary: the best day of your life turns into the worst

warnings: made up champions league results, angst, mentions of suicide!!!, death, mentions of depression, sibling loss, grief, ends with acceptance, this is fictional but please be warned before reading.

the roar of the stadium is deafening, the energy screaming through your entire body as the champions league final reaches its climax. 

the evening lights above you are blinding, but you barely notice them. you barely notice anything except the ball at your feet and the defenders swarming in. your heart pounds, and your legs burn from the intensity of the game, but you’ve never felt more alive.

this is the moment you’ve dreamed of since you first laced up a pair of cleats. the moment that feels almost surreal, like you’re floating above the pitch, watching it all unfold.

bayern is facing chelsea in lisbon, and it’s been a grueling ninety minutes, plus extra time. 2-2 on the scoreboard, with only seconds left. 

the final, the biggest game of your life, and everything rests on this moment.

your mind races. the game is balanced on a knife's edge, and you know that one moment could change everything. one goal could make or break your dream of lifting the trophy. 

you’ve won the champions league before with lyon, but that was during a loan season you had with your last club. now, you hope to win the champions league with the club that has become your life. it gave you your love for football back, and it gave you the love of your life— lena. 

you glance toward the sideline, where lena is warming up, ready to come on. she’s been out for months—acl and mcl surgery had taken her off the field for nearly a year, but she’s back. 

today is only her second game since her return, and she’s been waiting for her moment again after getting the olympics taken away from her last summer..

the fourth official holds up the board for stoppage time as lena’s number flashes to replace pernille. 

she jogs onto the pitch, subbed in for the last few minutes of the match, and despite everything, your heart skips a beat seeing her out there. she’s worked so hard to get here, and you’ve been by her side through all of it. 

“let’s go,” she says as she passes you on the pitch, her voice filled with determination as she oats your shoulder. you nod, giving her a quick glance, the silent understanding between you both unspoken but clear.

the clock ticks into the 90th minute. chelsea pushes forward, looking for the winner, but bayern’s defense holds strong. you can feel the weight of the match pressing down on you as every second passes, the noise of the crowd swirling around you. 

it’s chaos, and yet somehow, amidst it all, there’s clarity.

two minutes later, the ball is cleared out of the bayern box, and it falls to lena just outside the center circle. she controls it beautifully, despite the pressure, her eyes scanning the field. you see her look up, searching for you, and you know what’s coming. you sprint forward, weaving between chelsea defenders, creating the space you need.

your german girlfriend passes the ball up to you, her pass perfectly timed, splitting chelsea’s defense wide open. it’s as if time slows down, the noise of the crowd fading away until all you can hear is your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. you know exactly what you need to do. 

this is instinct, muscle memory, all those hours of practice boiling down to a single strike.

with a quick glance at the goal, you see the opening. the chelsea keeper has shifted just slightly to her left, leaving a narrow space at the top right corner. without hesitation, you take the shot.

the ball leaves your foot with precision, spinning just right, and everything speeds up again. the roar of the crowd comes crashing back as the ball sails past the keeper’s outstretched fingers and buries itself in the back of the net.

goal!

for a moment, you’re frozen, unable to process what you’ve just done. then it hits you all at once. you’ve scored. in the champions league final. in the 92nd minute.

your teammates swarm you in seconds after you sprint to the corner of the pitch. you didn’t care about the yellow card you’re receiving by taking off your bayern jersey in celebration, something similar to what alexia putellas did in the last champions league final. 

your teammates arms pull you into a tight embrace as you drop to your knees, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions. 

joy, relief, disbelief—all of it crashes over you like a tidal wave. lena’s the first to reach you, her arms wrapping around you tightly, lifting you off the ground as she spins you around, her laughter mixing with yours.

“you fucking did it!” she shouts over the deafening noise of the crowd, her grin wide as she pulls back to look at you. her eyes are shining with pride and love, and for a brief moment, everything in the world is perfect.

you barely hear the final whistle over the chaos, but you feel it—the way your teammates explode with joy, the way the fans in the stands scream and chant your name. 

bayern is champions. you’ve done it. you’ve helped your team lift the most prestigious trophy in european football.

as the confetti rains down, you stand in the center of it all, your heart still racing, trying to soak in every second of the celebration. your teammates are all around you, cheering, hugging, lifting the trophy.

your eyes scan the crowd, searching for something—or rather, someone.

your family.

you’d hoped—against all odds—that maybe, somehow, they’d made it. you’d imagined seeing their faces in the stands, cheering you on, sharing in this once-in-a-lifetime moment. but as your eyes search the sea of faces, there’s no one familiar. 

no one from home.

you knew it was a long shot. they’re back in america, living their lives. it’s a long flight, and they’d have to take time off work, rearrange everything just to be here. but still, a part of you had hoped they would come. had hoped they’d make this a priority.

the ache in your chest grows as you realize they didn’t. they didn’t come.

you try to push the disappointment away, focusing on the celebrations, on the fact that you’ve just won the champions league. this should be the happiest moment of your life. you should be on top of the world. 

there’s a small, nagging emptiness that you can’t shake. the one thing you wanted, more than anything else, was to see your family here, in the stands, sharing this with you.

you take a deep breath, plastering a smile on your face as you turn back to the celebrations. you’ll deal with this later. you’ll process it when the confetti’s gone and the lights are dim.

lena’s family, though, is here. her parents, her siblings—they’ve made the trip, and they’re in the stands now, cheering and waving, just as excited as the bayern fans. as you make your way over to them, lena beside you, her hand warm in yours, her family’s faces light up. her mom is the first to reach out, pulling you into a tight hug.

“y/n! oh my god, you were amazing!” her mom gushes, her arms squeezing you so tight you almost can’t breathe.

“thank you,” you manage, smiling as you hug her back. 

“i’m just so glad we won!”

“we’re so proud of you,” her dad says, clapping you on the shoulder with a grin. 

“that goal—you had us on the edge of our seats!”

“you’re like a third daughter to me,” her mom continues, pulling back to look at you, her eyes warm. 

“we love you, and we couldn’t be prouder.”

you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat as their words sink in. they mean it. they really do. you’re part of their family, and in this moment, they’ve made you feel like you belong here. 

no matter how much love they show you, no matter how much they treat you as one of their own, the absence of your own family still lingers like a shadow over the night.

“thank you,” you say again, your voice a little quieter this time.

you stay with them for a while longer, lena’s arm around your waist, her thumb tracing soft circles on your hip. she knows. she always knows when something’s bothering you, even if you don’t say it. 

for now, she lets you have your moment with her family, understanding that you need this, that you need to feel like you belong somewhere tonight.

eventually, the celebrations wind down, and the exhaustion of the day starts to settle into your bones. the adrenaline begins to fade, leaving you drained, physically and emotionally. all you want is to get back to the hotel with lena, collapse into bed, and let the day finally sink in.

“ready to go?” lena asks, her hand still in yours as you both start making your way toward the exit.

“yeah,” you sigh, glancing around one last time at the stadium. 

“let’s go.”

just as you reach the lobby, your coach approaches you, his face serious in a way that immediately sets off alarm bells in your mind.

“y/n,” he says quietly, his tone careful, like he’s trying to brace you for something. 

“can i talk to you for a minute?”

you glance at lena, confusion and concern flashing across her face as she looks back at you. you nod at her, squeezing her hand before letting go. 

“i’ll be right back,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

you’re nervous. you scored the goal needed to win the champions league final. was alex going to tell you that you made a mistake? was he going to tell you that bayern isn’t renewing their contract with you? you know that's not possible, you already agreed to a three year extension. 

following your coach to a quiet corner of the lobby, your heart starts to race again. this time, it’s not from the excitement of the game. something’s wrong. you can feel it.

“what’s going on?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

he hesitates for a moment, his eyes searching yours before he finally speaks.

“there’s been an emergency,” he says, his voice low, almost apologetic. “back home with your family.”

your stomach drops. the room feels like it’s closing in around you, the air suddenly too thick to breathe.

“what kind of emergency?” you ask, your voice shaking now.

he pauses again, and you know—before he even says the words—you know.

“it’s your younger sister,” he says softly. 

“according to your agent– she… she passed away.”

you feel like the floor has dropped out from under you. everything around you blurs, the world spinning as your brain struggles to process the words. your sister. passed away.

“no,” you whisper, shaking your head as if that will make it untrue. 

“no, that can’t be right.”

“i’m so sorry, y/n,” your coach says, his voice heavy with sorrow. 

“i have to tell you before you find out from anyone else by following bayern’s protocol– your sister passed away from suicide.”

the word hits you like a physical blow, knocking the breath from your lungs. you can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything except stand there, frozen in place as the reality of what he’s just said crashes over you.

suicide.

your sister is gone.

“no…” the word leaves your lips in a broken sob as you crumble, your legs giving out beneath you. your coach catches you, helping you to sit on a nearby bench, but you barely feel his hands on your shoulders. you barely feel anything at all.

how can this be real? how can she be gone?

you don’t know how long you sit there, numb, before lena is suddenly by your side, her arms wrapping around you, her voice soft in your ear.

“oh my god, y/n,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. 

“i’m so sorry, baby. i’m so, so sorry.”

you cling to her, your tears soaking into her shirt as the sobs wrack your body. your mind is spinning, grief and disbelief tearing through you like a storm.

your mind didn’t allow you to deny it. your younger sister suffered from depression for a long time.

the weight of your coach’s words crashes down on you like a wave, pulling you under, suffocating you. your younger sister, gone. the word “suicide” echoes in your mind, each syllable like a knife cutting deeper and deeper into your chest. 

your entire body feels numb, but your heart is racing, your mind spinning out of control as you try to grasp the reality of what you’ve just been told.

lena’s arms wrap around you, holding you tightly as you break down, but even her warmth can’t reach the depth of the hollow ache that’s taken over your chest. it’s all too much. the best night of your life—scoring the equalizer in the champions league final—has been shattered into the worst nightmare you could have ever imagined.

your sister. your baby sister.

“no,” you whisper, the word barely audible as the sobs start to break through your chest. 

“this can’t be real. this can’t be happening.”

lena doesn’t say anything, her hand running through your hair, holding you as you crumble into her. 

“i’m so sorry,” she whispers softly, her voice breaking.

“i have to go home,” you choke out between sobs, the words thick in your throat. 

“i need to go home. i have to… i have to be with my family.”

“i’m coming with you,” lena says, her voice firm but gentle.

“no,” you protest, shaking your head weakly. 

“you need to stay. this is your career, you’re coming back from nearly a year long injury, i can handle this on my own.”

you don’t even believe yourself. you don’t know how you’re going to handle this, how you’ll survive the tidal wave of grief that’s already threatening to drown you. still, you try to fight it, the guilt in your chest whispering that you don’t deserve her support right now.

“y/n,” lena says, cupping your face in her hands, forcing you to meet her gaze. her eyes are red with unshed tears, but there’s a fierce determination in them. 

“you’re not going through this alone. i’m coming with you. end of discussion.”

you want to argue, but you can’t. the grief is too heavy, the shock too deep. you nod, collapsing back into her embrace, because you don’t have the strength to push her away.

the next few days blur together. the long, silent flight back to america, the weight of every message from your family, the funeral plans, the condolences pouring in from people who don’t know the depth of your pain. nothing makes sense. 

it’s as if the world has stopped spinning, and you’re left standing in the wreckage, trying to make sense of it all.

when you finally arrive at your family home, your older sister is the one waiting for you. the moment you see her, the dam inside you breaks all over again. her face is pale, her eyes hollow, and you can see the weight of grief on her shoulders, but there’s something more there—something you don’t want to acknowledge yet.

“y/n,” she whispers as she pulls you into a tight embrace, her body shaking against yours. 

“god, i’m so sorry you had to find out the way that you did.”

“what happened?” you ask, your voice cracking as you pull back to look at her. you haven’t been able to bring yourself to ask this yet—too scared of the answers. but now, standing in front of her, you need to know.

being the middle child, you had your older sister to lean onto. your brain doesn’t want to believe that its just the two of you now, not three.

your older sister hesitates, her eyes filling with tears as she struggles to find the words. she swallows hard, and you can tell she’s been trying to hold it together for everyone else, but now, in front of you, she’s breaking.

“i found her,” she says softly, her voice trembling. 

“i was the one who found her, y/n.”

the words hit you like a freight train, your legs almost giving out beneath you. your older sister. the one who always tried to protect you both. she was the one who walked into that room. you can’t even imagine the horror of it, the moment she saw your baby sister like that.

“how?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper, though you’re not sure you really want to hear the answer.

your sister takes a deep, shaky breath. 

“she… she poisoned herself in her bedroom. the bottles were everywhere. i-i was supposed to meet her for lunch. when she didn’t answer, i went over, and…”

her voice cracks, and the sobs finally break through. you reach out to her, but your hands are shaking so much that you don’t know if you’re comforting her or yourself. the guilt presses down on your chest like a thousand-pound weight, suffocating you.

“we didn’t know she was hurting like this,” your sister continues, her voice thick with tears. 

“we thought she was getting better. she didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want us to worry. but, y/n… the note said it because of soccer– because of her injury.”

her words stop you cold. “soccer?”

your sister nods, tears streaming down her face. 

“she couldn’t make it. she didn’t get the contracts due to her spine. she thought she wasn’t good enough. she thought she was a failure.”

the guilt hits you harder than anything you’ve ever felt before, crushing you under its weight. you suddenly felt like your success, your career—everything you’ve worked for—had been killing her. 

you were living her dream, and it had destroyed her. the very thing that had made your life complete had shattered hers.

“this is my fault,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out. 

“i should have known. i should have… i should have been there.”

“no,” your sister says quickly, shaking her head, her hands gripping your arms. 

“it’s not your fault, y/n. you couldn’t have known.”

you can’t hear her. you can’t hear anything over the roar of guilt and grief pounding in your ears. your baby sister had been suffering, and you hadn’t seen it. she had felt like she wasn’t enough, like she was a failure because she didn’t make it in soccer, and you had been too focused on your own career to notice her pain.

“she told me once,” your sister continues, her voice trembling, 

“that she wished she could be as good as you. that she wished she could make it, too. she didn’t blame you once, y/n. she was just struggling. she didn’t want to burden anyone with how bad it had gotten.”

the words twist the knife in your chest. you should have noticed. you should have known. how could you have missed it? how could you have let her feel so alone in her pain?

“i was too focused on myself,” you whisper, the tears spilling down your cheeks as the realization crashes over you. 

“i was too focused on my career, on making it, and i didn’t see that she needed me while I moved to france then germany. i didn’t see how much she was hurting.”

“y/n, stop,” your sister says, her voice desperate as she pulls you into another hug. 

“you can’t blame yourself. this isn’t your fault.”

you do. how can you not? you were the one living her dream. you were the one playing at the top, while she struggled to find her place after injuring her spine. how can you not feel like you were the reason she’s gone?

the funeral feels like a blur. you stand by your sister’s grave, lena at your side, her hand gripping yours tightly as they lower the casket into the ground.

this was final. her death was final. there she will lay until the end of time.

the sobs choke you, but no matter how many tears you shed, it doesn’t feel like it will ever be enough to ease the guilt gnawing away at you.

“i should’ve been there for her,” you whisper to lena, your voice barely audible as you stare at the grave. 

“i should’ve seen the signs.”

lena wraps her arms around you, pulling you into her warmth, but even that can’t break through the storm of grief. 

“you couldn’t have known, y/n. she didn’t let anyone in.”

“i was supposed to protect her,” you say, your voice cracking as the tears spill down your face again. 

“i was her big sister. she looked up to me, and i wasn’t there when she needed me.”

lena holds you tighter, her voice soft in your ear. 

“you can’t carry that weight, love. you didn’t know.”

you do carry it. the guilt settles deep in your bones, a constant reminder that while you were out there living your dream, your sister was suffering in silence. the pain of it tears through you like a storm, and no matter how many people tell you it’s not your fault, you can’t shake the feeling that you should’ve done more.

three months after the funeral, the international break comes sooner than you expected. after a tough preseason and the emotional turmoil of the past few months, you’re finally called up to represent your country again, this time in the united states. 

lena, too, gets the call for germany, her first time back with the national team since her acl and mcl injuries. it’s a bittersweet feeling—being away from her after spending all that time together, healing both physically and emotionally. 

your girlfriend might have the chance to play in the 2025 euros, and you're so proud of her. honestly, you hope that you'll be able to watch her play and reach the final again-- this time winning.

you know how important this is for her. she needs this. she needs her space to shine again, to remind herself that she’s still capable of greatness.

"i’ll miss you, but you need this,” you tell her before leaving, cupping her face in your hands. 

"just take care of that knee, okay?"

lena smiles, her hand gently covering yours. 

“i will. and you better score some goals while i’m gone.”

you both laugh, though there’s a tinge of sadness underneath. as much as you’ve leaned on her through your grief, you’re learning to stand on your own again. so, you board the plane to the states, knowing this break will be good for both of you.

it’s strange, being back in america. the last time you were here, it was for your sister’s funeral. this time, it’s different. this time, you’re playing for something—something that feels bigger than you. 

your heart pounds as you step onto the miami pitch for the match against australia, the lights of the stadium casting long shadows over the grass. 

you can feel the weight of your sister’s absence, but in a way, it also feels like she’s there with you, watching from somewhere far beyond. well, if you believe in that of course.

the match against australia is high-energy, with the crowd cheering from the first whistle. you’ve been waiting for this moment—an opportunity to step onto the field again, to do what you love.

today, there’s something different about the way you play. today, every step, every touch of the ball is charged with emotion, with memories of your sister.

in some ways, you're playing more aggressively than usual. this might be a way for you to physically take some of the pain away.

your passes are sharp and harsh, but not sloppy. in fact, they're accurate and perfect. a 100% pass rate on the charts.

early in the first half, the game is still scoreless. you’re playing in the midfield, controlling the pace, looking for openings.

in the 20th minute, you spot one—a quick exchange with mallory and suddenly you’re in space. you sprint down the left side, cutting inside to avoid australia’s defenders. 

the ball comes back to your feet just outside the box. without hesitating, you take a powerful shot before ellie had the chance to stop you. the ball curls past the keeper into the top right corner of the net.

it’s a beautiful strike, clean and precise. the crowd erupts, you feel the rush of exhilaration, but your mind is elsewhere.

you raise both your hands as you reach the corner of the pitch, pointing to the sky. your other hand goes to your ear, like you’re holding a phone, like you’re calling her. 

you hope she’s listening. the gesture is for your sister, the first goal of the game dedicated to her.

the tears in your eyes wanted to fall, but they didn't. your teammates surrounded you in hugs and you took that moment to wipe your eyes from the public as your friends gave you praises.

everyone knew about your sister's death. people who went to your sister's college and witnessed the spinal injury that led to her downfall were hurt by the news.

the whole community was grieving, and everyone wanted to find peace with it.

as the match goes on, you feel that familiar rhythm settle in. by the second half, your team is up 1-0, but you’re still hungry for more. 

in the 58th minute, the opportunity comes again. you’re in the box this time, just off a corner kick. the ball is bouncing around in the chaos, defenders scrambling to clear it, but it lands at your feet. with a quick flick, you volley it toward the goal. the keeper dives, but it’s too late—the ball slips under her arm and into the net. your second goal of the match.

you look at sam coffey-- the closest teammate to you. you hug her and the rest of the teammates who run up to you, happy to see you thriving in such a hard time.

after everyone goes back to their positions, breaking the group hug, you look at the cameras and hold up the number six. one finger on your left hand and all five fingers with your right hand.

your younger sister’s number before she was forced to stop playing. 

the fans noticed that every goal is for her, for your sister who can’t be here to see you play. you hope she’s watching. you hope she knows how much you miss her.

the third goal comes in the 85th minute. you’re tired now, the heat of the match wearing you down, but you push through, determined to finish strong.

emma asked if you needed a break from the pitch, but you tell her no. you needed this. 

the ball comes to you on a fast break, your team surging forward after a clearance. you sprint down the center, your heart pounding in your chest, the crowd’s roar fueling you. just as you reach the edge of the box, you receive a perfect pass from emily. you take one touch, then another, before sliding the ball past the onrushing keeper and into the bottom left corner.

hat trick.

the stadium erupts, your teammates rush toward you, but once again, your celebration is quiet. 

you point to the sky, your hand pressed to your ear like you’re making that call again, the one you’ll never get to make.

your sister should be here. she should be watching this-- no.. she should be playing with you now, living this with you.

instead, all you have are these moments, these gestures that feel like whispers into the void.

after the game, when the final whistle blows and your team celebrates the 3-0 victory over australia, you’re pulled aside for an interview. 

the camera’s on you, the reporter asking about your performance, about your goals, and for the first time, you decide to speak openly about your sister.

“i’ve been playing with her on my mind,” you say, your voice steady but heavy with emotion. 

“my sister… she loved football more than anyone i’ve ever known. she was determined, sweet, and had the best sense of humor. she made everyone laugh. i’ve been playing for her, trying to honor her in any way i can.”

you don’t cry during the interview, but your chest aches. it’s clear to anyone watching how deeply you miss her, how much you wish she could be here. the reporter doesn’t press for more, understanding the weight of what you’ve shared, and you’re grateful for that. 

it feels like a release, finally speaking her name, telling the world what she meant to you.

later that night, back at the hotel, your phone rings. it’s lena. she’s calling from germany, where it’s 5:30 a.m. while it’s only 11:30 p.m. for you in the states. you know she’s probably exhausted after germany’s game against norway, but you answer, grateful to hear her voice.

“hey,” lena says, her voice soft, tired but filled with warmth. 

“i saw your game. a hat trick, huh?”

you smile, leaning back against the pillows. “yeah. it felt good. i… i dedicated them to her. i talked about her in the interview.”

there’s a pause on the other end, and you can hear lena’s breathing, steady and comforting. 

“i’m so proud of you, y/n. i know she would be too.”

“i think so,” you say quietly, your chest tight with emotion. 

“i’m okay, lena. i feel okay.”

you can hear the relief in her voice when she replies, 

“i’m glad. i wish i could be there with you.”

“soon,” you whisper, closing your eyes. 

“we’ll be together soon.”

after the international break, you return to germany, ready to play for bayern once again. something feels different now. there’s still grief, still moments when the weight of your sister’s absence threatens to pull you under, but there’s also a sense of peace. 

acceptance. 

you’re learning to live with the loss, to carry her memory with you in a way that feels lighter, more bearable.

when you return to germany, stepping off the plane and feeling the familiar chill of the air, you can sense that something inside you has shifted. it’s subtle, not a sudden transformation, but a quiet understanding that the weight you’ve been carrying has begun to ease. 

you still miss your sister. you will always miss her. 

after the international break, after scoring that hat trick and speaking about her for the first time publicly, there’s a sense of release, a small spark of acceptance beginning to form.

it doesn’t come all at once. when you arrive back at bayern’s training ground, the routine feels both comforting and daunting. the familiar faces of your teammates greet you, their smiles and hugs filled with warmth. some of them had seen your interview after the australia game. they know what you’ve been going through, at least on some level. 

they don’t push you to talk, but their quiet support is always there, whether it’s in a gentle hand on your back after a tough drill or a knowing glance across the field.

training is tough—intense, even. the season is approaching fast, and the pressure to perform is ever-present. but for the first time in a long while, you feel more connected to the game, more present in your body, and less haunted by the thoughts that used to cloud your every move on the pitch. 

you start to find joy in playing again, not just as an escape, but as a way to honor your sister. every pass, every shot, every tackle feels like a small tribute to her, a way of keeping her close without letting the grief consume you.

there are still hard days. days when you wake up and the weight of her absence presses down on you before you even step out of bed. you think about how much she loved football, how it was her dream to be where you are now, and that familiar guilt creeps back in. 

lena is there, always grounding you, reminding you that your sister would want you to keep going, to keep playing, to live the life she couldn’t.

on one of those hard days, you’re at the training ground, going through drills, and your mind wanders. you think about her injury—how it wasn’t just a setback but the end of her dream. a spinal injury, something so unexpected, so final. 

she never had a chance to recover, never had a chance to fight for her place like you’ve been able to. she was so young, 19 years old– and it was taken from her, just like that. and then, when the depression set in, it wasn’t just the injury anymore—it was the loss of everything she had ever wanted. 

the loss of her future.

you push through the drills, the sweat dripping down your face as you try to focus on the here and now. it’s hard. your thoughts are swirling, and you can feel the familiar tightness in your chest, the way grief sneaks up on you when you least expect it.

after training, you sit alone on the bench, staring out at the pitch, lost in thought. the sun is setting, casting long shadows across the field, and for a moment, you let yourself sit with the grief. 

you don’t push it away this time. you let it wash over you, feeling the sadness, the guilt, the love you had for your sister. but there’s something else there too—a quiet acceptance. a small voice inside you that whispers, “she’s not suffering anymore.”

it’s that thought that brings you peace, however fleeting. you know your sister struggled, that her depression was a battle she couldn’t win. as much as you wish you could’ve done more, could’ve been there for her in ways you weren’t, you also know that her pain is over now. 

she’s at peace, even if you’re still finding your way through the aftermath.

lena finds you on the bench later that evening, after most of the team has left. she sits beside you without saying anything for a long time, just her presence beside you, solid and comforting. eventually, she speaks, her voice soft in the quiet of the evening.

“you’ve been different since the break,” she says, her eyes watching the last bit of daylight disappear behind the trees. 

“stronger, in a way.”

you nod, not sure how to put everything into words. “i think… i think i’m starting to accept it,” you say, your voice quiet but steady. 

“i’m never going to stop missing her, but i can’t let it break me anymore. she wouldn’t want that.”

lena reaches for your hand, her fingers lacing with yours. 

“no, she wouldn’t. she’d want you to live, y/n. to play. to be happy.”

the next few weeks pass in a blur of preparation for the season. as the first matches approach, you throw yourself into your training, focusing on your fitness, your sharpness, everything you need to be at your best. 

as the days go by, you start to feel more like yourself again. not the version of you before your sister’s death—that person is gone, changed by the grief and loss—but a new version of yourself. 

someone who carries the weight of that loss but also the strength that comes with surviving it.

before the season opener, you have a moment alone in the locker room, lacing up your boots and staring down at the bayern crest on your jersey. the nerves are there, the familiar pre-game tension, but there’s something else too—a quiet determination. 

this season is going to be different. not because you’re trying to outrun your grief, but because you’re choosing to carry it with you, to let it fuel you, to let it remind you of the love you had for your sister.

when you step onto the pitch for the first game, the crowd roars, and the energy in the stadium is electric. you feel it in your chest, the adrenaline, the excitement, but also the weight of everything you’ve been through. 

the game begins, and as soon as the ball is at your feet, it’s like muscle memory. you’re back in your element, weaving through defenders, finding your teammates, playing the game you love. 

you’re not playing for anyone else now, not for the expectations or the pressure. you’re playing for her. for the sister who loved football more than you ever could, who would’ve given anything to be in your shoes.

and for the first time in a long while, it feels right.

as the season progresses, you find yourself healing, little by little. there are still moments when the grief hits hard, when the memories sneak up on you, but you’ve learned how to live with it. you’ve learned how to carry it without letting it crush you.

you and lena spend more quiet evenings together, just talking, reflecting, or sometimes sitting in comfortable silence. she’s been your anchor through all of this, and you know that you couldn’t have made it through without her.

one night, after a particularly tough match, you’re both lying in bed, the exhaustion from the game settling into your bones. lena is tracing lazy patterns on your back, her touch soothing, grounding.

“do you think she’s proud of you?” lena asks quietly, her voice soft in the dim light of the room.

you think about it for a moment, feeling the familiar ache in your chest, but this time, it’s not as sharp. it’s bittersweet, but it’s bearable.

“yeah,” you whisper, a small smile tugging at your lips. “i think she is.”

you close your eyes, lena’s warmth beside you, and for the first time in a long time, you feel at peace. 

authors note: please inbox me if you're ever struggling or need someone to talk to. you're loved, I love you, and the world is a better place with you here in it.

masterlist

[concreteangel92]

Hope this is ok for you ☺️ I do feel like I’ve rushed it ever so slightly but my connection in Egypt isn’t great unfortunately and I just wanted to get it up for you!

18+ below the cut!

Tags: @iloveyoubutifeellikeimdrowning @noahsebastions

Your best friend Noah had asked you to house sit for him while he was away on tour, of course you said yes, there wasn’t much you wouldn’t do for your best friend.

Everything had gone smoothly while he was away, you knew he was due back in a few days time.

Tonight you felt extremely bored as there was nothing to do within the house, nothing to watch on tv so you had decided to have a ‘self care night’ as you called it.

However you were struggling to get yourself worked up at all, no matter what you did, nothing seemed to help.

For some reason Noah flashed through you mind, what would he think if he knew what you were doing in his spare room? That thought alone caused a spark of arousal through your body.

“Well that’s not normal”

You pushed the worry away and allowed yourself to think of Noah, how handsome he is, how tall he is and how deep his voice is.

You sighed in frustration as you still struggled, you wished that your fingers could be replaced with Noah’s instead.

“I bet he’d be able to help”

Ignoring the logical part of your mind, you decided to go next door to Noah’s room, the thought of being able to smell his scent and know that you were in his bed was something you just couldn’t pass up, he was away so how would he even know?

You quickly moved into the room next to yours and got comfortable on his bed, feeling like you were about to be caught, although you knew that wasn’t the case, it definitely was helping your mood, the rush of doing something you knew you shouldn’t, in your best friends bed was too good not to explore.

You reached your hand down to your core and started to rub slow circles over your clit, the feeling now much more intense, the smell of Noah was all around you, you let yourself slip into a new fantasy of it being Noah’s hand instead of your own.

Your head fell back into his pillows as you let your moans fall from your lips, not caring to be quiet. Your fingers dipped lower and you slid one inside and felt how wet you truly were.

Your mind thought of Noah and how his fingers would stretch you out beautifully and how’d he’d no doubt talk you through it.

You slid one more finger inside and your other hand gently rolled your nipples, you could feel your high getting closer.

“Oh Noah…don’t stop”

“I haven’t even started yet”

Your eyes shot open and you sat yourself bolt upright at the sound of Noah’s voice, very much in the room with you.

Trying to cover yourself up as you felt your cheeks go bright red, you saw Noah leaning against his doorway with his arms crossed.

“Noah…I can explain…”

“Oh I can see what’s happening, you’re making a mess on my sheets instead of making a mess on me”

Your brows frowned together at his words as he stood himself upright and started to walk over.

“You’ve been a very bad girl y/n, and bad girls need to be punished.”

You sat in shock, was this really happening?

“If you want it that is? Because I’ll be honest, I’ve dreamed of nothing more then to get my hands on that ass of yours for a long time”

That snapped you out of it and you nodded your head, an ache starting immediately again in between your legs.

“On your knees for me baby, ass up”

You did as you were told and presented yourself up to him, not missing the groan that came from him as you felt his presence next to you.

“Now I’m only going to do 5 tonight, mostly because I’ve had a hard on ever since I heard your moans from down the hall and I can’t wait much longer to have you. Count for me angel and then I’ll bring your little fantasy to life”

You felt his hand rub over your cheeks almost lovingly before he spanked you hard.

“One!”

The impact alone had you clenching, his hand was so big and he certainly knew what he was doing.

“That’s my girl”

Noah brought his hand down fast on each cheek as you counted out “two! Three! Four!”

It stung beautifully and your body felt like it was on fire, you couldn’t wait to have him properly. Noah spanked you once more hard.

“Five!”

Noah ran his hands over your cheeks again before his fingers ghosted over your entrance.

“Fuck you’re absolutely soaked”

You pressed your head into your arms as you moaned softly.

“Noah please”

“I’ve got you baby”

You gasped and giggled when you felt Noah playfully bite down on your sore cheek before you heard his strip out of his clothes and he spread your legs wider.

You glanced back and seeing Noah’s body was mouthwatering and to see how hard and ready he was for you made you whimper in need.

Noah leant down and kissed you gently, seemly in no rush as you felt him line himself up, feeling him stretching you open.

You both cried out at the feeling, Noah’s hands settled on your hips before he started to thrust in and out of you, the sound of your own wetness hitting your ears and making you blush.

After getting yourself so worked up earlier and the spanking you’d just received, you knew you wouldn’t last long.

Noah suddenly pulled you back into his chest by your throat and quickened his pace, the new angle making you feel every inch of him.

“So, my naughty girl thought it was ok to mess my sheets up then?”

His thrusts were deep and his hand tightened around your throat just enough to make your head spin.

“I’m…I’m sorry No…Noah”

“Fuck….and what will my good girl do…shit…next time?”

You could feel your end approaching, his cock was hitting all the right spots and your brain was fuzzy from being choked while he spoke directly into your ear.

“I’ll come to you”

“That’s right baby, I’ll make sure we train you to behave from now on”

Your stomach twisted at his words while your thighs started to shake, tears formed in the corner of your eyes as you squeezed them shut. Noah reached his other hand down and rubbed fast on your clit while he continued to thrust into you and that was all it took to send you crashing over the edge.

Noah held you close to him while your body shook and you cried out, his hips faltering in his rhythm as he emptied himself inside you, his groans lost in your shoulder.

Your body went limp against his as he cuddled you to him, he slipped himself out and gently laid you both down on the bed, both still catching your breath.

You don’t miss the cheeky smile on his face a few moments later.

“Did I forget to mention that I was coming home early by the way?”

[sunny44]

Co-parenting (Part 1)

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x ex wife!reader

Warnings: Carlos being a bitch, fighting and maybe other things.

Summary: Co-parenting is never easy but y/n never though it would be so hard.

Next Chapter

Carlos and I got divorced 2 years ago, and currently, we share custody of our daughter, which means I have her since Carlos travels a lot due to racing, so every weekend he’s free, he comes and picks up Maeve.

But this time I had a very unpleasant surprise.

Being famous, I was always aware of what was happening with Carlos, even if I didn’t want to, and a few months ago, rumors came out that he was with some model, and when we separated, we made an agreement that any person who entered romantically into our lives, we would introduce to each other before involving that person in our daughter’s life.

But it seems Carlos had a problem when it comes to him.

I crossed my arms watching Carlos and the model girlfriend get out of the car and come towards my door, besides not notifying me about it, he simply brought her along without any prior discussion or approval.

The doorbell rang, and I walked to the front door, and there were Carlos and Rebecca, both trying to look welcoming and unconcerned.

“Hi, Y/n,” Carlos said, smiling. “How are you?”

“What is this?” I asked, pointing to the two of them.

“What do you mean?”

“You demand an agreement, and when it comes to you, you simply ignore it.” He took a deep breath.

“I know, but we’ve been dating for a while, and I thought it was time for you to meet her.”

“Meet her?” Y/n’s voice trembled with frustration. “You can’t make this decision alone, Carlos. We are her parents, and this should be a decision we make together, not something you just think is a good idea and ignore the fact that I am her mother.”

Rebecca stepped forward, with a gentle voice.

“Y/n, I really just want to get to know her. I’m not trying to replace you.”

And my frustration only intensified.

“It’s not about replacing me. It’s about us making decisions together for our daughter, and that doesn’t involve you being here.” Carlos sighed, running his hand through his hair.

“Look, it wasn’t our intention to make you uncomfortable. Let’s talk about this, okay?”

“Oh, so now you want to talk?”

“Can you stop being so difficult? She’s my daughter too.”

“Then start acting like a father instead of going around kissing models in clubs and then bringing them to my doorstep.”

“I am a father when I can be because my life is very busy, and you knew that when we had her.” He says arms crossed. “Maybe you should stop being a terrible mother making me lose the little time I have with my daughter, and then we talk about it.”

“Carlos.” Rebecca speaks as he finishes.

“You know what, if anyone here is a terrible parent, it’s you who prefers to spend your weekends in a car racing in circles and risking leaving your daughter without a father. I’m here every day doing the best I can to take care of her, but apparently, that makes me a terrible mother, so I’ll call her and you do whatever you want since it’s always been like this.”

I enter the house holding back my tears and go call her, she was so excited to see her dad that she didn’t even notice the tension between us, and I thanked god for that.

He tried to talk to me before leaving, but I just said goodbye to Maeve and closed the door, but I couldn’t help but notice that Rebecca wasn’t there anymore.

…

Hours passed and when the end of the day came, I heard the noise of his car, so I went to the door, and when I opened it, she came running.

“Mom, look.” She said showing me a bag full of things. “I’ll show you everything after I take a shower and have dinner.”

“Okay, my love, go ahead.” She smiles, says goodbye to him, and goes to her room.

“Can we talk?”

“No, I don’t want to talk to you.” I tried to close the door, but he held it. “You’ve already said what you think of me, and I’ve already said what I think of you; I don’t think we have anything else to say.”

“What I said is not what I really think.”

“In fact, it is, at least part of you thinks that way, and I’m not going to take back what I said about you because I think that way. I know it’s your career, but I won’t admit that you break our rule, tell me I’m a terrible mother, and then come back wanting to apologize.” He doesn’t say anything. “You don’t know how hard it is to see the guy you loved more than anything with someone else, but especially to see the father of your daughter say that you’re a terrible mother even though I work really hard to give her the best life I can.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That won’t fix things this time, Carlos.” I say looking into his eyes. “You don’t do anything to make my life easier; you show up, do your fatherly duty for a weekend while I stay here dealing with everything else. I don’t have the option of having only the easy parts of having a child. I have to deal with the pressure of being a single mother, having to hide from her every time I need to cry because I can’t take it anymore doing this alone, or having to leave her with my parents because I can’t even get out of bed to take care of her while you’re out there sticking your tongue down supermodels’ throats.”

“I didn’t know you felt this way.”

“And how would you know? You’re never here.” He doesn’t say anything. “I don’t need anything from you, not anymore. The time when I needed you here has passed, and I hope it never comes back.”

“Is everything okay, mommy?” Maeve asks appearing on the stairs, having taken a shower and wearing pajamas.

“Yes, my love, what do you want to eat?” I say wiping my tears.

“I want nuggets with veggies.”

“Okay, so let’s make them.”

“Are you going to have dinner here, daddy?”

“No, my love, I have to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“But don’t you have to go travel?”

“I do, but not now.”

“Okay.” She goes to him and then comes back to the table. “I’ll really come to pick her up tomorrow if that’s okay with you.”

“Okay.”

“Bye.” He leaves, and I lock everything.

“Mommy, where are you?” She screams from the kitchen.

“I’m coming baby.”

I’m not sure if I’ll write a part 2 but if you guys want another part, let me know.

[perkqularkreashions]

Living with the Enemy, Joe Goldberg x Reader

Part 1: Last Nice Guy in New York??

Prompt: YN is close friends with Peach, Annika, Beck, and Lynn. She doesn't fit into their circle, nor does she try to. Joe soon sets his sights on YOU, leading to a domino effect within Y/N's life.

Requested: YES | Requested are OPEN|

Warnings: Mature Content, Manipulation, Stalking, Slightly Proofread.

It had been some time since you last spoke with Peach and her willing and obedient entourage. You blissfully ignored them, avoiding the usual hangouts and skipping daily walks with your son. You took different routes and dined at other eateries, and for a while, you enjoyed this simple and slow-paced lifestyle. 

It was a particularly warm day in New York; the increasing winds had died, allowing you to turn off the space heaters that litter your apartment. You relished the smell of cleaning products and baby formula rather than burning rubber. You watched as Rafi bounced around in his walker from his room back to the living room. His hand slapped against some trinket that sang a quick tune of “You are my sunshine.” It was probably his favorite plaything on that bouncer, but it annoyed the absolute hell out of you. The loud and high-pitched continuous loop of "you are my sunshine... my only sunshine", but he loved it, so you endure it. You cracked open the window, allowing the fresh air to filter into the apartment, the warm breeze washing over you briefly before returning to stillness. Contently, you sighed. Your eyes flickered to the door; a hesitant knock followed by two more confident knocks. You shuffled off the couch, unable to gaze through the peephole due to the grime built up over the years. You mentally noted that you need to tell the landlord about that. Unlocking your three deadbolts, you pressed your ear against the door, hearing the muffled female voices.

You opened the door and noticed Peach, Beck, Lynn, and Annika. Your eyes widened as you stumbled back, Peach charging into the apartment. Her eyes glanced around as she brightly smiled at Rafi before returning her cold gaze to you. She crosses her arms, waiting for you to fill the silence with an apology. The tension hung in the air like a heavy fog, palpable and suffocating everyone as they all watched you, their once easy rapport replaced by an uneasy silence. Every word left unsaid seemed to echo between them, filling the space with a sense of unease that was almost tangible. You chuckled before turning away, gathering some of Rafi’s items out of habit. “You don’t just go MIA for weeks like that!” Everyone slowly shifts into the apartment; you feel suffocated. “I called, you never answer.”

You plainly answered, “I know.” You shoved some clothes into the hamper before returning to the group. You tried to think of something to say and formulate something harsh and crude to say back to Peach and her brainless minions that followed her every call, jumping at the snap of her fingers and pleading for some sort of acceptance from her. You sighed, sitting on the sage-colored love seat, your elbows resting on your knees as you rubbed your temples gently. “Peach, you and your…whatever this is. Can happily get the fuck out of my apartment. You can’t just storm into my home and expect me to drop to my knees begging for you to what…forgive me?” 

You felt the couch dip next to you, the smell of her engulfing you. It iterated the fuck out of you yet offered you a warm feeling. She was home; despite her manipulation, gas-lighting, and bitch behavior, she was home. You finally looked at her, your face growing warm as you pressed your lips together. Her smile growing as she knew, she squealed, wrapping her arms around you. “Say you forgive us… me?” You nodded against her before pulling back. “Great, let’s go out to eat! We’ve missed you and have lots to catch you up on!”

You nodded, pressing a feigned smile on her lips; Annika smiled, wrapping you in a brief, one-armed hug. She was followed by Lyn, who seemed more than pleased that you had returned. They moved away, gawking at Rafi as they spoke with him in an annoying, high-pitched tone. They were flashing toys in front of him before snatching them quickly as he giggled loudly. You stood beside Beck; an awkward silence washed over you both. Beck wanted to speak… she wanted to ask if what Peach had been filling in her head was true. Suppose you had been trying to pine after Joe; how would she feel? She admitted her feelings for Joe were growing; she liked having him around and the attention he provided her when Benji was off on a binge of whatever drug would provide him with whatever relief. “We missed you… I missed you,” Beck spoke, cutting through the silence. 

“I’m sorry,” You mumbled, bumping into her shoulder and offering her a half smile. She tucked a small piece of hair behind her ear.  

“I’ve been dying to tell you about everything, I mean everything,” Beck whispers through her laugh as she watches you for a moment. Beck confided you about everything; you weren’t judgmental and never gave advice—you were just a lending ear that she craved in the whirlpool that was Peach. You sighed, knowing that no matter where you were in your life and how far you thought you had escaped Peach, she was always lurking in the shadows, ready to devour you at any minute.

You hummed softly, your hand occasionally, moving the visor back to check to see if your son was still alive. Your hand fluttered in front of his face; quickly, he reached for your fingers. You had spent most of the morning shopping for groceries and wanting to find some fresh produce. You gathered green apples, strawberries, and some blueberries. It has been a slow-paced morning; class was canceled, you were finally caught up on your assignments, and only needed to grade some papers from some of your classes. You hadn’t seen Peach since your lunch date with the girls two weeks ago. It was spent, for the most part, talking about Beck’s choices in men and the plethora of men that have taken her to bed… all this steaming from Benji ghosting her. You didn’t know what she saw in him, but he was a poser and couldn’t hold down an idea, let alone his own business. She had fucked, Mr. Bedroom Eyes, someone that she had met in the library, all while leading on Joe and worrying about Benji.

Your eyes shifted slightly; noticing him underneath the navy-blue baseball cap, he examined the fruit before placing it down. You smiled brightly, peering left and right before approaching him. You stuttered for a moment; wait is it weird that you were approaching him? Did you even need to say hello? You stood behind him, mindlessly watching his gaze at the fruit. Weaving through the throngs of people as your eyes held steady on him, your hands tightening against the stroller. Panic surged through you, threatening to overwhelm my senses as your hands hesitantly reach out to his shoulder. Joe jumped as he spun around; a toothy grin fell on his lips as his eyes shifted to Rafi. “Sorry, this must be weird.” You quickly tried to explain, and yet there you stood. 

“No!” Joe smiled, “No weird at all.” He watched you, taking in your beauty from the curve of your lips to the furrow of your brows. Your eyes are a soft color, filled with so much emotion. He contained his excitement, continuing to handle the slightly ripe peach in his hand. A soft breath of relief escaped your lips; Joe watched you, taking in every moment, from the twitch of your eye when you smiled to the slight tightening of your hands against the stroller’s handle. Were you nervous? You didn’t need to be! I am all yours! Joe’s thoughts muddled aggressively through his head, his eyes concentrating more on your slight movements, the way you shifted your weight to your left hip as you stood there, watching him. Your index finger nervously taps before stopping.

“Good, I thought it’d be weird if I recognized you in this crowded space,” you laughed; it was soft. A small smile crept on his face as he moved closer to you, a single step to be closer to you. You slightly shifted, leaning against the stroller as you pushed it in front of you before bringing it back. “It’s nice to see you again.” Your heart fluttered as you watched his goofy take hold of his lips. His cheeks dusted pink as he nodded hesitantly; he stepped forward, watching you walk away in the crowd, occasionally wiggling your fingers in front of your son’s view. 

“Are you alone?” Joe mentally cringed as you paused, peering over your shoulder in confusion, “I meant, I could keep you company while you go shopping… If you don’t mind.” Do you mind? You wouldn’t mind, would you? Joe thought; he watched you ponder his offer, and you fully faced him as you smiled, nodding at him. Joe joined you, shoulders bumping into each other as you continued to walk through the farmer’s market. Looking at the different herbs and vegetation sprawled on the tables, you fingered at them, rubbing your fingers with a concentrated look on your face as Joe pushed Rafi. Joe watched you in awe, his hand gripping against the stroller in angst and yearning. He watched you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear; you quickly turned to him, putting a strong-smelling herb in his face. He winced as he swatted at his nose; you laughed softly before agreeing with the saleswoman that the left one was more pungent. 

“My mom made this weird-tasting soup for me when I was sick, but it always helped. It helps when Rafi has a little bug. He hates it; he scratches at my arms when I force-feed it to him.” You laughed, showing him the small craters in her skin that hadn’t healed properly. Joe took your arm, letting his thumb trace over the craters. “He’s so mean when he wants to be; I guess he gets that from his dad.” Joe watched you, taking in every word that was said. 

“His dad hit you?” You were stunned; you placed the herbs in your tote bag before looking at Rafi, making a slight face and tickling him. Joe observed you, your face tense as you seemingly tried to feign enjoyment in the brief time with your son. He watched how you weren’t standing so close to him; your shoulders still touched every again, but not the same as before. Joe cursed at himself for bringing it up; Joe hated that he made you feel so small and helpless again. You froze at the sound of your name; Joe noticed it, too. He peered over his shoulder seeing someone rush to you, his hand waving wildly as he began to jog to catch up to you. He called your name again. Joe’s eyes flickered at you, and you were frozen, eyes wide in fear. Joe leaned closer to you, but you were snapped out of thoughts when the man stood directly behind you. You slowly turned, now facing the stranger. Joe watched the man; something about was familiar, the curve of his lip and the bushiness of his brow. His hair was long and pulled into a rendition of a man-bun with some pieces falling in front of his face; he was clean-shaven and muscular. His skin was a deep cooper color that glistened but wasn’t sweat…more of an oil-based lotion. 

“It’s been so long!” he smiled with a bright smile, teeth perfect and in a row, no obscurities or imperfection. He tried reaching out for a hug, but you backed away, letting a small smile rest on your lips. You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t have to for Joe to notice how uncomfortable you were. “Who’s this?” His eyes never left yours. Joe could see the intimidation in his eyes, and his smile never reached his eyes when he spoke. 

Joe moved the stroller before him, stretching his hand in the process; a bright smile rested on his lips. “Joe.” The man didn’t acknowledge him or care for his name. Finally, he passed him a glance, his face churning into a distasteful look. His eyes moved to the stroller, and as a bright smile crossed his lips, he bent down for a moment. Wiggling at Rafi’s shoes, speaking in a babbled baby talk before looking up to you again. 

“You know he misses you and him; you shouldn’t run away. Especially with his child.” The man spoke, and he stood to his feet. “See around.” He spoke before brushing past you. Joe grabbed your arm, and you winced momentarily, flinching away from him. Your eyes finally connected with Joe’s; you sucked in a deep breath before grabbing unto the stroller. A sense of comfort washed over you. 

“Thanks for today… for this. I appreciate it,” you hummed. Joe nodded, watching you walk away; his eyes focused on the man who had ruined your perfect day together. It started innocently enough, stumbling into an impromptu game of hide-and-seek. Plunging into the maze of crowds, Joe found himself, trailing the stranger, drawn by the same curiosity that everyone in the market has. Joe shadowed his movements, picking up a weathered journal or a fruit that was slightly ripe. His eyes cut to the man every chance he had gotten. As Joe meanders through the maze of makeshift booths and colorful displays, the man he’s following remains blissfully unaware of his presence. They weave through the crowd, partaking in a dance that only Joe is aware of. 

“Dom! Dom! Dom Batista! As I live and breathe in the flesh it is you!” Joe groaned at the dramatic nature of New Yorkians, every word that stumbles out of their mouth an illicit affair with Shakespeare and a Soap Opera. “It has been so long since we’ve last seen each other!”

Joe followed behind you, face low as he watched you hurriedly move through the streets, passing men and women alike. 

Batista….Batista….Batista is the name of a Judge in New York City; their mother was an actress who starred in plenty of movies before her fall from grace and getting addicted to cocaine. They had three children, three boys: Jonathan, the oldest—who was a criminal defense attorney. He was married with two sons. He didn’t post on social media, but his wife, Mary Glassgo, came from an Affluent family in Virginia who had established wealth through “other means.” during the late 1700s, did, in fact, post and posted often. She was overly descriptive and pictured all the locations where they dined, shopped, and vacationed. She was on a trip with her two sons, enjoying the mountains in Vermont.  The caption was, “Can’t get away from life all the time, but when I do, it’s always with my two favorite boys.” Joe followed you across the street, scrolling through her Instagram until he came across a photo from Thanksgiving; he dragged his thumb across the screen, revealing a picture of her and another man who looked similar to Jonathan, tagged was St_Do_Batista. Dominick, the middle— Joe, recgonized him as the man he saw today; he frequently posted almost every day at the gym. He was a professional boxer; his face wasn’t riddled with too many lacerations and scars, which indicated that he was good at his craft. He had a girlfriend, one of many girlfriends. They all came and gone, as soon as a new one would be posted with a bright smile, not knowing her fate. Petite blondes, curvy brunettes, tall red-heads, even some bald girls with tattoos riddling every surface of their bodies.  

“Hello….” Joe thought; he scrutinized the photo, and you were smiling, your cheek pressed against him as you embraced him. He just won a fight; he hugged you tight. Joe scrolled to the following image… it was a video; he played it. You giggled as he spun, cheering as one hand held you tight against him. You spoke gently, words that the camera didn’t pick up, nor did anyone else. He continued to scroll as he noticed that most photos were of you cooking in his house, at the park with him, on his couch with the laptop tucked on your thighs as you carefully examined whatever was on the screen. You took up a majority of his life and then nothing. Joe saw a picture of him and another look similar to the Batista family; he clicked on the tagged name. RafiBat didn’t post much, but when he did, he generated a lot of attention from women. He was a boxer, too, and he and his brother were often referred to as the Basista Brothers. He didn’t post you often, once or twice; that was in photos with Dominick. But it was evident that you both were friends. He was attending a university known for its Marine Biology program. He had been traveling overseas, where he had been for the last few months, pictures of him with sharks, fish, turtles, and some other classmates. There was a picture of you, smiling brightly in his bed with her belly exposed; it was small, possibly in the early months of your pregnancy. His caption read “My Everything.”

Joe’s attention was averted to the left as he noticed someone briskly walking, eyes concentrated on you. His hand dug into his pocket as he pulled out his phone, dialing quickly. He spoke before hanging up. Did you not notice? Did you feel someone following you? Joe broke off in a sprint, laughing softly before calling out your name; you peered over your shoulder in confusion, hesitating as you squinted your eyes at him. 

Joe’s body collided against yours, taking your hand as he smiled gently. “Why’d you run off like that? I was looking for you everywhere!” he calls out exaggeratedly loud, his hand falling at his side; he watched your wide eyes swiftly snap to him while he continued to guide you forward, Joe’s hand pressed on your lower back. “Someone has been following you,” he whispered through a gritted smile. Her body stiffened as his words echoed through the stillness in the air; you were tempted to look, her head inching to the left slightly. “No, don’t look… Just keep walking baby.” You hummed in understanding. Joe peered over his shoulder, watching the man avoiding the dim street lights, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his body focused ahead of him, but he could see the whites of his eyes and the darkness of his orbs staring deep into your side. Then Joe remembered the small encounter you had at Peach’s party, the drunken party-goer grabbing you, retelling his woes of missing their friend group and a man who seemed to miss you just as much. Your body reacted negatively, your eyes watering, and your skin paled as you stumbled away from him.  Joe watched your hands dance against your face, trying to wipe the anxiety that was trailing through your body. Joe wanted to lead you home, protecting you from the evils lurking in the shadows you weren’t aware of. Joe allowed you to lead you both to your apartment complex. Joe swiftly grabbed Rafael, allowing you to close the stroller. You put in the code 76477; Joe held open the door as you shuffled in your hands, digging through your satchel in search of your keys. He noticed three locks; just as if you practiced this a hundred times, you easily unlocked the door. 

Joe smelled deeply, taking in the scent of baby powder and your aroma. Rafael rested against his neck, his chest breathing gently as he slept. His tiny breaths could be heard as they smacked against his pacifier. Joe scanned your apartment again; it was vastly bigger than Beck’s and his. His eyes fell on an opening; it wasn’t too big but just big enough to have a window, an oak-colored crib decorated with white and green. “You can just set him down in there…He won’t last too long in the crib,” He heard your voice as you locked the front door. You were latching on the deadbolts and other self-brought knick-knacks. Joe set Rafi down, brushing his hair out his face; he squirmed slightly in a panic. Joe quickly turned on the mobile, slightly out of reach for Rafi. He pressed a button; the mobile began to hum to live, and soon, water sounds came on. Splashing, sounds of whales and dolphins, and what seems like rain hitting the waters. It was soothing, and Rafi’s face soon mellowed. Joe allowed Rafi to hold unto his finger; his grip was tight as his body sprawled on the crib’s mattress.

“He usually isn’t so peaceful to put down. He must like you.” He heard you whisper; Joe peered over his shoulder, watching your head pressed against the door’s frame. Joe removed his finger, returning his attention to you. You walked out of the room as Joe followed you. The silence washed over you as you paced around the room, trying to find the right words. Joe stood there, waiting, allowing you to take as much time as needed. 

“Joe?” You finally whispered, your eyes finally landing on him. In that moment, Joe felt your souls tying together, latching and burning into each other. “Thank you.” you pushed out, tucking your bottom lip into your teeth. 

“I noticed him following you after the market…I didn’t know what to do but when I saw him trying to cross the street… Who is he?” 

“Dominick, my ex’s brother. Rafi’s father.” Joe nodded; you trusted him, you trusted him. You weren’t a liar like Beck, “Dom and I were close; I even thought we would be together, but then he got a girlfriend. He stopped coming around, that’s when I met Rafael, he was gentle at first…but I guess that was the point. I had a fling with him and then with his brother, shit just got messy fast, and I got pregnant. That’s when he got abusive… I tried pressing charges, but his dad always dropped the cases, saying that I was a daughter of a junky prostitute and a “john.” I asked for a different judge and each time I was denied. I was finally….finally allowed to get a restraining against him, but it expired, and I wasn’t allowed to renew due to no current impending dangers.” Joe watched you; he stepped close to you, grabbing your arms. You sighed, looking up at him. 

“If you need anything, anything… I am here for you.” Joe whispers; you nod, folding your arms underneath each other.

Please ask me to say; please beg me to stay. Joe thought; he nodded as he moved away from the couch. “Joe, wait!” You stood up, “You don’t mind staying for the night, do you? I would feel comfortable with a man around the house… just for the night.” Your voice is soft, and Joe could tell you needed him. He couldn’t deny you. He peered over his shoulder and smiled. 

The night progressed as you lay in the bed, shifting uncomfortably in the bed. Your eyes squeezing shut, trying to feign being asleep in hopes of tricking your mind into slumber.

“Joe, are you sleeping?” You called out into the darkness, “Joe?” You called out once more, panicked; you sat up quickly squinting through the darkness as you watched his chest slowly fall and rise. You sighed for a moment, shifting comfortably in the bed.

“Yes?” 

Joe rises from the couch, groaning as he shuffles to you. He crawls into bed, and you open the covers, allowing him to slide in. His eyes were low from being awoken from his sleep, his hands tight as he observed you move closer to him. You craved his warmth; a sense of comfort and protection seeped through to you. Your eyes focused on Joe’s, watching through the stillness of the night and the slight light that the moon gave you. His hand gently reached out, tucking your hair behind your ear, holding onto the strand until he reached the end. He moved closer, pressing a kiss on your forehead. He held it, trying to compose himself. He didn’t want to push himself onto you; he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He wasn’t going to be like your ex or your father. Joe pulled back, your eyes fluttering open hesitantly, and you moved closer to him. Your lips molded together, smacking in the silence as your slight hums vibrated into his mouth. He pulled away; you were vulnerable and seeking out comfort in him. He needed to wait to see if this feeling rang true. He wanted you more than you could know, more than he thought possible. He couldn’t take advantage of you like this, not right now… not ever. He cuffed your cheek, kissing your forehead before you, wishing you a good night.

Burning something evoked a wide range of emotions in Joe, a symbol of something new shifting in the atmosphere. The flicker of a match igniting, the scent of smoke swirling in the air, and the crackle of flames consuming the body— the overwhelming sensory experiences that engage him in the death of Benji. He stood over the growing flames, watching them dance against his body; Joe thought he would feel at ease. He couldn’t–his mind racing back to you and Rafi. Joe grew angry, feeling compelled to kill Benji; he was powerless against the woe of Beck, her smile and innocence being stripped away. It's as if his autonomy is being stripped away, leaving him feeling vulnerable and exposed. The heightened feelings of frustration and resentment began to grow through this loss of control. 

He thought of you as he smelled the charred remains of Benji, your face dancing in the flames. He sighed, pushing his forearm against his brow. He quickly dialed you; he needed to hear your voice. 

“Joey?” Joe heard you whisper, soothing all anxieties that rushed through him. His hand gripping the steering wheel. “Joey? Everything alright?” He hummed, letting his head rest against the steering wheel. It has been one month since he had forced his way into your apartment, leaving articles of clothing behind and coming up with any excuse to stay the night, not that you minded. He had a key to your apartment now, coming in the mornings and getting Rafi together for daycare as you prep for classes and graded papers. Your glasses hung off the bridge of your nose while you gnawed on the cap of the pen—your eyes shifting from the monitor to the paper as you scribbled some markings on it before moving on to the next. The way his lips danced against yours, his hands gently caressed your skin as your lips tangled.

“Yes, everything is alright.” He heard you shuffling, the covers shifting off your body. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, Joey, no, you didn’t. What’s wrong?” You could always read him; you would always tell. You didn’t even have to look at him to see that something was picking at him. He knew that you were good for him; you were everything that he needed you to be. Joe remained silent; the only that was heard was Rafi’s babbling. “Just come over and well talk, okay.”

“Okay.” Joe hung up and made his way to you, his head spinning from his recent murder. His fingers trembled as he pulled down your street, finding a parking spot adjacent to your apartment building. He moved out of the car. His key jingled in the locks swiftly; you swung open the door, watching in bewilderment. Worry drawn on your eyebrows and lips. “Joey, what is going on? Was it—”

“No…no, just Beck.” You nodded for a moment, allowing him to enter the apartment; slamming the door, you proceeded to deadbolt the locks. You stared at the final lock, trying to compose yourself; he wasn’t yours. You were just friends. Why did it hurt at the mention of her name at the thought of him being at her apartment, embracing her? “She just makes me insane, always having to watch her and look out for her. All the lies and the—” You picked up the clothes that scattered the floor, tossing them in Rafi’s dirty clothes hamper. Mindlessly, you grabbed the toys, tossing them in a bin as they interrupted his sentence. 

“I see.” was all you could mumble out, your eyes flickering to him. He continued to ramble about how he didn’t trust her–how she was always so secretive around him. But that was Beck; the doe-like look in her eyes always masked the truth that crawled beneath the surface. She was manipulative; everything she did was calculated and meticulous. Her bold red lip contrasted against her pale skin, and her dress revealed just enough of her thigh to keep her professor yearning for more. The way she teased and poked at man’s most animalistic and primitive yearning, dangling it in front of their face before yanking it. You turned to face him, letting the hamper fall against the floor. 

“I frankly don’t want to hear about Beck. I understand she’s your girlfriend or whatever she is but, I can’t take hearing about her. When you’re sitting in my apartment, helping me take care of my son… playing house with me. I don’t want to hear about Beck. I get enough of her when I am with them. Every issue that plagues her, I hear about, all the damn time. Benji, you, the Captian. I can’t–I just can’t do it.” You turn away, heated you move into the bathroom face burning with embarrassment and angry. Angrily you slapped at the knob, turning on the hot water on. It screeched for a moment before the hot water spit out.

As you step into the shower, the hot water cascades over your skin, offering a momentary reprieve from the turmoil. Droplets dance across your body, carrying away the remnants of anger and frustration that cling to you like a heavy cloak. With each passing second, the tension melts away, replaced by a soothing sensation of renewal. You close your eyes, allowing the water to envelop you completely, washing away the Beck and Joe's monologue that echoed in your mind. Steam fills the air, wrapping you in a comforting embrace as you stand beneath the gentle stream, letting it cleanse your body and soul. Slowly, the weight of the conversation begins to lift, replaced by a sense of clarity and calm. In this sanctuary of steam and solitude, you find solace. You sighed as the shower opened; you saw his feet planted in the shower and the sound of a soft sigh resting in the air. You feel his hands gliding against your waist, pulling you closer to him. His lips pecked your shoulder, sucking in the aroma that cascaded around him. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?”  His hand gently drummed your abdomen, his cock hardening against you as he pecked at you, his hands moving to your breast, kneading at them slowly, letting his fingers squeeze and tug at your nipples. 

“Please, forgive me” he whispered; you couldn’t say no to him. So, you nodded, turning around fully to face him. Pressing a gently kiss against his lip, stepping out of the shower, grabbing the towel as you instantly moved to Rafi’s crib. 

As the tears streamed down his Rafi’s flushed cheeks, Joe’s heart ached with empathy. With gentle hands, he lifted the sobbing child into his arms, cradling him against his chest, his hand rubbing circles against his back something that he noticed his mom and he liked. Leaning close, he murmured soothing words in a soft, reassuring tone, his voice a balm to the boy's distressed soul. With each gentle stroke of his hand and whispered promise, Joe felt the tension begin to melt away from his Rafi’s trembling form. He rocked him back and forth, a steady rhythm that mirrored the beating of his own heart, a silent vow to always be there to chase away the shadows and dry the tears. Joe moved back your bed, and you reached out your arms, allowing Rafi to settle into your chest and Joe to cuddle back into your side. Rafi was a crybaby and wanted you to hold him 25/8; you wanted to break him out of that habit. Joe and you had been working on getting him to sleep through the night in his crib, it would only last two nights out of the week before Joe caved and dragged himself to Rafi’s crib, engulfing him in his arms. You didn’t bother to correct him; you could tell that something was off with him. You two didn’t speak much after your moment the shower; you didn’t try to get him to speak either.

A heavy knock on the door had woken Joe; he hissed in frustration, moving the walker out of the way as he stumped his toe against it. He looked back, seeing Rafi whining for him, his arm stretched as he crawled closer to the edge of the bed. Joe scooped him up, snatching your phone and checking the time—7:37 AM. He grunted as he moved to unlock the deadbolts and finally the door. The door swung open, revealing Peach. Her eyes widened as she glanced at Joe; quickly, she shook her head, trying to find the right words to say but couldn’t. Peach observed him, eyes squinted in fury and confusion. “She’s sleeping Peach.”

She called out your name, moving into the living room, her eyes falling on you as you lay in bed. Her head snapped to Joe, realizing that he was in his boxers. “What the fuck! What did you do to her?” Peach asked as she tried to grab Rafi. Joe stiffed her and backed away as she continued to reach for your son. 

Joe held Rafi tightly in his arms as Peach had her outstretched arms and a determined frown on her face. Ignoring Joe’s protective grip, Peach reached for the child, her fingers brushing against Joe’s before clasping around the little one's hand. Joe’s heart skipped a beat, a surge of protectiveness welling up within him. He pulled back, his hand resting against Rafi’s back as he watched Peach’s face morph, her eyes narrowing before he turned her attention to you. 

“Peach? What–What are you doing?” You shifted from the covers, you were in a grey crewneck, a B printed in brown and outlined in red. Your hair messing tied away from your face as you squinted to fully focus on her. 

“No! No—what are you doing?” She hisses, stomping towards you, your finger jabbing into the air as she throws her hands dramatically. 

“Peach, he was just—I saw Dominick. Since then, he has been here for me. Nothing… Nothing else has been going on.” You shouted over her rambles. Something in her face changed; she slammed her mouth shut, looking at you, taking in your words. She grabbed the back of her arm, holding it tighter to her person. Joe noticed the slight change in her demeanor at the mention of Dominick; he scared her. 

“Did you–” You quickly shook her hand, stretching out your hands for Rafi; Joe quickly moved to your side, sitting on the edge of the bed as Rafi crawled into your lap. Joe’s hands rested on top of yours; he pressed his lips against Rafi’s head before cuffing your chin. He rose to his feet. He grabbed his things, placing them on his clothes. He jiggled his phone before leaving out of your apartment, a silent single for you to call him when she leaves. “When did that happen?”

“Nothing happened. He just was here for me at the time and… I trust him.” Peach laughs, sitting on the bed. 

“Trust him, absolutely not. You know he’s playing you just like he’s playing Beck!” You rolled your eyes, unsure of what to make of her accusations. I mean, they weren’t incorrect in their entirety. Joe had a fleeting romance with Beck and probably still does. “He’s using you. I lost Beck to him, and I am not going to lose you. In this stupid ideology where you think you need him! You don’t need him! I am here for you; call me if you are feeling scared; call me if you are feeling down!” 

“I know” you mumbled, caressing Rafi. “I shouldn’t trust him” you confessed. “I really shouldn’t” a bitter laugh left your throat as you chocked on a sob that rose in your throat. 

“He could be like Rafael! You are so blinded by love that you didn’t see it then, but I did, and now, I do.” Peach whispered, as she inched in Joe’s spot. Resting her head against your chest, her hands wrapping against your torso. 

 Joe stood outside the closed door, his fists clenched at his sides, he strained to hear the muffled voices from within. Anger simmered beneath his skin, fueled by the snippets of conversation that reached his ears. Each word felt like a dagger, piercing through the thin veneer of his composure. He could hear her strained voice, a mixture with a Peach’s voice—a voice that grated on his nerves like sandpaper. His jaw tightened, muscles coiling with tension as he fought the urge to burst through the door and confront the source of his jealousy head-on. The temptation to intervene, to demand answers, pulsed through him like a steady drumbeat, drowning out reason and restraint. With every passing moment, his anger mounted, a raging inferno threatening to consume him whole. Yet, for now, he remained on the other side of the door, a silent witness to his own unraveling emotions. Something needed to happen, Peach was always in the way, the intricate dance of relationships that she always blocked. Stepping on his toes and stealing you away from him. Tangling you in her grasp, the same spell that Beck was under.  She was a figure looming in the background, casting a shadow over any potential romance that Joe worked so hard to grow and nourish. Her presence was like a shield, deflecting any attempts at romantic advancement with a casual remark or a well-timed interruption. 

He needed to kill her; her undoing was all the fault of her own. 

Goodbye Peach Sallinger. 

[ah-ga-seven]

Fucking Up the Sheets | Jung Jaehyun

Pairing: Fem!reader x Jung Jaehyun

Word count: 2.8k

Genre: smut, slice of life, teeny tiny bit of angst, fluff

Summary/Warnings: nsfw, established relationship, soft dom!jae, mentions of overstimulation, choking and squirting.

Never in your life did you imagine reaching this level of domestic in your relationship with Jaehyun this fast and so naturally. You’ve been together for 4 years now. Both of your social circles have basically melted together, and the only place where you lived separate lives was at work, especially since you started living together not long ago.  

Your friends always warned you that the first few months of living together was going to be tough. You’d have to re-figure each other out and get past the tiny differences you didn’t know about yet. Living together would be nothing like staying over at each other’s’ place or going on vacations for that matter.  Because now…you had a household to maintain. As a team.  

But to be honest…things worked pretty fine?  

The only problem is that Jaehyun only knows how to vacuum and do the dishes. He does all the other ‘manly’ stuff. Like taking out the trash, carrying the groceries in and fixing a lightbulb when needed. Though there weren't many bulbs to replace in a new home in the first place...  

“Babe, when I get back from work can you please change the bed sheets. I didn’t have time.” You were running late for work, giving him a desperate look as you stood in the hallway, ready to leave with your car keys and big ass water bottle in your hands.  

He didn’t look up from his phone, pursing his lips together to show his dimples as he nodded. A low hum escaped his lips, letting you know that he heard you.  

You stood still for a second, knowing him well enough to know he probably half-heard you. But for the purpose of avoiding a fight you decided to just trust him for once and not nag for not listening to you because you didn’t know for sure that he didn’t.  

You were just going to have to put your faith in him for once. And hopefully when you got back…he did the damn thing.  

Your job had it out for you today.  

You mixed up a deadline which meant you had to stay later than usual to be able to make it work and now that it was 8 pm. You were exhausted, dehydrated and tense.  

You tried to relax your shoulders and cancel out the dull ache in your lower back from sitting at your desk all day, but it was of no use. It looks like Jaehyun would have to massage yet another knot out of your shoulders tonight.

The thought of seeing him after such a long day made a smile creep up on your face unknowingly. Ah, yes. Home. It really is where the heart is.

“Babe?” you called out for him once you entered the house and walked straight into your living and kitchen area. He spotted you from the couch and got up to greet you. You had a rather exhausted pout on your face which made him chuckle at your cuteness when you opened your arms for him. He embraced you tightly, which made your eyes close in solace for a second. Jaehyun planted a kiss atop of your head and let go after his hands traveled to your waist. “I got takeout. I’ll heat some up for you while you shower, okay?” he sweetly suggests as he ghosted his thumb over your frown.

You nodded with a content smile, unknitting your eyebrows for the first time in a while. Your well-deserved weekend could finally start, and all you wanted to do after your diner was climb into your warm, clean bed to binge your favorite show together, but when you got out of the shower and into your bedroom, your smile faded.  

Jaehyun hadn’t made the bed yet, and just like that your good mood was spoiled.  

You kick yourself for not making sure he fully heard you this morning when you asked him to put on fresh sheets.

You were more fired up than usual given todays events and angrily started to remove the pillowcases one by one, making your way to the end of the bed with annoyed stomps to start unbuttoning the duvet cover and just as you were about to pull it off, the door creaked open.  

“Food is rea…dy.”  

You hadn’t looked at him yet but the little pause in his sentence was a dead giveaway for the fact that he knew you were angry. And that he KNEW he was supposed to do what you were doing right now.  

So, he did hear you this morning.  

You turn around giving him an exhausted glare. “I thought I asked you to do this.” you say throwing one of the pillowcases right at him.

His eyebrows raised in surprise, swiftly catching the cotton cover before it could hit him in the face. “I….yeah. True.” he admits pursing his lips together to show his dimples.

You just stare back at him at a loss for words. The least he could say is “I was going to” or a “Yes, sorry, I forgot, I’ll do it right now.” But he just gave you a corny ass smile as he leaned on the doorpost. Well at least he wasn’t trying to gaslight you…but why was he looking at you look that?  

You sigh in defeat, crossing your arms over your chest to seem more intimidating “Jaehyun, for fucks sake please just-” he interrupted you. “Baby where are your clothes?” he bit his lip as he gave you a look up and down and that’s when it struck you that you were only wearing your panties since you just got out of the shower.  

You guess you got distracted by your unmade bed before you could even think of putting something on.  

“I-” you look down at your bare chest and up at him again. “Jaehyun. Stop. I’m serious. Nothing about the way we run this household right now is 50/50.”  

“Hmm.” He wasn’t hearing you. His senses completely numbed by the raging hormones coursing through his veins as he looked at you through hooded eyes. He bit the inside of his cheek, his mouth watering at the sight of your erect nipples accompanied by the remaining droplets of water from your shower that remained on your neck and chest like glistening crystals. Even after all these years you still had the same effect on him.

He closed the distance between you two, brushing your hair back as his other fingertips ghosted from your neck to your chest, clamping on of your nipples between his middle and index finger. You jolted from the sensation, his cold hands sending shivers down your spine. “Sorry baby…” he mused, planting a quick kiss to your lips. “I have to get used to having you around like this all the time…” he stopped his sentence, looking down at you in awe as he feathered his fingers down your stomach. “I’ll be better, I promise.” He whispered in your ear before biting your earlobe ever so softly, and without warning his hand disappeared into your underwear.  

You immediately felt your whole body relax as you held onto his shoulders for leverage. You were dumbfounded by how easy it was for him to completely manipulate you like that. So you knew you had to put your foot down and…and uhm… -  by now you felt his fingers on your clit – What were you saying again?  

A breathy moan escaped your lips as you throw your head back in bliss. His digits slowly but steadily rubbing circles against your most sensitive bundle of nerves. “Jae-” you whined, unable to think straight anymore. “Hmm?” he mused, adding a bit more pressure now, making you buck your hips forwards in his hold. His other arm wrapped around your waist from behind to hold you in place for what he was about to do next as he moved your panties aside. Jaehyun then expertly coated his middle and index finger with his saliva, giving you a devilish look as he slowly inserted his fingers into you.  

You gasped at the stretch, but fully gave in by now just because it felt too good not to. You huffed, trying to find inner strength to voice something other than your incoherent moans.  

“L-lets argue later.” You guffawed, making him shake his head at you. He smirked contently, continuing his ministrations inside of you. “Let’s not argue at all baby.”

Fuck it. He was right.

You pulled him in for a deeper kiss as he finger-fucked you; making him moan into your mouth at your sudden eagerness. The bass in his voice made your body react to him by tightening around his fingers which made him smile against your lips. He was keeping his pumping rhythm while prying your lips open with his tongue to slowly suck on yours and by now you were sopping wet down there. You could hear it.

“Come here.” He mumbled, bending down to lift you off of the floor. You locked your ankles around his hips as he carried you to the bed. Jaehyun proceeded to let go of you playfully which made your back bounce on the matress. You giggled, watching him get rid of his shirt and sweatpants while biting your lip. You propped yourself up on your elbows to see, ghosting your fingers over his chiseled abs and his happy trail as he situated himself on top of you. He was teasingly grinding his clothed core onto yours to demonstrate how he’d fuck you with just a bit more patience. Your wetness had stained his grey sweatpants which made a string of slurs and praises roll from his lips. “Always so eager and ready for me.” he mused ghosting his thumb over your clit once again.

You lost patience and with no time to waste you pulled him in for a heated kiss again as your hands fought with the waistband of his boxers. He quickly stepped out of them once they were at his ankles, and opened up your legs as he pushed your knees up to your chest. His semi hardness rested against your thigh and the sight had your mouth watering. You wanted to pump him, but he playfully swatted your hand away. “Not until I say so,” he says sternly as he pumps his own length slowly while remaining eye contact.  

Oh? Ok sir. Period.  

“Why?” you pouted.  

He softened seeing your cute facial expression, making him kiss your inner thigh lovingly in response.  

“Cause I’m not done playing with you yet…” he was lost in thought as he roughly grabbed a handful of your breast, squeezing it hard and letting go just to slap it even harder. He was watching it bounce up and down in awe of your perfect figure, licking his lips with a lustful glare. You gasped, the stinging being a mere distraction as you watch Jaehyun eye you like a hungry animal. “You’re fucking perfect, you know that?” he says squeezing both of your tits this time. You bashfully try to avoid his stare, but he grabbed your chin, making you look at him. “Eyes on me baby.” Fuck. You couldn’t help but obey given how hot he was right now. He moved down your body again, taking your panties off of you slowly just to dive into your folds with his face.  

It’s like he was starved as he ate your pussy, sensually curling, flicking and flattening his tongue against your folds and your clit in alternating motions. He had your eyes rolling back, as you grabbed fistfuls of his hair which he seemed to love, because you felt him smile against your nethers. The pleasure was making your body shock with every flick of his tongue, making you desperate for that real gush of release. “Shit. Jae, please let me cum, please, please, please!” you begged pathetically as you screwed your eyes shut. He hummed in response, but it went over your head since he never stopped his menacing dance around your clit. You kept begging as you rolled your hips against his face, making him fuck your entrance with his wet pointy tongue while his nose grazed over your clit ever so slightly. He noticed how tense you got as you tried to stop yourself from cumming just because you didn’t have his permission yet.

He eyed you as you tensed up, you were trying to move away from him but he held onto your forearms tightly, pulling you back down onto his face as he watched you slither underneath him. Now realizing what you were doing he stopped for a second, continuing to roll his thumb against your clit instead so he could speak without losing friction.

“You don’t have to ask today baby, it’s okay.” You nodded feverishly, your moans getting louder and louder as his mouth attached to your clit again. Sucking and flicking his tongue onto your clit directly this time and with a few more seconds he had your whole core shocking and trembling as you squirted all over him and the bed. “J-jae, oh my god, n-no!”  

Your waters coated his lips and face, making him lick his lips and wipe his chest as he pumped his length. A low chuckle escaped his lips seeing your fucked out state but with just seconds to recuperate and no warning he pushed his cock into you in one hard motion.  

You gasped loudly as all the air got knocked out of your lungs and continued to moan deliriously as he fucked you with long, deep strokes.  

“This pussy is mine.” he growled, making you nod feverishly. ‘Yours, daddy! Yours!” You shout.

He smirked contently at your words, and curled his hands around your thighs, pulling you closer so your knees would be at his sides before picking up the pace. Your slick was helping out with how pleasurable and effortless his thrusts were, but still you yearned for more.

You took his right hand off of your leg and mindlessly put it around your neck to show him you wanted to be choked without words, which had his eyes darken with lust even more. He smiled, leaning forward to sweetly kiss your forehead as he starting to tightly pinch the veins on both sides of your throat. He closed his eyes, relishing in how your core tightened around his dick almost instantaneously as a reaction to his actions. “Ahh…fuck baby…s-so tight..” It was getting harder for him to control his thrusts and moans already.  

You looked into his dark orbs as tears welled up in your own, cupping his face while nodding at him to make sure he knew to keep going. He slowed down, sensually fucking into you this time as you started to gasp for air and that’s when your second orgasm hit you unexpectedly. You cried out, feeling yourself squirt again as you came which had Jaehyun pull out of you and let go of your neck immediately just to cum on your tummy.  

“Fuck!” he was out of breath, his chest heaving up and down just like yours as you both gasped for air. His body was glistening with both his sweat and well, your squirt and you…you were just not on planet earth anymore.  

He leaned forward, pecking your neck, chin and lips before making you look at him. “Are you ok?”  

Jesus you were done for, but you gave him a nod and a thumbs up with all the strength you had left in you and rolled over to your side to close your legs and regulate your breathing.  

He chuckled lowly, giving you a second to breathe and collect yourself as he started to massage your thighs with soft pinches in hopes to release some of the ache. He knew he was hard on you, but he can’t help it. Something straight out animalistic awakens in him when the two of you are having sex. It was one of the things that kept your love life exciting even after 4 years of being together.

Jaehyun looked down at the sheets and himself, still high on dopamine and pride. His chest was wet, as were your thighs, and the sight was absolutely sinful. “You don’t squirt often but when you do….damn.” he mused in approval as he grabbed the nearest towel to pat himself dry.  You regained enough consciousness to realize what he was saying and looked down at him, yourself and the damn bed. “Oh my god. I’m sorry.”  

“Don’t apologize…it’s the hottest thing...ever.” he giggled cutely, making your heart swell at the sound. How is that the same man who just railed you into another universe?  

“I guess I can go back into that shower,” you mope.

“Yeah…let me join you.” He mumbled as he helped you up from the bed by pulling at your arm and that’s when you both felt the wet sheets.  

“…Aren’t you glad I didn’t make the bed now…otherwise it would’ve been all fucked up.” He says with a playful glint in his eyes, trying to hide the fact that the corners of his mouth were trying to curl up into a smile.  

You glared at him, pushing him away which made him laugh out loud as he stumbled a step back.  

“Oh, shut up.”  

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I love you.” He kissed your temple with a smile. “I’ll do it while you have your dinner. Alright?” he beamed at you so adorably that you couldn’t help but give in and nodded. “I love you too.” you say before placing a chaste kiss to his lips. “But first, let’s get cleaned up ourselves,” you say pulling him into the bathroom with you.  

[Masterlist]

[smallestapplin]

the heats of a Dhampir

for those unaware, in castlevania SOTN Alucard has a monster form, much like his father, so pair that with vampire's having heats every 4 years and this was born.

Warning! : reader is enby afab, womb fucking, heats, Alucard being a little feral, established relationship, and shifting mid fuck.

minors do not interact!

-

-

Alucard's heat is worst than he thought, his mind cloudy, filling with more animalistic thoughts, his body reacting before he has a chance to process the situation. It made him want to avoid you, and trust he has tried, yet his feet move against him, taking him right back to you or to your home.

Your voice and presence like that of a siren calling to him, luring him in to his doom, your scent keeps him intoxicated and under your spell, though you know not of any of his struggles.

He's your loving and doting boyfriend, though you know something is up with his odd behaviors and getting fussy over your bed, filling your room with various food related items and drinks, while forming your blankets and pillows into a circle.

You awake surrounded, and with the blonde brining you yet another odd shiny item, and cuddling against you with low purrs. You jokingly tell him he must've been replace with a crow for a brain, but he doesn't seem to find it as assuming as you do.

You don't question it, just like you don't question him crawling into your now nest like bed, to leave kisses along your exposed neck. You don't question his needy whine as he slides a cold hand up your loose sleep shirt, cupping your tit in a loving squeeze, as he nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, licking up the collum of your throat.

Silently pleading for your approval.

He can smell your want before even touching your pussy, smell how you're soaking through your panties.

"Adrian...!!" You squeak, but he's moving so fast! It's like a switch flipped in his mind, and all he can think about is ravaging your body, marking you, scenting you, mounting you.

Your panties are gone in a flash with his head buried between your thighs. Your face goes bright red at the sound of him inhaling your heady scent, a smell mixed of your sweat and arousal, it leaves his mind spinning. You toss your head back with a whimper, feeling his inhumanly long tongue rubbing between your folds, licking your clit and then back down to your weeping hole.

It takes everything in him to eat you out first, a sane part of him wanting you at least prepped for the fucking he knows his going to give you. Your pussy twitches watching him hump the bed, just knowing he's so turned on from your own need gets your body hot, your eyes struggling to not roll back just to see how needy he is.

His tongue pushing into you, the pointed tip just brushing relentlessly against your cervix, easily filling you. You grab a hold of his long blonde hair, gripping onto him like a life line as you buck your hips up, trying to grind against his face. His nose pressing perfectly against your clit, letting him easily overwhelm your senses.

"Adrian, Adrian! M'gonna- gonna cum-!!"

You let out a pitiful cry as he rips himself away from you, denying you your orgasm. His face dripping slick and drool, yet he doesn't care, he doesn't even seem to notice. He tears his pants away, tossing the now scraped fabric aside, freeing his aching cock.

You don't get to admire the beautiful sight of him for long before hes already pushing himself into you.

He's usually so much slower, much more loving towards you, but you're excited to see this new feral side of him. It's like you're truly being taken by a monster, just what you've dreamed of.

Alucard's body shakes, his eyes rolling back as he bottoms out, fully sheathed into your warm wet cunt. He doesn't give you a moment to breathe, his hips seemingly having a mind of their own as he ruts into you. Your legs are over his shoulders, with him leaning over you, his hands on either side of your head letting his sharp claw like nails tear into your pillow.

You cling to his biceps, crying out about how good he's making you feel.

"Oohh fuck! Fuck fuck fuuuck! So good, mm, haa! God, you're...you're fucking me so good. Please more, more ruin me!"

The room echoes with the sound of his hips wetly slapping into yours. He can't bare it, you're pleading sends him spiraling, his head feels like it's filled with cotton, he doesn't feel his body twisting and shifting, his form growing larger and larger.

Leathery wings sprouting from his back, curling around you to hide you from the world, his form drawfs you in size. Hands turning more into scaly claws, ripping your pilllow and sheets beneath you. Your eyes widen as the monstrous sight before you as the horns twist on top his head.

But your attention mostly drawn to the pressure in your stomach, feeling his cock growing bigger inside you, matching the new size of him.

You squirm, but with how he has you pinned you can't move.

"Adrain, wait, h-hold on...hnnn! Fuck, t-too big, I can't take it, i-it's too much!"

He grumbles lowly, harshly slamming his cock further into you, his glowing eyes flickering between the new bulge in your stomach and watching how your pussy struggles to accept his new size.

His roar is deafening as you cum, your walls clenching around him desperate to milk him. Your eyes cross, tears streaming down your face. He's fucking your womb, he's so deep!

His long tongue falls frm his open maw, drool dripping onto your chest as he licks it and the sweat off your skin, purring deeply at the taste of you.

His heavy balls smack against your ass, the sheer weight fuck them telling your fucked out mind just how backed up he is, desperate to fill you to the brim.

Cum as many times as you want, he won't be stopping until you take every last drop of his spent.

[piftamere]

part thirty - 24 hours too late (wc : 1.4k ; cw : blood)

sitting on megumi’s bed, his arms are wrapped protectively around your shoulders, your head is resting in the crook of his neck, finding comfort in his scent as he rubs slow, soothing circles on your back. the tears have stopped, replaced by an aching numbness, the only sound in the room is your occasional sniffle.

you wipe your cheek, your voice is a little hoarse and you mumble “i’m sorry… i think your shirt's soaked in tears.”

his hold tightens as he whispers “it’s okay, i don’t mind.”

there’s a beat of silence before he speaks again, “do you want some water?”

you hum in affirmation, your throat sore. “please.”

reluctantly, he untangles himself from you and stands up to get you a glass. he heads toward the kitchen, once he’s out of your sight he exhales deeply, as if he’d been holding his breath since you came home.

your mind drifts, you can’t help but wonder if things somehow got worse since you last checked social media, you look around for your phone but it’s nowhere to be found, so you settle for megumi’s.

weird.

he got a text from kugi a few hours ago. ‘if you don’t tell her today, i will’

tell what? to whom?

you hesitate for a moment before curiosity overcomes you, you unlock his phone to read through his texts with her.

your pulse quickens, a knot forming in your throat. the words seem to blur together, your hands trembling as you piece together the truth. your eyes widen as the realization crashes over you.

it can’t be real.

as you stare, dumbfounded, at the screen, megumi walks through the door “here you-”

“what did you do” your voice is cold, your eyes are piercing through him.

he feels his heart drop, the words are hard to get out “w-what are you talking about?”

“don’t. i saw the texts.” you spit the words out, your tone cutting through the air like a knife.

he shakily puts down the glass on his desk, taking a deep breath before speaking. “i didn’t think- i’m so sorry…”

“you’re sorry??” you get up from the bed, you don’t mean to but you’re already raising your voice. “well, as long as you’re sorry… who cares that the entire world thinks i’m a slut, right?”

his lips tighten into a thin line. “let’s talk about it tomorrow, you’re tired and obviously hungover and- and we’ll both think more clearly after some sleep…” he reaches out, attempting to walk you to your room but you stand your ground.

“no, let’s talk now.” your voice is firm, you cross your arms, waiting for him to speak.

he runs a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words, if there exists any that’ll excuse what he did. he sits down on the bed. “i’m so sorry, i don’t know what crossed my mind. i- i saw you and gojo and i got so angry? it’s blurry i can’t remember clearly, before i knew it, it was done.” as he finishes speaking, he looks up at you, hoping to see you face soften, looking for a hint of understanding in your expression.

“so… it just happened? that’s your explantation? you got mad and now my life is ruined?” he doesn’t respond, his silence a clear admission of guilt and as you speak again your voice cracks “why megumi?”

he sighs, his head in his hands, “fuck.”

that’s not how he thought he would tell you, not how he wanted to tell you. you deserve better than this. when he looks up at you, his are eyes are glistening, tears on the verge of falling. “i- i love you. i’ve loved you for as long as i’ve known you, i’m sure. these past few years, seeing you run around with guys like sukuna, like gojo, who treat you like you’re worth nothing, it drove me crazy.”

your jaw falls slack, it’s everything you’ve wanted to hear, 24 hours too late. you choose to ignore the part where he basically calls you a whore, for now.

“you could’ve just told me.” in a moment of weakness, you cup his cheek, your touch gentle despite the anger boiling under your skin. a few tears fall from his lashes.

“i’m so sorry, please believe me. if i could undo it, i would” he takes a deep breath, his voice breaking. “i tried telling you but you were never available.”

as if you got burned, you pull your hand back. “is that how you see me? not ‘available’? am i an object to you?”

as he wipes his tears, frustration creeps into his tone and he rolls his eyes. “you know that’s not what i meant. and don’t act like you’re so pure.”

“what?” your fists clench at your sides, you want to punch him. you’re pretty sure you’re going to if he doesn’t stop talking.

“look at yourself y/n, your neck is covered in hickeys, you look like a fucking teenager. with gojo? of all people?”

“you wanna talk about my sex life, let’s talk about it.” you’re pacing now, the adrenaline coursing through you makes it hard to contain your rage. “yeah we had sex. cause he has the balls to tell me he likes me.” you pause, your breath coming in sharp, angry gasps. “and you know what? it wasn’t the first time!” you’re looking down on him as you continue, “what are you going to do? tweet it??”

he scoffs, “you’ll really sleep with anyone who gives you the slightest bit of attention. first sukuna, then gojo… are you that insecure? or are you just that easy?” his voice is a harsh, accusatory whisper.

he stands up, pointing his finger at you, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and hurt “who’s next huh? geto? yuta?”

“anyone except you right?” your voice trembles, your eyes are filling with unshed tears yet you can’t help but laugh bitterly. “do you hear yourself right now megumi? and i’m the insecure one?” you push against his chest, hands shaking. his jaw tightens, a muscle twitching in his cheek as he glares down at you.

“you’re so self centered, and such a fucking coward.” the words spill out before you can stop them, before you can think about what you’re actually saying, each one a dagger aimed at his heart. “do you know who you remind me of?” your voice drops to a whisper, laced with venom, you tilt your head up towards his, knowing you’re crossing a line but too blinded by your hurt to care. “you hate him so much but you’re acting just like your father.”

his jaw drops and you can see the pain flash in his eyes. it hits him like a punch to the gut.

deciding you’ve had enough. you turn on your heel to leave, but megumi grabs onto your wrist, his grip desperate despite how hurt he feels. “please, don’t-”

“let me go.” you hiss through gritted teeth, struggling to free yourself, you stumble backward, colliding with his desk chair, knocking it over with a loud crash.

the sudden noise startles you both, making him loosen his grip enough for you to get out of his grasp. the glass he brought earlier drops off the desk and shatters on the ground, shards scattering across the floor. you run off without looking back.

he stands frozen in shock of what just happened. the sound of a door slamming somewhere down the hall brings him back out of his daze. he knows you need time. he knows he’s wrong, knows that he’ll have to find a way to make amends. he’ll never forgive himself if he doesn’t.

too preoccupied by his thoughts, he reaches down to pick up the pieces of the shattered glass, he doesn’t notice the sharp edge until it slices into his palm, “fuck-” he mutters, wincing at the pain as he wraps a shirt around his hand to stop the flow of the blood.

on his way to the bathroom, he walks past your bedroom door, it’s slightly ajar, the crack revealing the emptiness inside. he hesitates, then pushes it open with his uninjured hand.

“y/n?”

the silence is deafening, the drawers are open, half empty, a few lonely hangers lay on the ground. you’re gone, and so is most of your stuff.

he stands there, staring at the mess he made as the blood-soaked shirt drips onto the floor boards below. he swallows thickly, feeling the weight of his mistakes crushing down on him.

[tl:dr : you discover megumi betrayed you, you argue, he confesses his feelings but you're too hurt so you run away.]

fun facts :

blowing smoke by gracie abrams is pretty close to how megumi’s feeling about y/n and gojo

toji was absent in megumi’s life until he died when megumi was in his early teens, toji was an addict and neglected him for most of his life. megumi resents him a lot for it.

maki was a little surprised that y/n went to her and not megumi but she knows y/n will explain why when she's ready

author's note

i’m sorry 😁😁 i promise i do love megumi

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ tugging on heartstrings ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

as an aspiring solo artist, you dream of making it big in the music industry. With your talent and unwavering determination, you find yourself entangled in a web of romantic pursuits amidst rumors and betrayal. Will you emerge unscathed and manage to navigate your love life in the chaos of fame?

Part thirty - Next

rbs and interactions are highly appreciated <3

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if you're name is crossed out i couldn't tag you, if it's not fixed in a week i'll remove you sorry :(

[lila-lou]

✨His true fate - Part 11/?✨

Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Language, age gap, some slightly spicy scenes

Word Count: 6296

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

As you hung up the phone, the ache of missing him was still there, but it was overshadowed by the hope and reassurance his words had brought. You knew that the next two months would be a test, but one you were ready to face together.

After spending over three hours cleaning your apartment to distract yourself, you finally collapsed into bed, utterly exhausted. Sleep claimed you within seconds, and you missed the message Jensen sent just minutes after you drifted off.

Meanwhile, Jensen arrived at his house in Connecticut. Stepping out of the cab, he took a deep breath, feeling a flood of emotions. The surroundings brought anxiety as he mentally prepared for what awaited him inside.

Entering through the front door, he was greeted by the lively sounds of his children still awake. JJ spotted him first and ran towards him with a wide grin, exclaiming, “Daddy!”. She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, her excitement palpable.

Jensen’s heart warmed as he bent down to scoop her up into a warm hug. “Hey, sweetheart”, he said softly, planting a kiss on her forehead. “I missed you”.

Arrow and Zeppelin hung back a bit, their expressions more reserved. They had always been closer to their mother, especially since they noticed the special bond between Jensen and JJ. Sensing their hesitation, Jensen extended his hand towards them with a welcoming smile.

“Come here, you two”, he encouraged gently. “I missed you guys too”.

After a moment’s hesitation, Arrow cautiously stepped forward, followed by Zeppelin. They approached him tentatively, and Jensen knelt down to their level, JJ still holding onto his side. He tousled Zeppelin’s hair affectionately and gave Arrow a reassuring pat on the back.

“How have my little ones been?”, he asked warmly, trying to bridge the gap between them.

“We’ve been good”, Zeppelin replied softly, looking up at his father with a small smile. “Mom made us pancakes for dinner”.

Jensen chuckled softly. “Pancakes for dinner? That sounds delicious”.

Just then, Danneel stepped into the room, her arms crossed and a stern expression on her face. Jensen’s jaw clenched slightly as he braced himself for her reaction. She had just hung up a call, and her frustration was evident.

“You should have called me”, Danneel said tersely, her voice tinged with irritation. “Letting me know you’re on your way from the airport”.

Jensen sighed inwardly, knowing this was a conversation they often circled back to. “I’m sorry”, he replied evenly, trying to keep his tone neutral. “It was a long flight, and I wanted to get home to see the kids”.

Danneel’s expression softened slightly, but her frustration lingered. “It’s not just about that, Jensen”, she said, her voice lowering to a more subdued tone. “Communication is important. We talked about this”.

Jensen felt the weight of Danneel’s words, knowing all too well the underlying tensions in their strained marriage. They had grown apart over the years, the love they once shared now replaced by a mutual understanding of their roles. Danneel, focused on maintaining their image and the financial stability Jensen provided, often ignored the emotional disconnect between them.

“Yeah, communication”, Jensen muttered under his breath, his tone tinged with frustration as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I know”.

Danneel’s lips tightened into a thin line, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Jensen’s jaw clenched again, his gaze hardening as he met her eyes. They had danced around this conversation too many times, neither willing to confront the reality of their failing marriage head-on. He knew Danneel’s priorities lay elsewhere, and their interactions had become strained, devoid of the warmth and affection they once shared.

“We have responsibilities”, she stated firmly, her voice steady despite the tension between them. “And I intend to uphold mine”.

Jensen sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. “Yeah, I know”, he murmured.

Without another word, he pulled off his jacket and hung it up, then grabbed his bag, turning towards the stairs. Danneel watched him with narrowed eyes, her arms still crossed.

“Where are you going?”, she asked sharply.

“Unpacking”, Jensen grumbled, not bothering to look back at her as he started up the stairs.

But Danneel wasn’t having it. She followed him, her footsteps echoing in the quiet house. “We’re not done talking”, she insisted, her voice filled with frustration.

“There’s nothing more to say, Danneel”, he replied, trying to keep his tone even. “We’ve had this conversation too many times”.

As they reached the top of the stairs, Jensen turned towards his room. Even in the new house, he had insisted on having his own space, much like the setup they had in Austin. The strain in their marriage had grown too great for him to share a bed with her anymore.

Danneel followed him into his room, her frustration clear in her eyes. “You can’t just walk away every time things get tough”, she said, her voice trembling slightly with anger. “We need to deal with this”.

Jensen dropped his bag onto the floor and turned to face her, his own anger simmering beneath the surface. “Deal with what, Danneel? The fact that we’re living a lie? That we’re pretending everything’s fine for the sake of appearances?”.

Danneel’s face hardened, her eyes flashing with defiance. “We have responsibilities, Jensen. To our family, to our image. You can’t just run away from that”.

“I’m not running away”, Jensen shot back, his voice rising. “I’m facing reality. Our marriage is over, Danneel. It’s been over for a long time. We’re just going through the motions”.

Her silence was heavy, and for a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of their words hanging in the air.

“You’re right”, she finally said, her voice low and bitter. “But that doesn’t mean we can just give up. We have to keep up appearances, for the kids, for everything we’ve built”.

Jensen ran a hand through his hair, feeling the exhaustion of their ongoing battle. “I’m tired, Danneel. Tired of pretending. Tired of living a lie”.

“And what do you propose?”, she asked, her tone icy. “Just throw it all away?”.

“I don’t know”, Jensen admitted, his voice softening. “But we can’t keep going on like this”.

Jensen began to sort his clothes out of his bag, throwing his phone onto the bed and starting to undress, not bothering that Danneel was still in the room. He was too exhausted to care about propriety at this point.

Danneel’s eyes flashed with anger as she watched him. “I told you before, Jensen”, she snapped, her voice sharp and cutting. “There’s no way you’re going to make me the poor, stupid ex-wife who was left”.

Jensen paused, his shirt halfway off, and looked at her, frustration evident in his eyes. “This isn’t about making you look bad, Danneel. It’s about being honest about what we’ve become”.

As he pulled off his shirt completely, Danneel’s gaze zeroed in on his back. The faint, red marks—cuts that had to heal—caught her attention.

“What the hell are those?”, she demanded, her voice trembling with fury.

Jensen turned to follow her gaze, his confusion quickly turning to realization as he remembered the intensity of his time with you. “It’s nothing”, he said defensively, quickly turning back to his bag.

“Nothing?”, Danneel scoffed, taking a step closer. “Those look like scratch marks, Jensen. Who did that?”.

Jensen’s jaw clenched, and he threw the shirt he was holding onto the bed. “It’s none of your business”, he said coldly.

Danneel’s face hardened, her anger boiling over. “It is my business when you come home with marks like that“.

Jensen took a deep breath, trying to keep his temper in check. “You seem to forget that you were the one who had an affair first”, he reminded her, his voice steady but laced with bitterness. “Years ago. And we agreed not to talk about who we’re seeing. We both know this marriage has been over for a long time”.

Danneel’s eyes flashed with indignation. “That was different, Jensen. You didn’t seem to care then, and you certainly never showed up with marks like that”.

“Different?”, Jensen scoffed. “We’ve both had our affairs, Danneel. You set the precedent, and I followed. But I never flaunted it because I respected our arrangement. Until now, I haven’t seen anyone for months”.

Danneel’s expression shifted from anger to something resembling hurt. “You didn’t have to make it so obvious”, she said quietly.

Jensen sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to make anything obvious. It just happened”.

“Who is she?”, Danneel asked, her voice softer but still edged with tension.

Jensen shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we both know where we stand”.

Danneel’s expression hardened again, a sharp edge returning to her voice. “Your new bitch better keep her mouth shut for her own sake”, she snapped, her eyes flashing with anger.

Jensen felt his own temper flare. “Don’t you dare call her that”, he said through gritted teeth. “She’s got nothing to do with this mess we’ve made. This is between you and me”.

“Well, then she better stay out of it”, Danneel retorted. “I won’t have my life turned upside down because of your midlife crisis”.

Jensen took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “This isn’t a midlife crisis, Danneel. This is me finally admitting that I can’t live like this anymore. We can’t keep pretending”.

Danneel crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her posture defensive. “Don´t expect me to roll over and play nice just because you decided to grow a conscience”.

Jensen waved her off, looking more than annoyed. He turned his back to her and grabbed a fresh shirt from his bag, dressing in something more comfortable. His movements were tense, filled with frustration.

“I’m so done with all this shit”, he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible but dripping with anger. “I can’t even stand to see your fucking face anymore”.

Danneel’s eyes narrowed, her anger flaring again at his words. “Oh, believe me, the feeling is mutual”, she snapped back.

Jensen’s eyes were still burning with frustration as he pulled on his fresh shirt. He didn’t even bother to look at Danneel, who was standing there with her arms crossed, her own face flushed with anger. The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife.

Just then, the door creaked open, and JJ stepped inside, holding up a board game. Her bright eyes were filled with hope and excitement, completely unaware of the storm brewing between her parents. “Can we play this game?”, she asked, her voice innocent and eager.

Jensen and Danneel both turned to look at their daughter, their anger momentarily eclipsed by the sight of her. Jensen felt a pang of guilt twist in his chest. He forced a smile, trying to hide the turmoil inside. “Sure", he said, his voice gentler. “Which game did you pick?”.

JJ’s face lit up with a huge smile as she held up the game box. “Monopoly!”, she announced, her enthusiasm contagious.

Danneel took a deep breath, smoothing her expression into something resembling calm. “Of course, JJ”, she said, stepping closer and placing a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Let’s go set it up in the living room”.

JJ beamed, oblivious to the undercurrents of tension between her parents. “Yay! It’s going to be so much fun!”.

As they followed JJ out of the room, Jensen and Danneel exchanged a brief, weary glance. The facade of normalcy had to be maintained, at least for their daughter’s sake. They knew they had to put their differences aside, if only for a little while, to give her the sense of family she deserved.

As JJ eagerly set up the board game with Arrow and Zeppelin, Jensen slipped into the kitchen. He reached for a bottle of whiskey, knowing it was the only way he’d get through the long game ahead. Pouring a generous amount into a mug, he took a deep breath and braced himself for the evening.

With his mug in hand, Jensen settled at the table, watching his kids as they prepared for the game. He pulled out his phone, the urge to connect with you too strong to resist. Quickly, he typed out a message: “I wish I was still lying with you in your bed. Missing you”.

Unbeknownst to him, you were already asleep, the exhaustion of the day having taken its toll. Sighing deeply, Jensen put his phone away and focused on the scene before him. JJ was distributing the Monopoly money with great enthusiasm, her excitement infectious despite the underlying tension.

Danneel, never one to miss a chance to uphold their facade, snapped a picture of the five of them around the game. “Everyone smile”, she instructed, her voice strained as she tried to maintain a cheerful tone.

Jensen forced a smile, his jaw clenched as he looked at the camera. “Fucking smile, Jensen!”, Danneel hissed under her breath, her eyes narrowing at him.

He plastered on a wider grin, feeling the bitterness rise within him. The camera clicked, capturing the image of a seemingly happy family for Danneel’s Instagram followers. The picture was a stark contrast to the reality of their strained relationship.

With the obligatory photo out of the way, JJ handed out the last of the Monopoly money and took her place at the table. “Okay, who’s going to be the banker?”, she asked, her eyes bright with excitement.

“I’ll do it”, Jensen volunteered, wanting to distract himself from his thoughts. “Nothing different from my real role here”, he muttered under his breath and Danneel shot him a sharp glance.

“Just play the game, Jensen”, she said tersely, her voice barely concealing her irritation.

Jensen forced another smile, taking the stack of Monopoly money and organizing it. “Alright, let’s get this started”, he said, trying to infuse some enthusiasm into his voice for the kids’ sake.

The game began, and for a while, the room was filled with the sounds of dice rolling, money changing hands, and playful banter between the children. JJ, Arrow, and Zeppelin were completely engrossed in the game, their laughter and excitement a temporary balm for the underlying tension between their parents.

Jensen took a sip from his whiskey mug, feeling the warmth spread through him. It helped to dull the edges of his frustration, allowing him to focus more on the game and less on the strained dynamics with Danneel.

As the game progressed, JJ landed on one of Jensen’s properties and groaned dramatically. “Dad, you’re making me go bankrupt!”, she exclaimed, her eyes wide with mock horror.

Jensen chuckled, enjoying the moment of levity. “That’s the game, sweetheart. You’ll get me back next time”.

Danneel, despite the tension, managed to keep up her role, interacting with the kids and playing her part in the game. For a brief moment, the room felt almost normal, like the family they used to be.

Hours passed, and the game finally drew to a close. Arrow and Zeppelin yawned, their energy waning as the evening wore on.

“Alright, time for bed”, Jensen said gently, gathering up the game pieces. “We’ll play again another time”.

The kids groaned in unison but complied, shuffling off to their rooms with tired smiles. Jensen and Danneel tidied up the living room in silence, the earlier tensions resurfacing as the facade of family game night faded away.

Once the kids were settled, Jensen returned to his room, the weight of the evening pressing down on him. He checked his phone again, seeing no response from you. With a heavy heart, he lay down on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Jensen lay awake for about an hour, thoughts of you swirling incessantly through his mind. The weight of recent events and his complicated emotions had kept sleep at bay, leaving him restless and contemplative. As he stared at the ceiling in the dimly lit room, the soft creak of the door pulled him from his reverie.

JJ stood hesitantly in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the faint light filtering in from the hallway. It had been a while since she struggled to sleep, and tonight, her restlessness had brought her to her father’s door. She peered into the room, uncertainty etched on her face, before softly asking, “Daddy? Are you awake?”.

Startled from his thoughts, Jensen turned to see JJ standing there, her presence both comforting and unexpected. Despite his own inner turmoil, he managed a warm smile for her. “Yeah, sweetheart, I’m awake”, he replied softly, his voice carrying reassurance.

JJ hesitated for a moment longer, then shuffled closer to the bed, her small figure moving with caution. Jensen could see the unease in her eyes, and he silently beckoned her to come closer. “Come here”, he said gently, patting the space beside him on the bed.

JJ tiptoed across the room and climbed onto the bed, curling up next to her father. She nestled into his side, seeking comfort in his familiar presence. Jensen wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her close as they lay together in the quiet of the room.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”, Jensen asked softly, his voice filled with concern.

JJ sighed. “I don’t know, Daddy”, she murmured. “Sometimes I get scared at night, and I can’t sleep”.

Jensen tightened his embrace, offering her silent support. "It's okay to feel scared", he reassured her. "Everyone feels that way sometimes".

"I know", JJ whispered, her voice barely audible. "But it helps when you're here".

Jensen pressed a kiss to the top of her head, feeling a swell of love and protectiveness for his daughter. "I'll always be here for you, JJ", he promised quietly. "You can come to me anytime you need".

JJ nestled closer, drawing comfort from his steady presence. For a few moments, they lay in silence, the gentle rise and fall of their breathing creating a calming rhythm. The stillness of the room wrapped around them like a warm blanket, easing some of the tension that had gripped Jensen’s mind.

“What do you think about when you can’t sleep, Daddy?”, JJ asked after a while, her curiosity breaking the silence.

Jensen smiled softly, though it was tinged with a hint of sadness. “I think about a lot of things, sweetheart. About work, about making sure everyone is happy and safe”.

JJ looked up at him, her eyes wide and earnest. “Do you think about happy things too?”.

Jensen nodded, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “I do. I think about the times we spend together, like playing games or going on trips. I think about the people who make me happy”.

JJ’s face brightened a little. “Like Mommy?”.

Jensen hesitated, his smile faltering briefly. “Yes, like Mommy”, he said, his voice steady. “And also my friends, and you, of course”.

JJ seemed satisfied with his answer and settled back down against him. “I think about you too, Daddy. When I get scared, I think about you and it makes me feel better”.

Jensen felt a lump form in his throat, touched by his daughter’s words. “I’m glad, JJ. That’s what dads are for, to help make the scary things less scary”.

They lay together in the quiet room, Jensen’s mind gradually calming as he focused on the simple, pure connection with his daughter.

As JJ’s breathing evened out, indicating she had finally drifted off to sleep, Jensen closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax.

The next morning, when Jensen woke up, he immediately noticed that JJ was already gone. The space beside him was empty and the room was filled with the early morning light filtering through the curtains. He rubbed his eyes and reached for his phone on the nightstand, feeling the familiar weight of sleep still clinging to him.

As he blinked at the screen, a message notification caught his eye. It was from you. His heart quickened as he read your words: “I definitely didn’t sleep as well as I did in your arms yesterday”.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, warmth spreading through him at the thought of you.

He quickly typed a response: ”Same here. Any plans for today?“.

Setting his phone aside, Jensen got out of bed and dressed for the day, feeling a bit more positive after reading your message. As he made his way downstairs, he was greeted by the sounds of his children laughing and playing.

In the kitchen, JJ, Arrow, and Zeppelin were already eating breakfast. Danneel was there too, her expression neutral but calm. She glanced up as Jensen entered, a brief nod serving as their morning greeting.

“Morning, Daddy!”, JJ called out, her face lighting up with a smile. “We’re having pancakes!”.

Jensen smiled back, the sight of his children bringing a sense of normalcy. “Morning, everyone. Pancakes sound great”.

As Jensen ate breakfast with his family, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He discreetly checked it under the table and saw your reply: “Just need to get groceries and probably hitting the gym”.

He bit his tongue, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he typed out his response: “How much time do you actually spend at the gym? Because your ass says a lot”.

Jensen hit send, chuckling quietly to himself. He looked up to see JJ watching him with a curious expression. “What’s so funny, Daddy?”, she asked, her eyes wide with interest.

“Just a silly joke”, Jensen replied, ruffling her hair.

JJ giggled, accepting his explanation as she turned back to her pancakes. Jensen felt another buzz from his phone and glanced down to see your response: “Glad you noticed! I spend what feels like half my life there, lol”.

“Trust me, it’s hard not to notice”, he typed back. After a brief hesitation, he added, “Can’t wait to see that ass in person again“.

As you read Jensen’s message, a playful smirk formed on your lips. His boldness was both thrilling and enticing, bringing back vivid memories of the passionate night you shared together.

“Careful now, Mr. Ackles”, you replied.

Jensen’s phone buzzed with your message, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. He quickly typed back, “We both know you don’t want me to be careful“.

Your heart skipped a beat at his boldness, your cheeks flushing even more. “Is that so? What makes you so sure?”, you replied, playing along.

Jensen’s grin widened as he recalled the night you shared. “Oh, I seem to remember you begging me to go harder… several times”, he typed.

You bit your lip, remembering just how intense and incredible that night had been. “Maybe I just wanted to see if you could keep up”, you teased back.

Jensen’s phone buzzed again, and he couldn’t suppress the smirk forming on his lips. He quickly typed back, “Oh, I just know you’re still sore because of me. Am I right?”.

Your breath hitched as you read his message. He was right; you were still feeling the delicious ache from his attentions. But you couldn’t resist teasing him a bit more.

“Maybe just a little”, you replied coyly.

“Just a little? I must be losing my touch”, he typed, his fingers moving quickly over the screen.

You laughed softly, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Oh, you haven’t lost a thing. Trust me. My body is still recovering”, you responded.

Jensen felt a surge of satisfaction at your words. “Good to know. Next time, I’ll make sure you can’t walk straight for days”.

You blushed deeply, the anticipation building within you. “Promises, promises”, you replied. “You better be ready to back them up”.

“Oh, I am”, Jensen texted confidently. “And I can’t wait to remind you just how good I am at keeping my promises”.

Your heart fluttered at his words. “Then hurry up and clear your schedule, Mr. Ackles. I’m counting the days”.

Jensen smiled, feeling a renewed sense of excitement and determination. “I’m on it. See you soon”.

Jensen set his phone aside, still smiling from the playful exchange with you. As he turned his attention back to his surroundings, he noticed Danneel eying him from the side. Her expression was unreadable, but she didn’t say anything, choosing instead to focus on her own tasks.

The rest of the day, Jensen spent for himself, finding a quiet corner in the house to dive into his work. He picked up the script for “The Boys” Season 5, immersing himself in the world of his character. It was a welcome distraction, giving him something productive to focus on amid the emotional turbulence of his personal life.

Occasionally, his thoughts drifted back to you. He found himself reading the same line of the script more than once.

As evening came, the house grew quiet. The kids were asleep, and Danneel had gone out with friends. Jensen found himself with some rare, uninterrupted time. He decided to take advantage of it. Putting in his AirPods, he settled into a comfortable chair and opened his phone, navigating to your contact. He hesitated for a moment, hoping you’d still be awake, before initiating a video call.

The call connected, and after a few rings, your face appeared on the screen, framed by the soft light of your room. The sight of you brought an immediate smile to Jensen’s face.

“Hey”, you greeted warmly, your eyes lighting up at the sight of him. “I wasn’t expecting a call this late”.

“Hey”, Jensen replied, his voice filled with genuine affection. “I just needed to see you. It’s been a long day”.

You settled back, getting more comfortable as you adjusted your phone. “I’m glad you called. How are things on your end?”.

Jensen sighed, the weight of the day briefly evident in his expression. He hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words.

Before he could answer, you spoke softly, your concern evident. “Is it about your wife?”.

Jensen looked at you, appreciating your understanding and concern. “Yeah”, he admitted, running a hand through his hair.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the twinge of jealousy that bubbled up despite Jensen’s reassurances about his marriage. He had been clear that there was no love between him and his wife, and they maintained a facade for appearances. Yet, seeing him burdened by the complexities of his family life stirred conflicting emotions within you.

“I understand”, you replied softly, your voice tinged with empathy. “It must be really hard”.

Jensen nodded, his eyes reflecting gratitude for your understanding. “It is”, he admitted, his voice heavy with the weight of his responsibilities. “I wish it were different”.

You sighed softly, feeling a mix of emotions as you looked at Jensen. “I just want to cheer you up”, you said gently. “What can I do?”.

Jensen’s eyes softened at your words, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Just talking to you helps”, he admitted. “But honestly, hearing about your day, your life—it distracts me from all this”.

You nodded, a warm smile spreading across your face. “Well, let’s see”, you began, settling into a more comfortable position. “Today was pretty uneventful, but I did have a funny moment at the gym”.

Jensen leaned in, his interest piqued. “Oh? Do tell”.

You chuckled softly, recalling the moment. “So, I was in the shower after my workout, just minding my own business”, you began, “and I slipped on some soap. Now I’ve got this huge bruise down my rib”.

Jensen’s mouth dropped open, his eyes wide with concern. “That’s not fucking funny”, he said, shaking his head. “Are you okay? That sounds really painful”.

You nodded, trying to downplay it. “Yeah, it was more embarrassing than anything. I mean, it hurts, but I’ll be fine. Just a reminder to be more careful”.

You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “Do you want to see it?”, you asked playfully, teasing a bit to shift his concern to something lighter.

Jensen’s eyes widened further, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You’re offering to show me your bruise? How could I say no?”, he replied, his tone a mix of amusement and curiosity.

You adjusted your camera and lifted your shirt slightly to reveal the dark bruise on your rib. “See? Not so bad”, you said, trying to sound nonchalant, even though the bruise looked quite painful.

Jensen winced in sympathy. “Ouch. That does look pretty bad”, he said softly. “I hope it heals quickly”.

“It will”, you assured him. “I’ve had worse". But the bruise really was huge, covering nearly your whole ribcage.

“How can someone fall this bad in a stupid shower and end up with such a huge bruise?”, he asked, shaking his head in amazement.

“That’s me for you”, you said with a light-hearted shrug. “I manage to turn the most mundane activities into a catastrophe”.

Jensen smiled, though the worry in his eyes hadn’t completely faded. “You’ve got to be more careful. I don’t want you getting hurt”.

You nodded, appreciating his concern. “I will“.

Jensen’s grin widened, a playful glint in his eyes. “How about you lift your shirt a bit more?”, he asked teasingly.

You laughed, rolling your eyes at his cheeky request. “Oh, really? Is that how it’s going to be?”, you replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Just a little bit”, he said, his tone light and mischievous. “I need to make sure you didn’t hurt anything else”.

You shook your head, but couldn’t help but smile at his playful demeanor. “Alright, but just a bit”, you said.

As you lifted your shirt a little higher, revealing the swell of your breasts, Jensen’s eyes darkened with desire. He noticed you weren’t wearing a bra, and the sight teased him even more. His breath hitched slightly, and he swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure.

“Maybe a bit more”, he mumbled huskily, his voice low and filled with longing.

You could see the effect you had on him, and it sent a thrill through you. You bit your lip, considering his request. “Just a little more?”, you teased, enjoying the way his gaze lingered on you.

“Please”, he whispered, his eyes locked on yours, filled with anticipation.

Slowly, you inched your shirt up a little higher, stopping just before your nipples could show. The tension between you was palpable, the air thick with anticipation.

“A little more”, he urged softly, his voice a husky whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

You could feel your pulse quicken at his request, the playful teasing giving way to a more intimate desire. “Just a bit?”, you asked, your own voice barely above a whisper, wanting to prolong the moment.

“Just a bit”, he confirmed, his eyes dark with longing.

With a deep breath, you lifted your shirt just enough to reveal the peaks of your nipples, feeling the thrill of baring yourself to him, even through the screen.

Jensen’s reaction was immediate—his eyes widened, and he let out a low groan of appreciation as his gaze drank in the sight of you. He could feel his dick stiffen in his sweatpants just from the sight of your skin. The intensity of his desire for you was almost overwhelming.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me”, he murmured, his voice rough with need, his eyes never leaving your exposed skin.

You felt a thrill at his words, the power you had over him making you feel bold and desired. “Maybe I do”, you teased, your voice soft and sultry.

Jensen shifted slightly, his arousal evident as he adjusted himself to get more comfortable. “Fuck, you’re perfect”, he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

"I think you need to touch yourself for me”, he added, his tone husky.

Your breath hitched at his words. Slowly, you let your fingers glide up your torso, feeling the heat of your skin as you moved closer to your breasts. Your eyes remained locked on Jensen’s, his gaze dark and hungry.

Gently, you teased the peaks of your nipples, feeling the sensation ripple through you. “Like this?”, you asked softly, your voice trembling with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Jensen groaned, his eyes never leaving your movements. “Yes, just like that”, he murmured.

As he shifted slightly to adjust his erection, his eyes dark and filled with desire, you slowly pulled your shirt back down, a teasing grin spreading across your face.

“Fucking tease”, Jensen muttered, his voice a mix of frustration and amusement.

You chuckled softly, enjoying the power you had over him. “Maybe I am”, you replied, your voice playful. “But I think you like it”.

Jensen’s smile broadened, and he shook his head slightly. “You have no idea”, he said, his voice low and filled with longing. “But now you’ve left me wanting more”.

Jensen continued to stroke his dick, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity in his gaze made your heart race, a mixture of power and desire coursing through you.

“You think it’s funny to leave me like this?”, Jensen asked, his voice rough with a mixture of amusement and frustration.

You grinned, enjoying the playful tension between you. “Maybe”, you teased, your voice soft and seductive. “But I think you can handle it”.

“Oh, I can handle it”, he said, his eyes dark with promise. “But you’re going to pay for this next time we’re together”.

You yawned tiredly, feeling the exhaustion from the day catching up with you. Despite the playful tension, you couldn’t suppress another yawn. “I’m sure counting on it”, you replied, your voice soft and teasing but laced with fatigue.

Jensen chuckled softly, the sound warm and affectionate. “You look like you need to get some sleep”, he said, his tone gentle. “We can continue this another time”.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his concern. “Yeah, I think I do”, you admitted. “But I’ll be dreaming about what you’re going to do to me”.

Jensen’s eyes sparkled with a mix of affection and desire. “Sweet dreams, then”, he murmured.

You ended the call, feeling a sense of contentment despite the longing. Taking a deep breath, you turned around in bed, your head sinking into the pillow that still carried Jensen’s faint scent.

Meanwhile, on Jensen’s end, he sat back in his chair, the air thick with desire and frustration. His erection throbbed beneath his sweatpants, a reminder of the arousal you had stoked in him. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily as he tried to calm his racing thoughts.

Sleep seemed out of the question now, his mind consumed with images of you, your voice still echoing in his ears. He contemplated calling you back, but he knew it was late and you needed rest. Instead, he leaned back, closing his eyes and letting his hand slip beneath his waistband once more, giving in to the overwhelming need to relieve the tension you had ignited in him.

He closed his eyes, letting his imagination take over. He pictured you lying in bed, your fingers teasing your nipples as you had done during the call, your soft moans filling his ears. The memory of your playful teasing and the sight of your body fueled his arousal, each stroke bringing him closer to the edge.

His hand moved with a deliberate rhythm, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through his body. He imagined the feel of your skin against his, the heat of your body as you pressed against him. His breaths came faster, each one a ragged gasp as he lost himself in the fantasy.

Jensen's mind conjured images of you beneath him, your body arching with need, your lips parting in a breathless moan as he touched you. He could almost feel the softness of your skin, the way you would respond to his every touch, the way your body would tremble as he brought you to the brink of ecstasy.

His strokes became more urgent, his body tensing with the building pleasure. He imagined the moment he would finally be inside you, the heat and tightness enveloping him as he thrust deeper, your moans growing louder with each movement. The thought of your pleasure, the look of ecstasy on your face, pushed him closer to his release.

With a final, shuddering breath, Jensen's body tensed, and he let out a low groan as he climaxed, the pleasure washing over him in waves. His hand moved slowly, milking every last drop of pleasure as he rode out his orgasm. The tension that had gripped him finally began to ease, leaving him breathless and spent.

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A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

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Part 12

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