#I can understand not being as into female pop or whatever

[unnursvanablog]

do you ever just go to a kdrama meetups and events irl (they are hard to come by) and the people there talk about that they isn’t enough strong female characters and you are just sitting there going all ????? because a). you can easily do a week worth of dedicated posts about some of the amazing female characters in kdramas and their complexity despite how often their genres and the society they are written for wants to put them in a box on your blog. But also b). you hate the term ‘strong female character’ because we never talk about male characters that way. They are just interesting or not. And that’s also what female characters should be. Interesting and complex with agency in stories. And they often get sidelined in the stories... but also from the largely female audience of those shows who don’t really care as much about them as the hot male lead. And there is such a strong need for female characters to be likeable no matter what which can hinder them from truly being too complex, while we can watch the same asshole architype in male characters but are just misunderstood and interesting.

also as a writer who has been told more than once that a female character of mine is just not likeable enough and I should fix that, this annoys me. Fuck strong female characters, that does not make them interesting and being stoic  instead of emotional isn't necessarily better, and fuck making all female characters so likeable that they can't do anything. Make them complex, flawed and unlikeable, even if it makes the audience agitated because the female character isn't likeable or sidelined for the sake of everyone's else’s stories or so the audience can insert themselves into them, as a blank slate. 

The writer can lay the groundwork for why the female character is acting the way she is, but the audience will complain that she is being mean to the cute male lead. It’s a bit more complex and complicated than just ‘kdramas don’t have enough strong characters’ that needs to be examined. Like the bias of the audience and the expectations that the wants of the audience have molded over the years. 

But you don’t say anything, because you are non-confrontational and don’t want to speak over the people who are actually speaking and this level of public speaking makes you anxious. 

#kdrama rant #but hey... that person had also been into kpop since 2016 and didn't really listen to ANY girl groups #which honestly is a red flag for me at this point #I can understand not being as into female pop or whatever #but not really enjoy any kpop girl group or just never bothering to look into any of them #I am a girl group stan... but it's not like I don't enjoy certain songs by txt or exo or winner or heaps of other kpop bgs #I am sorry but I don't think you could be into like... american popmusic and not really like any female singer #but hey maybe I am just obnoxious with my adoration and whatnot for girl groups and female characters #some of you just consume korean content for the cute men and it so very shows and honestly I sometimes get very tired of it #but of course it's more complex and varied than that as well #and it's not just korean media... but just all media

[ozzgin]

“Do you mean it in the sense that Reader goes through monster boyfriends and is quick to dump them for the next catch”

Yep. Just a vile reader who’s breaking hearts left and right. I think you’ll write it beautifully if you channel your evil side like when you play the sims! ☺️

-👘

Yandere! Monsters x Heartbreaker! Reader

You've always been a free spirit, unable to settle on a single partner. Even after being abruptly transported into a different dimension where you are the only human surrounded by monsters, this habit of yours has persisted. Except monsters, as you will see, are harder to discard than humans. They aren't as willing to accept rejection.

Content: female reader, reader is a player, monster smut

Ah, how troublesome. He won't stop calling. You lazily pick up the phone and look for the options to block the number, clicking your tongue in irritation. You'd specifically told him you're not interested in anything serious. "Who's calling?" The man shuffles under the sheets, still half-asleep. "No one." You respond curtly, glaring at the intruder. "It's morning already, by the way. When are you leaving?"

You slam the door shut before the overnight guest can bring up the classic "Will I see you again", and exhale theatrically in relief. Finally alone again. You look up and shake your fist menacingly, as if whichever entity governing this world is responsible for your bad luck. You've always been utterly indifferent towards committed relationships, and yet most fuck buddies end up head over heels for you, dragging themselves at your feet like pitiful beggars. Pathetic and a pain in the ass to deal with.

Well, someone must be up there, because your situation feels too much like a sassy answer to your complaint. You've just rushed out of your apartment a moment ago and last time you checked, the concierge office wasn't on a rocky hill covered in deep cracks erupting with lava, stretching out into the seemingly unending horizon. Where the hell are you? You turn on your heels, reaching for the door, only to find out - who would've expected? - that it's gone. Great. Your immediate explanation is that the guy you've mistakenly brought home last night must've slipped something in your drinks. All this for a sloppy, clumsy eating out.

The worry of being drugged vanishes quickly once the first creatures of the realm appear. Hard to believe anything on the market could cause such detailed hallucinations that can sniff and touch you: Some alligator-looking minions with eyes popping out of their backs slid out of a nearby crevice to investigate the newcomer. Ironically enough, they seem to be the ones shocked by your appearance. Once they've hesitantly assessed your presence, they scurry aside to discuss their findings. "What could it be?" You hear one mumble, completely baffled. For whatever reason you can understand their language, so you decide to speed up their detective work. "Ever heard of human?" You shout, with a hint of sarcasm in your voice. The beasts gasp in unison. "Nonsense! Straight out of a children's tale!"

Eventually, after a lot of confusion and pointed fingers, you manage to figure out your predicament. You've somehow landed in a world of monsters, where humans are more of a fictional, mythical existence. Thankfully they don't seem to consider your potential as food, though you're not sure if the sudden, massive ambush of creatures is any better. The alligator-like quadrupeds brought you to the nearest settlement and had to form a barrier to stop the curious beasts from almost trampling you in their frenzy to see "the human". You've garnered ridiculous amounts of attention, yet such reaction is to be expected; how often would an earthling wander into their world? It could very well be a lifetime singularity for many.

As the days pass and you become more accustomed to your fate, you begin to feel that familiar calling. It doesn't look like you'll be going home anytime soon and a lady has her needs. Additionally, whatever popularity you had back in the human world is a minuscule fraction of what you're currently experiencing here. In the eyes of the monsters, you're an exotic treat that cannot be refused. It shouldn't be too hard to find yourself a partner, or two. Or three. Who keeps count nowadays?

You remember stumbling upon a postcard print of "The Dream of the Fisherman's Wife" at some museum shop. You immediately picked up the thick cardboard, eyeing the artwork in amusement. A woman enveloped in the limbs of two octopuses and very obviously enjoying herself. Who even came up with the pairing, you wondered at the time. Whatever the artist was thinking, you can certainly see his point now. The first one to receive your indecent proposal was an eldritch creature of sorts, something straight out of Lovecraft's lucid dreams. Dark, long tendrils sprawling out of an amorphous core - which you assume is its head based on the bulging, glistening orbs hungrily staring at you. Your whole body is throbbing under the tight hold of the slippery tentacles, wrapping around you in masterful intricacy. You could see the result featured in a bondage magazine, though you don't...can't ponder much on it given the fact you're, well, stuffed with monstrous appendages. You doubt any genital variation back home could compare. The monster is even polite enough to occasionally wipe away the continuous stream of drool spilling out of your whining mouth. Towards the end you barely have a voice anymore, throat sore from the loud moans and merciless constriction. Your muscles contract all at once, overwhelmed by the sensations. Whatever sensitive areas you might have are presently aching under the needy fondling of the creature.

Mind-blowing. The memory is enough to have you wet and squirming with desire. Even more so when you consider the other varieties of monsters ready to fuck you senseless. Soon enough you're surveying the neighborhood for the ideal suitors and thankfully you don't have to worry about making wrong choices, as there's always a next target. Thus the following weeks fill you with a particular kind of nostalgia (among other things and fluids), reminding you of the bed-hopping in the human realm. From werewolves drowning out your whimpers with their desperate howling, to hooved legs of hybrids violently thrusting into you until you're a dripping mess. "Look at me" is what one of the beasts demanded in a low growl, turning you on with its ragged voice and clawed hand encircling your frail neck. Although you had to ask it where exactly to look, given it was covered entirely in eyes.

You yawn and stare at the ceiling, reminiscing about the depraved fuckfest you're currently recovering from. You might've overdone it with the last one. Alas, you came enough times to make up for it. Just as you turn around to readjust the ice pack, you hear a loud thud coming from the entrance. You (carefully) sit up and rub your eyes, trying to focus on the shadow figure approaching your bed. It's one of the lizard monsters, swiftly slithering across the wall and landing over you with an angered expression. "Where the fuck is that dog?" it inquires with a hiss. "What? Who're you talking about?" you mumble, wildly confused. "The one that dared to touch you."

Oh, not this crap again. You almost roll your eyes. "You never said anything about us being together." Is your annoyed reply. "What? I thought it'd be obvious you belong to me!" You're about to question the strange logic, but your couple's quarrel is interrupted by the sound of shattered glass. The many-eyed monster crawls its way in with fluid, uncanny movements, releasing a deafening screech once it notices the lizard in your bed. "Off! Get off my human now!" is what it finally manages to verbalize in its fury. Okay, it seems to be the common belief. To clear off any shred of doubt remaining, the ceiling gives in and crumbles like putty under the weight of an enormous tentacle. You scream and cover your face from the bits of rubble flying everywhere, but you're quickly sheltered by another thick appendage looping itself around you, against the wrathful protests of the lizard. You did not anticipate the eldritch creature could expand to this gargantuan size.

For the first time since arriving here, you feel homesick. At least back home you could get rid of your annoying admirers with the slide of a button. Is there a larger scale alternative for cosmic blasphemies? You shake your fist (up? down? you can't tell in the darkness of the tentacle shield) towards the entity once more. Damn it, you've learned your lesson. Several steps must’ve been skipped before reaching a pack of angry, possessive monsters fighting over your ownership.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere headcanons #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #monster x reader #monster x human #monster romance #monster fucker #monster lover #monster boyfriend #tentacle monster #terato #male yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #teratophillia #monster smut #yandere smut

[foxartist-blog]

Served with Fruit and a Break 〜 (Scaramouche x Reader)

!! NSFW !!

You have been warned.

• Word count: 2.6k

• Dom (slightly soft) Scaramouche, Female reader, Nipple play, Oral (f receiving), Rare praise

Note: This is more of Wanderer’s personality and character but written as Scaramouche for simplicity.

Scaramouche was at his desk, scribbling absent-mindedly while scanning over his assigned texts. How boring, he thought. There’s no reason for me to learn something I will likely never use in my life. He read a paragraph over and over again, his eyebrows raised in mild amusement. “The way humans write…” Scaramouche exhaled as he underlined some key words. “Entirely convoluted…” he muttered.

You gently knocked on his door and quietly sneaked behind his seat, and tapped on his shoulder with a plate of sliced fruit and snacks. “Wanna take a break?” You smiled at him, hoping that he would agree. But to your dismay, he flicked his hand as if swatting away a fly. “I have no need for food or breaks,” came his reply.

His rejection caused your shoulders to slump. “But…”

“No buts. Now stop being a distraction and go do your own assignments.”

Your brows furrowed slightly in annoyance and pursed your lips a little. “Well I’m taking a break.”

He didn’t reply as his attention was back on his textbooks. The way he brushed you off did irritate you a bit. You placed the plate down on his desk next to a pile of books and picked up a small slice of a banana, with a thought running through your mind. I’ll just do this and leave…

You grabbed onto his hair to pull his head back a little and shoved the banana into his mouth. Scaramouche’s eyes widened and he spluttered. You were already heading for the door but he gripped onto your arm and pulled you back. He spat out the piece of banana before speaking. “You little…” Scaramouche faltered before sighing. “You want me to choke?”

You averted your eyes from his intense gaze. “N-No… I just wanted you to take a break.”

He sighed. “I really don’t understand why you care so much but… fine. I’ll take this break so you can stop being a nuisance.” He let go of your arm and sat back down on his chair.

Great! You gave him a small smile then pointed at his lap. “Since there’s no chairs, I can sit here, right?” Giving him a playful wink, you were quick to take your seat on his lap, picking up a cherry and popping it into your mouth.

Scaramouche paused, feeling a little embarrassed. But he would never show that side to you. He sighed as he realised there really weren't any other seats for you. “Do whatever you want. Just involve me as little as poss—” he was cut off by you shoving another piece of fruit into his mouth. “Can you quit that?” He scowled when you looked satisfied doing that to him that he decided to take his revenge. He grabbed a blueberry from the plate and forced your mouth open with his other hand. “Say aah…” he smirked as he pushed the blueberry into your mouth. You closed your mouth after he let your jaw go, feeling your cheeks heat up. You were expecting him to shove it into your mouth as you did to him but to your surprise he was handling you quite gently. As you chewed quickly, you gazed into his eyes while he stared back silently. It was only when you swallowed that you realised you were staring so absent-mindedly at him that you turned away to pick up another piece of fruit. You brought the fruit up to his lips as he gave you a tiny smirk, slightly laughing at you.

“Heh… What’s the matter? Did you happen to get lost in my eyes?” Scaramouche opened his mouth as you fed him. “And quit feeding me like I’m a baby. Why are you doing that?” He frowned as he chewed.

You shrugged your shoulders. “It's just an act of affection.” You were looking at the plate instead of his face, with the hope that he wouldn’t comment on your flushed cheeks.

Scaramouche picked off the plate this time and brought the apple slice to your lips. “I don’t… think I deserve such treatment from you. Yet…” His thumb swiped lightly over your bottom lip as you chewed, giving you a small, ticklish feeling. “I feel… greedy…” he continued, his thumb pushing past your lips when you finished eating the apple slice. You felt his thumb caressing the tip of your tongue before he pulled it out. There were moments like these where Scaramouche would openly tell you his feelings. It was something you greatly appreciated.

“Feed me a cracker this time.” Scaramouche requested. You picked up a cracker from the plate and fed him, smiling softly as you said, “it’s okay to be a little greedy…”

A small smirk slowly formed on his lips as he swallowed. “Is that so? Then I hope you don’t mind me doing this.” He picked up a strawberry and held it between his teeth before leaning towards you. Scaramouche caught your chin, pressing his thumb and middle finger against your cheeks gently to get you to open your mouth. He pushed half of the strawberry between your teeth and bit down, so half was in your mouth and the other half was in his.

“Hm. Sour,” Scaramouche muttered as he ate his half of the strawberry. He noticed you not chewing. “I don’t mind taking my strawberry back, you know.”

You stuttered out a confused ‘huh’ as he leaned towards your face, his eyes locked onto your lips. His thumb pressed between your lips as his tongue snaked in, swiping the other half of the strawberry. Scaramouche pulled away slightly as he chewed with a smirk plastered upon his lips. It finally registered in your brain what he did. ”Thief,” you remarked, playfully frowning. You wrapped your arms around his neck to pull his head closer before lightly pecking his lips in a teasing manner. Scaramouche’s mouth tickled upon feeling such softness against him. His hands slid down to your hips, fondling them as he pressed his mouth against yours.

While you were kissing him slowly, you pulled away briefly and picked up a piece of fruit from the plate. You popped the fruit into your mouth then pressed your lips against his again, pushing the fruit into his mouth with your tongue as Scaramouche parted his lips. To your surprise, he spat out the fruit and slid his textbooks and notepad to the side before grabbing you off his lap and onto the desk instead. He didn’t waste a single second as he immediately pressed his mouth against yours in a searing kiss, groping and squeezing your curves through your clothes in order to force a gasp out of you so he could push his tongue inside your mouth. His hands slid up to hold your face, as he circled his tongue around yours in a slow dance. Your hands found purchase at the front of his clothes, clutching and wrinkling his Akademiya uniform while you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him closer. Scaramouche finally pulled away when you needed air but he could not wait as his lips immediately trailed down the side of your neck, his hands pulling, unbuttoning, undressing you.

Scaramouche grunted as he felt your thighs squeeze his hips. “Aren’t you a little too excited?” He mumbled into your neck, kissing down until he reached your collarbone, licking it slowly.

“I think you’re the one who’s excited,” you replied as you caressed his head while one hand was running up and down his side, eventually inching its way between his legs, toward his hardening cock. Scaramouche began kissing the top of your breasts, while his hands squeezed them gently, his thumbs rubbing your nipples. He was licking the line between your breasts before he suddenly gasped against your skin, while you were amused by his reaction as your hand fondled his erection through his pants. His gaze shifted to your face, his lips forming a straight line as if to tell you that he will get you back for that.

He kept his eyes on your face as he very quickly closed his lips over one of your nipples, sucking harshly while he pinched and pulled the other, startling you and causing moans to slip out of your mouth. Scaramouche smirked as he began to lick, flicking your nipple with his tongue as you gripped onto his hair, squirming. You arched your back as he opened his mouth wider to not only suck on your nipple, but some of the area around your nipple as well. Your movements of pressing your tit further against his mouth only challenged Scaramouche to fit as much as he can, as his saliva began to dribble under your tit. He let go with a wet pop, admiring the way your nipple was glistening with his saliva, all swollen and sensitive. He glanced back to your face, looking into your eyes as his finger poked your wet nipple. You grabbed his hand and pulled it away from your nipple, trembling as you managed to breathe out. “It’s too sensitive…” You said as you covered your other nipple with your hand, knowing that he was going to treat it the same way.

Scaramouche lightly chuckled. “Hey… You’re the one who urged me to take a break. All this studying makes me stressed out, so…” he pinned your hands behind you as he continued, “I need your body to relieve my mind.” As he went to press his tongue against your untouched nipple, you twisted your body to the side, attempting to avoid his mouth. He growled in response. “Quit moving around like that or I’ll bite.” He threatened unseriously, trying to make you listen to his instructions but the sound of his growl had only excited you further as wetness pooled between your legs. However you decided to let him have his way, as Scaramouche moaned against your nipple when his lips made contact. He once again sucked roughly as you squirmed and trembled, trying to free your hands from his grip. He attempted to fit your tit into his mouth as much as he could as he played around your nipple with his tongue. If he continued his ministrations, it felt as if you could cum just from him playing with your tits…!

You sighed out of relief as Scaramouche finally pulled away from your breasts, admiring again at his work, as your tits were wet and messy with his saliva. “You look so good like this,” he whispered as he gazed at your swollen nipples. Scaramouche looked pleased with himself, then his eyes trailed downwards. “Of course, I must be neglecting something…” He flicked his gaze to your face. “Care to tell me?” Scaramouche asked as he then whispered your name.

“...Please,” with a shaky sigh you squeezed his hips with your legs again. Scaramouche finally let go of your hands as he pulled your outer clothing down and grabbed your knees to spread them apart. “Oh?” He murmured as he noticed the wet spot on your panties. “Mmh… enjoying yourself, weren’t you?” Scaramouche chuckled as pressed his lips against your inner thigh, kissing and sucking as you whined. He paused for a moment, as if thinking of something. “Hold on to me,” Scaramouche demanded. You complied and wrapped your limbs around his body as he proceeded to lift you up from the desk and set you on his bed. “I don’t want you making a mess near the books,” he muttered as he pushed you down, slotting himself between your legs, and grinding his clothed cock against your panties. “You feel so good…” he groaned blissfully as he continued to rub against you, causing your panties to stick to your pussy and the wet spot to spread. “So good…” he whispered in your ear. Scaramouche paused before hesitantly whispering again. “Good girl.”

You shivered when he whispered in your ear. “How unexp–,” you were cut off as he began to kiss you hungrily on the lips, thrusting his hot tongue into your mouth. Scaramouche kept his eyes open this time while making out with you, without you noticing as your eyes were shut, focusing on the feeling and texture of his tongue. His gaze, while normally strong, was soft as he kissed you, yet still a glaze of lust was evident in his eyes. He pulled away from your mouth and shuffled down your body, his indigo-blue eyes examining and memorising each and every curve, mark, spot, on your body until he hooked his fingers around your panties. Before he pulled them down, he met your gaze once again. “I do believe there is… one ‘fruit’ you have yet to serve me. Heh heh.” Scaramouche chuckled as he pulled your panties completely off. “Mmh… you smell good…” he remarked as he nudged his nose against your clit, causing you to immediately squeeze his head between your thighs. He groaned as he felt the soft skin of your inner thighs squishing his face, and he pressed his mouth against your slit as he mumbled into it. “This is the break I needed…” Scaramouche’s tongue poked and prodded at your opening, licking up all the slick, as he ran his tongue up and down your pussy. Your hands gripped onto his hair, tugging on it as you writhed in pleasure when he closed his lips around your clit and sucked. He didn’t mind how tightly you squeezed his head, after all he was a puppet who did not need to breathe.

Yet, it did bother him somewhat, as Scaramouche found it slightly difficult to thrust his tongue into your hole when your legs were closed around him. He pushed your thighs apart, by holding the back of your knees and pressing them against your chest, folding you however he wanted. “That’s better,” he mumbled as he dove right back into your pussy and shoved his tongue in, causing you to gasp and tremble as he moved his tongue in and out of your wet hole. As much as you wanted to watch him eat you out, your head was constantly thrown back due to the intense amount of pleasure he was giving you. Your orgasm was building strongly when Scaramouche decided to shift one of his hands from your thighs to your clit, instantly soaking his fingers in a mixture of your slick and his saliva, as he rubbed and played with your sensitivity while his tongue moved in and out of your pussy at a fast pace. His actions had only caused you to shake involuntarily as you began to chant his name while your eyes were glued to the ceiling. Scaramouche could tell you were on the very edge of a powerful orgasm when he began to mumble into your pussy. “Mmh…cum…cum…cum for me…cum on my face…I’ll keep…fucking you with my tongue…just…cum…!”

You pressed your palm over your mouth to cover up a loud moan as you squirted, the edges of your vision turning white as your climax washed over you, rendering you into a crying, shaking mess. Scaramouche could only watch your reaction in awe, as he was the one who made you react in such a hot way. His tongue slowly licked up your mess, as you quivered, trying to push his face away from your pussy. “Stop it… it's too much,” your voice sounded above a whisper while you glanced down at him. It seems you’ve made a bigger mess than you thought as you noticed your fluids on his face.

Scaramouche sat up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He sighed. “I guess you’re due for a break, huh?” He pulled you closer to him by your thighs. “You have five minutes,” he chuckled as he eagerly rubbed his cock on your sensitive pussy.

Also posted on AO3. Do not share, copy, translate.

Thank you for reading <3

#✧❃☽〜 |foxwrites #genshin impact smut #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin wanderer #genshin impact wanderer #genshin impact #genshin scaramouche #genshin x reader #genshin smut #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #female reader #x reader #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader smut #dom scaramouche #wanderer x reader #wanderer smut #wanderer x reader smut #wanderer x you #dom wanderer #genshin x y/n #smut

[hydemenot]

OFF LIMITS - mattheo r. | part. 1

➠ It's the 1960s and Hogwarts Academy has finally opened its doors for female students. Transferring from Beauxbatons, you're finally going into the same school as your brother, Theodore Nott, and he's made it very clear to you that the two of you aren't siblings inside Hogwarts — that's until you got yourself in trouble, harboring several injuries where Theo had stubbornly insisted on taking care of you himself and accidentally meeting his dorm mate. INSPIRED BY MIXTE 1963

w: there are italian and french words that i googled so if the translations are off, sorry italian and french readers (if i have them), nonmagic au, siblings angst bc yes, cliffhanger and unedited.

📚: PART 1 | PART 2 | PART XX

"And remember, Gioia(joy), don't get into unnecessary trouble for you and your brother's sake, okay? Understand me?"

Your mother's words suddenly echoed from your brain to your ear as you felt your back hit the hard pavement of the castle. Your bag was tussled to the ground and left with the things inside sprawled against the muddy grass, leaving you with nothing but your arms to defend yourself. In all fairness, you never thought you'd have to defend yourself in the first place. No one warned you English (or are they French?) boys knew no bounds of who can they meet fists with.

"You think it's funny to embarrass me, huh?" Descamps, or whatever his name was, backed you into a corner. His and his goon's faces were etched with anger. You couldn't blame them, really. If someone were to call you a toothpick with left over tar after publicly bullying another student by the new girl, you'd probably be pissed too; heavy on the probably though, because you're never one to bully anyone like that asshole.

"If you only knew how to keep your mouth shut this wouldn't be happening." You retorted back in the same confidence you had inside the classroom.

You could see the vein popping from the boy's forehead and without even giving you time to react, his knuckles met your jaw. The impact causing you to hit the wall again except ten times harder and on your head. The dress your mother painfully had to put on you was dirtied in a matter of seconds as you fell into the ground.

Descamps laughed at the sight of you. "You should've kept your mouth shut, you connesse(cunt)!" Ah, so they are french.

A few more kicks to your stomach, and nasty words of encouragement from Descamps' friends, they finally left when the school bell rang. Lunch was over and you didn't even get a bite of your mother's sandwich — which was probably somewhere on the ground swimming on the puddles. There's no use attending your next class; you'd rather get a mark on your attendance than try to sit in the same room as the boys that beat you up.

You've always been a bit of a loud mouth, as your mother and teachers in Beauxbatons have said, and back then, it would've only caused you a few push to the shoulders and icy glares. You wondered why your parents thought it was a good idea to attend Hogwarts. The fact that your brother was against it should have been a major factor to your parents, being their golden child and all.

As your thoughts ran, you managed to sit up and lean against the wall again. The position somewhat helped lessen your headache. You need to get yourself together and head to the nurse's office before anyone sees you, hopefully patching yourself enough to excuse it as a staircase accident to your family.

The ringing in your ear didn't stop you from hearing your brother's voice calling your name.

Speak of the devil.

Theodore's hand held your head, parting ways from the cold cement, to get a closer look at you. It's only when he placed his thumb against your temple did you realize there's blood running down your face.

That's probably the cause of the headache, you thought.

His hand is pressed firmly to your cheeks, causing more pain that you're already feeling. "Can you stop that?" You snapped at him, shaking your head to forcefully remove his hold on you. The last thing you wanted to hear was Theo's voice because you knew he'll just blow your eardrums off.

"Save your scolding when we're at home; y'know, when I can at least open both eyes while you talk." Once again, your pent up anger, and probably adrenaline from the beating, caused you to raise your voice against him.

You heard him click his tongue, "You're nowhere near going home at this state. Mamma's going to have a heart attack." As soon as he finished talking, Theo suddenly carried you in his arms. His actions caused you to squirm. It's embarrassing enough to be seen in your state, let alone in the arms of your older brother.

You're not a kid anymore. You were kicked in the stomach and lived.

"Hey! mettetemi giù!(put me down)! I can walk to the nurse's office."

"The nurse is out at the moment, you'll only feel worse if you stay in the beds. I'll clean you up."

You frown, eyes half lidded from how tired you are as the adrenaline finally started subsiding. "As if. I thought we weren't supposed to know each other?" You stopped squirming but gave more effort into yelling at Theo, who looked unfazed from your words.

Theo clicked his tongue again. It's a habit he does when he's frustrated with something; that something today was you.

"You're right but then you get yourself into trouble on your first day." He said with his annoyingly matter-of-fact tone that you've always despised. "Perché papà ha accettato di trasferirti? Dio(Why did dad agree to transfer you? God)."

"Non è che io voglia stare qui, non ti ho mai chiesto di essere responsabile per me! (It's not like I want to be here, I never asked you to be responsible for me!)"

Theo faces you, his expression distorted into a mixture of frustration and disbelief. "You're my sister, you'll always be my responsibility."

As you were about to argue again, Theo slammed open a door, shutting you up. You didn't even realize you were back inside the school's building, specifically your brother's dorm. The room was darker than you thought and a lot bigger. From the door, two beds were placed on both sides of the room; you assumed the bed Theo placed you on was his which was on the left side.

"Don't move. I'll get first aid from the nurse's office. Don't answer the door unless it's me, I'll be locking the door so I'll just use my key. Understand?"

Theo reminded so much of your mother that it only made you roll your eyes, the opened one at least. "I understand." You answered shortly, not making eye contact. That seemed to be an enough answer from you once you heard the door click shut.

With a sigh, you let yourself fall on the soft mattress. The sight of the four-poster bed made you reminisce on your dorm back in your old school. You missed the privacy, the lack of family around and especially the lack of boys. As you were about to roll further into the soft mattress, wanting to feel the pillow against your head, the door opened once more. Too busy admiring the ceiling, you didn't bother looking up from your position, knowing that it's just your brother. He probably already has a speech ready for you.

"Uh, hello?" The unfamiliar voice startled you, making you sit up. You're face to face with an unknown boy and his black curly hair. Sweat ran down your forehead, internally panicking at the fact that he was definitely not Theo.

"Did Theo bring you here? and—" His eyes hardened at the sight of blood all over your dress and your face. You watch as his eyebrows furrowed, immediately sending an alarm to go off in your head that's telling you he's getting the wrong idea here. "Did that bastard do that? Why's your face all messed up?"

You shook your head immediately, instinctively hiding yourself under the covers. It looked like the boy didn't believe you, tightening his grip on the door knob he's still holding.

Despite the fact that you didn't wish to speak to another boy today, you were left with no choice but to explain yourself. "Theo didn't do this, I promise. He brought me here to patch me up because the nurse's out— don't misunderstand, please." Your voice trembled but had enough resolute for him to feel relief, seeing how he lets go of the poor door.

He remained in the middle of the room, contemplating his next move. You, on the other hand, still felt frozen on your spot in the middle of the bed, eyes on the boy. He's handsome, you'll admit, but a face like that can be owned by anyone, so you had your guard up the whole time as the awkward silence between the two of you raised. The boy finally moved and began rummaging through the closet on the opposite side.

Seeing how familiar he was to the room as he grabbed a white cloth from one of the drawers then entering the shared bathroom, it led you to the conclusion that he's Theo's roommate. He came out with a damp towel, suddenly approaching you with careful stels. You had your guard up, you swear you did, but you didn't give much of a fight once he started wiping the dried blood from your face.

Unlike Theo, his hands were gentle with you. A hand was placed under your chin, his thumb and index finger kept your head steady while his other hand, holding the towel, carefully dabbed it on an open wound, as if he was used to cleaning up injuries.

"I get into fights often so don't worry, you're in good hands." Your eyes are ever so slightly widened. "I can practically hear what you're thinking with that look on your face." He chuckled, his voice deep and calm, it almost made you blush — both in embarrassment for being an open book and his voice.

You see him turning the towel around to wipe another spot on your face. "If Theo wanted to patch you up, he should've cleaned you up before leaving." He mused.

"He's really not one to take care of people often." You suddenly quipped, one eye closed as the towel ran circles on the dried up blood.

Your words made him chuckle again, bringing back the boyish smile that he had. "You can say that again," He replied, "how long have you known him?"

"All my life, I guess? Unfortunately." You started to feel comfortable with the boy's presence, a surge of confidence once again going through your chest. "What's your name?"

"You've known Theo all your life but you've never heard of me? That hurts," You looked at him as he placed the hand that was holding your head to his chest, his expression in mock-hurt, making you both laugh.

The moment was cut short when the door squeaked open again, your brother finally arriving with the first aid. His roommate didn't bother stopping, not even turning around to see the angered expression on Theo's face. It's only when he was grabbed by the collar, his warm hands leaving your face, did he stop.

"What the fuck are you doing, Mattheo?"

You take note of his name. Mattheo somehow fitted the boy very much.

Mattheo held his hands in the air, like a criminal to a policeman, with a smirk on his face. "I'm just cleaning her up, man. You shouldn't have left your girl here— the other guys also have a key to our dorm if you didn't know."

Your girl? Your face scrunched up, so did your brother's, at Mattheo's words. "She's not my girl, you bird brain, that's my sister." Theo finally released him and made his way to you, leaving Mattheo on his own.

"Never refer to me as that again, please, for the sake of my breakfast." You held a hand to your mouth. Mattheo's eyes widened at the information and if your vision wasn't so blurry, you would've thought you saw his face brighten up. Theo began to put some ointments on the open wounds on your knees using a cotton swab. You felt the other side of the mattress dip and saw Mattheo sitting across from the two of you.

He smiled at you, completely ignoring the fiery glare from Theo. "So, what school did you go to before Hogwarts?

"That's none of your business—"

"I was in Beauxbatons." You looked back at Theo with the same glare he had as you cut him off. He scoffed at your actions but proceeded to place bandages on your legs.

"Oh, Alors tu as l'habitude de parler français, non?(Then you're quite used to speaking french right?)" You nodded in amusement, finding the prominent english accent through his french words a bit... adorable?

You felt your face reddening at your own thoughts. "Oui, bien sûr(Yes, of course)."

Too enamored by Mattheo, Theo had to accidentally press one of the bruises too hard to bring your attention back to him. He doesn't want to hear anymore french conversations between the two of you. "Are there any other wounds?" Theo asked, feigning ignorance of what he just did.

As if on cue, the formed bruises on your stomach ached, making you groan in pain. Both boys caught this immediately, rushing to aid you.

"Just some on the stomach." You mumbled as Mattheo gently laid you down on the bed. Your answer made them both freeze. They looked hesitant and you're not surprised. You knew Theo won't be able to help you with this, let alone Mattheo. "I told you I should've went to the nurse's office." You said to Theo.

"Why didn't you bring her there anyway?" Mattheo questioned your brother, who still had the same frustration evident on his face.

Theo sighed, "I don't trust that the boys that did this to you won't come back and look for you." You fell silent at this. There was no way those French assholes wouldn't, now that you thought of it. "And by being here, I won't be questioned by others on why I went to the nurse's office."

Mattheo's mind seemed to be elsewhere when he placed a gentle hand on your back. "Who did this to you, anyway?" He was the first to ask and it looked like Theo realized it too. You frowned, wiping a frustrated hand over your face. Deep down, your pride didn't want to let Theo know. You don't want to cower behind your older brother like you always do. But it's different now. The two of you went to the same school and you had no plans on going back—you wanted to get your revenge.

You glanced at Mattheo whose eyes remained on you.

And maybe you wanted to stay for another reason too.

With a sigh, you finally spoke. "It was a boy in my class. Descamps was his last name, I think." You fully turned to Mattheo and to your surprise, he immediately moved his head back and faced Theo. It made you chuckle at how red Mattheo's ear looked but you kept that observation to yourself.

You saw the way two of them made eye contact as if they were telepathically communicating.

Looks like they got dibs on Descamps before you do.

#slytherin boys #mattheo riddle #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle imagine #theodore nott #mixte1963

[arcaneauthor]

Soap and Ghost with a s/o on their period

Warnings: period blood, fluff

A/n: I feel like I’m bleeding out rn and need to vent

Ghost:

Is absolutely not grossed out by your period, I mean this man sees blood everyday, he’s used to it, plus it’s natural right? As long as it’s coming from a menstrual cycle and not some major wound, he’s good

Is absolutely clueless when it comes to female issues. Like he knows all the medical stuff of what’s happening to you and why it’s happening but as far as how to comfort you and make you feel better? Completely clueless. He’s never really had a close enough relationship with another woman to have to deal with this.

Not saying he won’t help you out though, just need’s a little guidance. Will 100% do anything you tell him to. He’d be your good little soldier. You want take out? He’s calling it in. You want a warm bath? He’s carrying you to the bathroom.

Would probably sit on the side of your bed rubbing a large hand over your back or through your hair.

Though if you don’t feel like being touched and want distance? He’s a big boy, he can take no for an answer and not pout about it. “That’s fine doll, whatever you need.” Though he’ll still be coming in the room ever thirty minutes to check in on you with an “You alright, love?”

Will give you one of his gigantic shirts to wear since you don’t want tight fabric rubbing against you right now.

Would do everything around the house for you without being asked. It’s how he’d show he cared since he wasn’t one for lovey dovey words. Feeling guilty, you’d keep trying to get up to help him, despite his many refusals. About the fifth time he’d eventually just pick you up over his shoulder and carry you back to bed himself.

.“Nope, you’re gonna sit your little arse in bed and let me do the bloody dishes.” “But it’s not fair for you to do all the dirty work.” “I’m not the one bleeding out my a**.”

Your snarky reply of “That’s not exactly where it’s coming from” has him slamming the bedroom door in your face. Would definitely just pop back in your room a few minutes later with a tub of ice cream though.

Soap:

Like ghost, he’s not grossed out at all by your period.

Unlike Ghost, I feel like he would know exactly what to do for you. Chocolate, flowers, basically makes you a whole nest on your bed of pillows, blankets, stuffed animals, etc. Basically, he would just be absolutely perfect.

This man is a major cuddler and you can’t convince me other wise. Would spoon you from behind while holding a heating pad to your aching stomach. Running his other hand up and down your side and back.

But, he too, would of course understand if you didn’t want to be touched. Would maybe joke around and pout at you a little,”If ye’ don’ love me no more, jus’ say that.” But would end up kissing you on the head, “I’m jus’ kiddin, that’s fine sweetheart.” And would leave you alone as long as you needed

If you live separately and your period starts while at his place, you’d be surprised to find that he already has supplies. He’d here your muffled curse from the bathroom, “Honey? You alright?” You’d be a little embarrassed at first, telling him what’s happened and that you, in fact, did not have anything with you. “Oh, that’s alrigh’. Check the bottom drawer on the lef’ for me, should be somethin’ in there.” You’d instantly feel calmed by how nonchalant he was being about it. Though that quickly turned to shock as you open the drawer. There’s an array of pads and tampons of different sizes. Even has an extra pair of underwear which, when you check the tag, is your size. When questioned, he just smiled and told you “A soldier’s always prepared.” Which you then gave him possibly the deepest kiss of your life just for his thoughtfulness.

If you started at night and bleed over on his sheets he’d make absolutely no fuss about it, instantly waving away your embarrassment with a smile. If you try to apologize for it he would be having absolutely none of it. Cups your face, “Hey, no. None of tha’. This is completely natural, nothin’ to be ashamed of. Nothin’ a good soak won’ fix.”

Would 100% be making all kinds of puns about it. “Gotta say swee’heart, your’ looking bloody sexy right now.” And you’d so not be in the mood. If looks could kill

#simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #reader insert #imagines #ghost fluff #ghost fanfiction #call of duty #fanfic #soap mw2 #soap x reader #soap mctavish x reader #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x you #soap mctavish x you #john soap mctavish x reader #john mactavish #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #headcanon #cod headcanons

[norrizzandpia]

Heyy, I don’t know if your requests are open, if they are just ignore this.

I was just reading “quiet night, loud morning” (btw I love your writing and this one is definitely one of my favourite stories you wrote) and I had an idea for a story, but it is kind of similar with the one I was reading, so I thought of giving the idea as a base for a whole new story that you could do.

Y/N was dating Oscar and no one new, but everyone suspected. And she lived with one of the boys (maybe she could be someone’s sister or daughter). And the story would be basically various time that they almost got caught. I imagine moments like: they’re roommates was out for some reason and they get a call or a message of noise complaints (y/n and oscar were being loud in the apartment and the neighbour tried to call her but she didn’t answer, so they called the roomate); or maybe they get caught getting out of the drivers room together and they were all messy; oscar or yn were caught with hickeys; the two of them going missing together; etc. And then in the end, you could make them getting official caught but like in a scandalous way, maybe caught having sex in a clubs bathroom by one of the boys or so.

If you don’t like the idea just ignore the request, is completely fine.

Btw sorry if it got hard to understand, English is not my first language, but I hope you understood my idea.

Have a good day <3

I understood this perfectly and I absolutely love it 🧡 I’m not sure if you’ll like this but I’ve taken the idea and made it the second part to an imagine i just posted “Loving You in the Shadows” This just really fit perfectly with the way I saw the story going hope you like it!

Sneaking Around (Loving You in the Shadows Pt. 2) (OP81)

Summary: After getting together, Y/n and Oscar find themselves wanting to keep their relationship private. Unfortunately, they can only try so hard.

Warnings: sexual conversations, light smut, Oscar and y/n being dumbasses, language

After that night in the garage, Oscar brought Y/n up to his room and the events that ensued ranged from incredibly inappropriate to family friendly. They laid tangled together, naked forms stuck together, and spoke softly about the future of whatever was blossoming between them.

“I want you to be mine.” He whispered against her hair, his hands rubbing up and down her back.

She giggled, giddy over the words she had wanted to hear from him for so long, “Me too.”

He turned her over slightly, so he could lean down and kiss her sweetly, “So, then it’s settled! You’re my girlfriend! I’m your boyfriend!”

His exclaims had Y/n laughing, her smile stopping his heart as it always did, “Osc, I love you, but that was way too cringy.”

His head tilted, teeth peaking through his grin, “Say it again.”

Kissing his cheek and letting her mouth rest next to his ear, “I love you.”

He sighed, dropping his head onto the pillow below him, “I never want you to stop saying it.”

“I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I-” She laughed, bed sheet falling down her chest as she rolled onto him and poked his chest.

He rolled his eyes playfully, “Okay, that’s good.”

“Never want to hear me say it again?” She challenged, his hands resting on the warm skin of her hips.

“Nah, every day I’d like to hear you say that.”

Quietness followed, the two letting their hands trace scars and marks across the other’s body. It was only a few minutes later that the thought popped into Y/n’s head and she blurted it out, sick of all the secret feelings.

“Can we keep it a secret for a while?” She inquired, hands coming to splay across his chest.

He looked up at her with confusion, “Why?”

She breathed out, “Because, Oscar, being a female driver and Lando’s little sister, it’s already thought by everyone else that I get hand outs. Being with you publicly will just add to that. I can’t have that risking my seat anymore than all of it already is.”

He frowned at her, “I don’t think you get hand outs.”

She smiled softly, “I know you don’t and I love you for that. But, not everyone is as kindhearted as you.”

Her hands in his hair made a smile take place rather than his prior frown as he said, “Okay, we can keep it a secret for some time.”

“Thank you, pastry.”

“You’re welcome, baby.”

—

Oscar’s booming laugh bounced across the walls of Y/n and Lando’s apartment. He was on the verge of peeing his pants as he gripped onto the counter, hunched over, as he watched Y/n try and get up from the fall she took.

“Y/n! How the fuck did you do that!” He exclaimed, wheezing interrupting him every so often.

His laugh was contagious and, even though her ass felt bruised all over, Y/n found herself joining him in the giggles, “I don’t know! Why didn’t you clean up the water you spilled?!”

He scoffed loudly, smile ruining his fake annoyance, “Because you were yelling for me to come help you put away your laundry!”

As they caught their breaths, he walked over to her, pulling her into him by her waist and letting his hands move to rest over her ass.

“You okay, though?” He asked, kissing her cheek quickly.

She nodded, “Yeah.”

Her head swiveled around suddenly, “Where’s my phone?”

He cocked his head, “Mmm, not sure. Did it get lost in the couch when we…” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

She smacked his shoulder, “Stop it! Because of you, when Lando and I sit on that couch to eat dinner, I’ll have to think about you over me.”

His jaw dropped, “Because of me?! You were the one who decided to wear the shortest, tightest shorts and a shirt with my name and number on it. You knew what you were doing.”

She smiled mischievously, “Yeah, I did.”

“Okay, but seriously, Oscar, where’s my phone because I don’t want to miss a text or call from Lando and have him come back here early because he ‘thinks I’m dead’.”

“Has that ever really happened?”

“Yes,” She deadpanned, “Lots of times. If he comes back here early, there’s nowhere for you to hide and I’ll have to try to explain to him why you’re here, why the couch looks like it went through a tornado, and why I’m wearing a shirt with your shit on it.”

“You used to wear this same one before we started dating.”

“Yeah and he would always say something about it.”

“Surprisingly, Lando was right about us loving each other.” He laughed, giggles coming back forcefully.

They only grew when Y/n detached herself from his arms and ran across the room, falling once more on her ass, “HOW THE FUCK?” She yelled as Oscar fell to the floor in a fit of giggles.

“HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS?!” He yelled back, the two of them hunched on the floor, clutching their chests as they began to cry.

“I DON’T FUCKING KNOW! DID YOU SPILL WATER ALL OVER THIS GODDAMN PLACE?!” She tried to crawl to him, but gave up when her wheezing took over her body.

He shook his head, “THERE’S NO WATER OVER THERE! THAT WAS ALL YOU, BABY!”

“DON’T ‘BABY’ ME, YOU BITC-” She began, but was interrupted by loud vibrations coming off the coffee table behind them.

She glanced over, seeing her brother’s face brighten her screen.

“Shit, it’s Lando. Be quiet.” She rushed out, scrambling on her knees to grab the phone.

He sat still on the floor, watching from afar as she answered.

“Hey, Lan, what’s up?” She said softly.

“The downstairs neighbors just called me and told me that you’re being loud. They said they tried to call you, but you didn’t answer.” Lando informed her.

Her face dropped and she looked at Oscar as he stared blankly at her.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll be quieter.” She whispered, face draining.

Before she could hang up, however, her brother stopped her.

“Y/n?” He began, to which she let out a sound confirming she was still there, “They said there was another voice along with yours. Usually, I wouldn’t mind that, but they said this person was calling you ‘baby’ and…” He trailed off.

“And what, Lando?” She pushed.

“They said it sounded like you were having sex.” He said quietly, his voice communicating how uncomfortable he was.

She tried to conjure up a lie for the truth, “Oh, well, um, I was watching a show and there was a sex scene, so maybe it was that?”

“Mhm,” He gave, “Y/n?”

“Yes, Lando?” She said again, still looking at Oscar, completely lost.

“You would tell me if you were dating someone, right?”

The question stopped her, she felt incredibly guilty responding with, “Of course. You’re my brother.”

“Okay, well, that’s all. Just be quieter if you can please.” He said softly.

“Okay, I will. Bye, love you.”

“Love you too.” And the call clicked, signaling its end.

Y/n looked at Oscar before he was whispering, “Guess we need to hangout at my apartment now, then.”

—

“Do I look okay?” She asked, staring at Oscar and waiting for his approval.

He cringed, “I mean, yeah, you look like you just got fucked.”

She groaned, head falling forward, “Oscarrrr”

He shook his head, walking up to her, “It’ll be fine! Just walk out there with confidence, no one will know.”

She looked up, meeting his eyes, “You want me to walk out of your driver’s room, looking like I just had sex, which I did, and pretend nothing happened with confidence?”

He rolled his eyes, “Well, when you put it like that,”

She took a deep breath and walked toward the door, “You know what? It’s fine, so long as no one sees us walk out together. Especially Lando.”

Of course, the world hated their guts as they both shuffled out and were met with the confused look of Oscar’s teammate and Y/n’s brother.

“Lando!” She smiled, her voice sounding strained.

His eyes shifted between the two of them, “What were you two doing?”

Oscar was quick, “What do you mean? We were just hanging out like we always do.”

Lando shook his head, “No, I heard noises.”

“No, you didn’t.” Y/n said immediately, silence falling upon the three as Oscar and Y/n tried to look as nonchalant as possible.

“Are you two together? Did I miss a love confession?” He quizzed, finger waving between the two.

Y/n and Oscar gasped obnoxiously simultaneously, “What?! No. For the love of God, Lando, we do not like each other.” Y/n said, deflecting and defending.

Oscar nodded, agreeing with her unwaveringly.

Lando’s hip popped out and his arms folded together across his chest. His mouth opened to counter, but his sister got there first.

“Oh, hell no. I know that stance. That’s your sass stance. I’m not dealing with that, Lan. Ain’t no fucking way.” She brushed off, screaming on the inside, before moving past him and walking away.

Lando was left to stare deeply at Oscar, “Anything to tell me, Piastri?”

Oscar shook his head forcefully, hands coming to surrender, “Nothing, Norris.”

Lando walked past him, stopping next to him and grabbing his bicep harshly, “Hurt her, I’ll kill you. Don’t test me. I don’t care what kind of friendship I’ve developed with you. I’ll cut a bitch.”

—

“What’s that on your neck, Y/n?” Daniel quizzed, a smile gracing his features as the two hung out in Alpha Tauri’s hospitality.

She looked at him blankly, “What?” Her eyebrows drew together, pulling out her phone to open the camera and check what he was referring to.

She tried to keep her anguish in when she saw the purple hickey on the side of her neck, memories of that morning with Oscar filling her brain. They had had to be quick with Lando saying he would be to her hotel room at any moment, but Oscar had still somehow found time to mark her skin the way he always wanted to.

She blinked, staring at Daniel and trying to find an explanation, “Oh, I’m not sure. Must’ve hit my neck on something.”

She went back to her food, trying to stop the conversation and any following questions, but Daniel’s next statement had her choking.

“You know, I say Oscar with the same kind of mark earlier today. Asked him what that was all about. He told me he had spent the night with a girl before, saying she had been eager.”

Y/n just kept her eyes on the bowl in front of her, willing herself into a small hole, “Hmm, so weird. No correlation there though.”

He nodded, face telling her he didn’t believe either of them for one second, “Yeah. No correlation.”

—

“Lando, have you seen your sister anywhere?” Alpha Tauri’s main race engineer asked, seemingly frazzled.

Lando shook his head, “No, but have you seen Oscar?”

The man murmured a ‘no’, eyes frantically looking over the crowds in search of her y/h/c hair, “You can’t find him either?”

“No,” Lando’s eyes widened slightly when the idea came to his head, “Hey, has Oscar been mentioning Y/n a lot more lately?”

Pierre, the race engineer, laughed, “I don’t know how he could talk about her anymore than he already is. But, come to think of it, I feel like they’ve been together a lot more lately.”

“Yeah…” Lando trailed off, leaving the conversation to try and see for himself. His body moved quickly across the paddock, looking in every room in both McLaren and Alpha Tauri buildings. When he came up empty, he resorted to searching random corners of the track.

He was pacing by an alleyway when he caught a glimpse of Oscar’s hair, his head whipping around to inspect. He didn’t approach, wanting to see what he had stumbled across. Unfortunately, Lando couldn’t see who was with Oscar, their body being covered by his as it caged them into the wall, but it seemed to be someone he was romantically involved with. Lando watched as Oscar’s hands gripped onto the hips of this woman, his head leaning down to catch her in a kiss. When he saw the way Oscar’s hips ground into hers, Lando turned around and practically ran back to where he had been before.

Though he couldn’t make out who Oscar was involved with, Lando had an inkling it was his sister, a reality he had wished for her for so long.

—

Lando never got up in the middle of the night. It just never happened, he was a deep sleeper. However, for one reason or another, he was awoken with a thirst he had to quench. His eyes drooped as he slipped out of bed and into the hallway to his and Y/n’s kitchen. He stood, leaning on the cool counter, pouring himself a glass of water when he heard small noises coming from her room. At first, he thought she was watching a movie, but then he heard a deeper groan emit from the closed door and his ears strained to listen. He inched closer, trying to understand what he was hearing, but as he continued to hear almost inaudible sighs, he figured he’d just go in to check on her, wanting to make sure she was getting good sleep.

Abandoning the water fully on the island, he moved to stand with his hand on her doorknob. He hesitated, something in his mind nagging at him and telling him to walk away, but the another side, the protective side, told him he needed to make sure she was okay. Truly, if he had been a bit more awake, he would’ve clocked the category of sounds coming from the room; if he had been more awake, he would’ve walked away; if he had been more awake, he wouldn’t have opened the door and see his sister having sex with his teammate.

“SHIT!” He screamed, shrieking as he covered his eyes.

Oscar, his dick still buried inside his girlfriend, grabbed the duvet and pulled it quickly over their connected bodies. Y/n, whose legs were wrapped tightly around her boyfriend’s waist, yelled at Lando to get out, the boy still standing there with his hands squeezed over his face.

He ran out, sounding on the verge of tears. The door slammed shut behind him and Oscar dropped his head onto her shoulder, “I fucking swear to God. That cannot be the way your brother finds out about us.”

She gently pushed him off of her and grabbed their clothes off the ground, covering herself and preparing for the state she would find Lando in, “Looks like it is.”

The couple came out shamelessly, heads stooping low as they met Lando, the man sitting on the couch with his head in his hands.

“Lan, I am so so so sorry.” She whispered, hand clutching Oscar’s.

He lifted his head, squinting at her, “I’m not fucking mad, just so shocked at you two being together and seeing… that.”

“Shocked?! You were one of the people who continuously told us we loved each other.” Oscar argued.

Lando shook his head, “I didn’t think you would go through with it. I thought the two of you would just stay friends seeing as you were both too scared to say anything.”

Oscar shuffled, “Well, she forced it out of me.”

Y/n nodded, giggling, “Yeah, I did.”

“Thank God, you did.” Oscar smiled down at her.

No matter how much he wanted to claw his eyes out, Lando knew he wouldn’t ever want to stop seeing how happy Oscar made Y/n. He felt relieved to know that the person he was leaving her to smiled at her that way, made her laugh that way, made her eyes twinkle that way.

Even though he wanted to claw his eyes out now, he was fully aware that he never wanted to stop seeing the love they shared.

It was so special and he was so elated his sister, out of all people, got to experience it.

He stood up from the couch, walking over to his sister and hugging her softly, whispering in her ear, “You picked a good one. I’m happy for you.”

He pulled back, loving the easy smile on her face, and moved to Oscar. He pulled him in for one of the few hugs they had ever shared, whispering in his ear, “I still stand by what I said before. Hurt her and you’re fucking dead, bitch.”

When the brother pulled away, he continued, “I don’t mess around when it comes to Y/n.”

Oscar chuckled and nodded, “Neither do I.”

And those three words reaffirmed everything Lando knew in his heart.

Oscar was good for her and, even though it had taken him so long to admit, he would love his sister in the way Lando always wished for her to be loved.

Cherished, protected, prioritized, and respected.

#mclaren #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagines #oscar piasstri #oscar pia #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfiction #oscar piastri imagines #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri smut #oscar pastry #ln4 #mclaren formula 1

[bbonnenuit]

The Smiths.

notes: chrollo is yandere, although the fic is lighthearted. the biggest warning is the fact that chrollo looks like he'd listen to the smiths /j, another bigger warning is that reader is an avid the smiths hater. im not tho, all for fun. female reader.

 “Daydreaming again, I see?”

   It would be a lie to say that Chrollo’s voice isn’t at the slightest bit pleasant to hear. It’s soft and smooth, but accompanied with a confident low timbre that you think might be the source of it’s charm. 

   You often wish you both don’t share a language to speak over, so whatever he speaks would be foreign yet pleasant gibberish in your ears. And maybe you’d be able to close your eyes and sleep. You’d be able to treat him as the background noise of some radio host talking about something as mundane as today’s newest dramas. 

  You don’t find the need to chase the impossible ideal this time. One doesn’t need to be a linguist expert in order to know no malice or warning is present in his voice, though one might need a bachelor’s degree and over four decades of experience in psychology to know he truly means nothing behind his calm demeanor. 

   You sign yourself to a fate you’re unsure of, and though it’s foolish, there’s nothing you can do anyway. You’re stuck with him, in a moving four-wheeled compartment, that’s also stuck in traffic. 

   “The music’s good.” Is all you say, and he hums in understanding. 

     Silence falls over the two of you again.

   You almost brought back the colorful reverie you were in before he decided to interject, until he reached for his phone to change the music. Oh, bluetooth, the convenient technology you are. His phone is located on the right of his steering wheel, far away from your reach. If he had reached for the audio system you would’ve been (maybe) able to slap his hand away. 

   “Hm, I’d rather you pay attention to me.” The lilt in his voice is unmistakable. And you almost gag, was that an attempt in flirting? Blegh.  

   “I’ll just stare at the cars,” Headlights and astigmatism can make a good duo, you remind yourself. 

   Chrollo hums again, You can almost laugh, so being stuck in your own daydreams and practically doing nothing is unacceptable, but staring at cars is alright? 

  You stare at a car, observing the way the light that emits from it’s headlights become blurry in your sights, they almost take shape of stars in your opinion. 

   So you set your sights on a particularly small black car in front of you, must be a Toyota or Avanza or something. You can’t tell, it’s got four wheels and headlights, so it’s a car. You could care less about what it is. That is why you weren’t all so interested when Chrollo took you a look into his….Rolls… Rolls what? Oh, right, Rolls Royce. It’s a fancy one, you can tell. He was exuding quite an air of importance when he was leading you towards the high-end vehicle located in the restaurant’s parking lot, there were some on-lookers around that spot that expressed interest at the car. It means something when even people of the middle-upper class are showing interest.

   Whatever ego that had probably swelled within Chrollo must’ve popped like a balloon, or so you hope, because you did nothing more than give him a thumbs up before letting yourself in the passenger’s seat. You also didn’t miss the way he was preparing to tell you about the car’s compartments and specialties that made it cost years of labor. Ah, you’re certain he didn’t gain this vehicle from labor, though. 

   Fancy car or not, everyone’s equally stuck in this traffic. 

   Fancy car or not, doesn’t determine that the song played inside the compartment is free from your judgment or not.

   “What song is this? You ask, although you know the answer. You somehow need an assurance that he is lucid. 

   “Please, please, please, by The Smiths.” He says, pleasant with his song of choice. 

   What an ironic song and artist of choice. 

    It’s harder to hide in a cackle than a scowl, you’d almost forgotten. Any voice you let out threatens to come out as sharp laughter and any breathe you intake threatens to become a wheeze. You could hardly contain yourself. 

   “Oh…” Is all you say before pausing, afraid anything else you will say will turn into a rowdy session of laughter. Unsure if you should speak further or not. But the inquisitive look he offers you somehow serves as a push rather than something that usually wants you to further seal your lips shut in fear you would say the wrong thing and earn his silent ire. It’s far, far harder to hide a cackle than a scowl, but months of training yourself to hide certain expressions whenever Chrollo is around has paid off. “What about Frank Sinatra?” 

 Chrollo smiles. Is he delighted that you find interest in one of his favorite artists? Though he’s never said it outloud, every long night drive has its silence filled with at least one Frank Sinatra song. 

   “Would you rather I change the song, dear?” He offers. And you would say yes, but this is one of the rare, rare moments where you are given the opportunity to take a jab at him. Although it’s nothing as deadly as anything a leader of the Phantom Troupe has faced, you won’t kill him or even hurt him for very long. But you are willing to do anything, at this point. 

   You feign the most pleasant voice you can muster, “Hm… That’s not really what I meant. I just didn’t think you’d listen to The Smiths.” 

   He lets out a small laugh, “Really? I have always listened to older songs around you, I suppose. I wouldn't say I like it… Hm, but it’s an interesting band.”

   So he does like it! 

   “Why do you think so?” You inquire further before adding, “Do you like this song a lot?”

   “Are you intending to interview me, (Name)?” Chrollo cocks his eyebrow, but it is only meant to tease you. 

  “Must’ve picked it up from someone.” A relentless pursuit, you press on further, “Okay though, but answer my question.” 

   Silence falls over him, as if he were in his own state of thinking so deeply, but you know it’s mainly a pretense. Whatever he wishes to say after, you know it must’ve been something he had thought of before. In any other situation, this silence often serves as to let a dreadful situation simmer in your mind.  But this time… Ah, you’re quite unsure. 

  Chrollo finally speaks,  “I’ll answer you of course.” The smile he gives you is anything but nice when you are very much aware of the condemnation those same lips bring you, “On the condition you’d kiss me after.”

  “Okay.” To his surprise, you agreed rather quickly. If that’s the sacrifice you need to make, then so be it. A kiss to soothe his soon-to-be sour, scorned face!

  He is satisfied, you can tell. He puts his elbow against the steering wheel, resting his face against his palm. “I don’t know why you’re suddenly interested, whatever designs you have in your head… Hm, I’ll know of it soon.” 

   No one fucking asked damn. You internally deadpanned, impatience is gnawing at your throat. He reminds you of how you’d write your essays when you have to reach a certain minimum word count by relentlessly dragging around a topic and beating around a bush so much that you end up writing a novel rather than an assignment. Ah… To make him anything alike to you doesn’t sound very right. Whatever, you digress. 

   Chrollo finally, finally starts. And you’re excited, elated, jovial- ah every synonym of the word happiness comes into mind. You can put any thesaurus at shame by now. “I remember the first time we met, you called me something of a hopeless romantic. At that time, I had only laughed because I found the sentiment rather off. Such nonsense. Me? An idealist of love? Love has always been a tool for me. You could only dream.”

   You cut to the chase,“Mhm, although you’ve found a contradiction because you actually enjoy those sappy songs right? Okay, what’s next?” 

   “You know me very well (You smile, excited). But that's not all (you frown, deflated).” Sweet, saccharine drips off of his voice. “I’ve never paid attention to such things, not for myself at least. I don’t ‘relate’ to those kinds of songs. But ever since I met you, it felt as if the world had shifted for me.” 

  He doesn’t stop, and for once you are glad he isn't, “My world has shifted and taken a hole in itself, one that has been carved into the shape of you.” 

  It is interesting how he is able to muse so freely about you, in front of you. Where is the shame and decorum?

   “And I do quite like this song, in all honesty.” His gaze meets yours, and grey eyes bore into your soul. “It really does remind me of the one I love so dearly.” 

   Please, please, please, let me get what I want… Those lyrics loop in your head over and over again. You should be sick with the abundance of affection he has for you that makes you seethe. And you would claw at the leather seats, avert your gaze, and try to block him out as much as you can. But tonight, you feel fucking amazing. 

  You can barely handle it. 

   “Dude, come on,” Your voice is off by an octave and you swear you can burst. Chrollo on the other hand finds satisfaction melting off of his face over the term being used to refer to him, outright calling him a bastard or a monster might be better. You make it a mental note to call him ‘dude’ more. “The Smiths is for losers.” 

   …

   “Pardon?’ 

   “The Smiths is for losers.” You repeat yourself before adding, “It’s for guys who can’t get any, for guys who waddle in sadness for something they can’t get, guys who are always up their own ass. Condescending guys who are secretly insecure, manipulative guys, guys who play guitar and get sad then do weed…” You are kind enough to give a long-winded further explanation.  Chrollo does not share the same sentiment. 

  Chrollo’s countenance seems unchanging at first, but it is not a waste, for you saw a split second of confusion, then something of offense written on his face before it smoothes out into the uncannily still expression he always wears. His lips open, then close, as if he’s mulling over an answer.

   “Are you insinuating I am that type of person, dearest?’ 

   "I mean if the shoe fits...? Well, what do you think?"

    He sighs like it’s obvious,  “That you made the wrong accusation over baseless data.” 

    “I’m not accusing you of anything!” You hold your hands up in mock defense, “Just telling you something everyone kind of agrees on. Things don’t have to be written in numbers or books… Sometimes it’s just a consensus. Everyone and their mom agrees on it."

   You are relentless tonight, so you continue again though Chrollo prompts nothing from your newfound talkative nature tonight, something you’re sure he would actually love in a different situation. 

   “These are the kind of guys girls avoid you know? People call it something of a warning. Like, ‘avoid guys who listen to The Smiths’.  I don’t mean to generalize or anything, but guys who listen to songs like that don’t end up to be very well in the head. And I also don’t mean to believe rumors but… Well…” You cough awkwardly, but it’s meant to deliver an unspoken message you know will only further test his ire. But you think you have had enough fun for tonight, you don’t wish to turn the night sour for you after all.

   …Or so you thought. 

   “So I’m just trying to say that you should treat me a little better, you know what I mean? I’m putting up with a lot” Everything you say here are meant to be a 50% insult, 30% jab, and 20% jokes. But the last thing you said, you can’t lie and say that you hope he’d take further thought on that. You yearn to hopefully be able to get out of the hotel room that serves as your grandiose cage more, and when you do, you aren’t being watched by an unknown amount of eyes that you know trail on to you by the shadows. That is all you wish for, really. That is to say, you can only wonder what his standards are for ‘treating you better’. 

   Ah, the smile he has on his face is different from before. This one is a sign that your fun is coming to a quick halt. 

   “So that’s what you’re getting at? Resourceful little minx you are.” 

   Why is he sounding so delighted over your insults, is he a masochist? Is he stupid? It’s your turn to cock your eyebrow. 

  “Have you enticed me in this long-winded conversation simply because you wanted to be treated a little better? And the way you had agreed so quickly to that kiss… " He puts a hand to his chest, a mockery of an apology. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to be so blind to your need for affection. You've gone through lengths to communicate your need, I'm very grateful."

  You let out a humorless laugh, “Pardon?” He is just truly-! Argh, whatever! “Did you not hear anything else I said?” You make sure to enunciate your words properly, afraid he might have some sort of hearing problems, well he does and you’re certain it has a name. What was it again? Oh right, an unfortunate combination of delusion and selective hearing… 

  “I know you tend to turn a little childish when you can’t get what you want. That’s not a quality many men like either. So, be a little kinder to me, won’t you?” 

  “Women don’t usually like mass murderers either. Anyone in their right mind, actually.”

   He hums, “That orange container of pills by your nightstand says otherwise. Not the best defense, try again?” 

   “You'd have some too, you just don't have any because you don't go to therapy."

   “Hm, keeping up that attitude won’t make me kiss you any sooner.” 

   “Then I’ll gladly keep this attitude!” 

   Unfortunately you don’t. You’re angry enough to have the energy to spew a million insults at lightspeed against him, but too angry to form a coherent thought that you’re certain would give him a decent jab. And to be frank, you’re rather spent. When you (reluctantly) asked Chrollo what time it was, thankfully he gave you a proper response. A quick tap of his phone showed that it was two and a half hours above your usual bedtime. The clothes you have aren’t the most comfortable either, while it’s not short they certainly expose areas where the wind would have too much fun dancing over. 

   Traffic is clearing as you can see the hotel you are both staying in come into view. You relax at the sight. You can almost feel the warm bath you will be soaking yourself in, what scent will you choose tonight? Rosemary, lavender… Ah, you can smell them already. You prompt to close your eyes for a moment of rest, but you find yourself sleeping on the rest of the way back.

   You feel fingers combing your locks stirring you awake, they’re Chrollo’s, obviously. Although you are half conscious, you recognize that scent of sandalwood and amber anywhere, as much as you’re ashamed to admit it. 

  “Do you want me to carry you?” Chrollo asks, and you murmur something in between a noise of annoyance and a ‘no’. He chuckles at this sight. “Alright then.” 

   He gives a soft peck on your lips, it’s warm. You almost lean in when the warmth of his lips leave yours, this half-conscious state gives him a moment of your vulnerability he has set his eyes on,  the one he relentlessly pursues after so much. But you know that even when he has a grasp at your vulnerability, it won’t stop him from digging for more. Greedy, ruthless man that he is, he will never stop. 

  “You are absolutely precious, you know that? Even if your mouth tends to run without care” Is that condescension or admiration in his voice? Pity, you can’t tell in the state you are in. You’re drunk from the lack of sleep and the future victory you have in mind. 

  “Before I answer that…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, Chrollo merrily leans in closer to hear you. Your lips ghost by the shell of his ear… 

  …

  “Name five songs from The Smiths. Are you like an actual fan or is it just FOMO?” 

   He just sighs. 

header from https://id.pinterest.com/pin/334040497376021340/

#chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #chrollo imagine #hxh chrollo #hxh x reader #yandere chrollo #chrollo brainrot #chrollo is a loser #reader insert #yandere hxh x reader #yandere x reader

[pilfappreciator]

ATTENTION TROLLS FANDOM!!

This is very important. Mostly to me but maybe you guys have been wondering this too idk but anyways:

How does troll reproduction work exactly?

Cuz I'm genuinely curious. I dont think anyone on the series production team has said anything and so far I've seen absolutely no one touch on this subject but as someone who's always had an interest in the habits of creatures (both fictional or otherwise), I kinda sorta maybe NEED to know this otherwise I'll never be able to sleep peacefully again

Full disclaimer that I'm specifically talking about the whole egg situation, I am NOT ASKING HOW THEY GET IT ON IF I WANTED THAT ANSWER I'D GO TO DEVIANT ART OR TWITTER OR WHATEVER LAWLESS PLATFORM GOD STEERS CLEAR OF. This discussion shall remain STRICTLY educational, thank you very much

But anywho. Let's dive in

So trolls come from eggs. This is basic knowledge. First instance of this phenomenon (as far as I know, I've only seen the movies) is from World Tour.

Egg pops out of Guy Diamond's hair, egg hatches and BOOM, (literal) baby. Now I understand that this whole sequence was probably just a gag and a way for DreamWorks to implement another (merchandisable) addition to the cast HOWEVER this sequence also raises a few questions

First off, as far as I know Guy Diamond has no partner (again: I haven't watched any of the spinoff shows). Either that or maybe the other troll was a sorta one-night-stand/no-longer-in-his-life kinda situation? Which is great either way cuz its shown he obviously cares for his son and we at Tumblr appreciate a loving single father no matter the circumstances, but if my former theory is correct than that would imply that trolls are capable of reproducing asexually. Like onions.

Now if that hypothesis is, as they call it, "cap" then that would mean that some sorta hanky panky has to go down before an egg comes into question. And if that's the case, does this mean that male trolls are traditionally the ones who carry the eggs?

But that can't be right, can it? Afterall, World Tour gave us yet ANOTHER egg scene later on in the movie

In Cooper's flashback, we clearly see Queen Essence being the one carrying the eggs meanwhile King Quincy is eggless. Now, as far as i see it, this could be explained either one of four ways:

1) Quincy was the one who actually produced the eggs and Essence is merely holding them for her husband (since her hair seems more fitting to be a makeshift nest compared to Quincy's)

2) Female trolls are the ones who produce the eggs. Guy Diamond is just a trans icon

3) Troll reproduction differs from genre to genre

4) There is a... *sighs* a/b/o type of dynamic among troll kind where certain trolls are capable of giving birth/siring children depending on a secondary gender

In regards to theory #3, this could also explain why Guy Diamond seems to reproduce and hatch an egg in such a short amount of time (like 5 seconds I'm pretty sure) as opposed to Queen Essence/King Quincy who's eggs presumably went a while longer before actually hatching.

Actually, speaking off eggs, are trolls the only species in their world that reproduce that way?

Because now that Band Together has officially been released, we now know for certain that it's possible for different species to crossbreed. Biggest example? Resident DILF Bruce and his giant muppet wife

(Credit to @captainunderkrupp )

When I saw these two... I swear...

And these two already have a shit ton of kids okay so like... either Brandi was the one giving birth or trollsona Daveed Digs was over here pumpin out eggs, which I mean-

DO YOU SEE HOW BIG THESE THINGS ARE COMPARED TO BRANCH AND POPPY?? Believe me I am PRAYING that Bruce gave himself some serious maternity/paternity leave because my guy is honestly a trooper

But yeah any thoughts? :))

#i made a whole nother tumblr account just to ask this question pls somebody gimme their thoughts PLS- #i want someone at dreamworks to make an educational encyclopedia about the different species of the Trolls Universe im not asking for much #Bruce and Brandi make me feel some sort way #i will not be specifeying what way #trolls #trolls band together #trolls world tour #poppy trolls #branch trolls #spruce trolls #bruce trolls #brandi trolls #guy diamond #tiny diamond #gueen essence #king quincy #but thats just a theory A TROLL THEORY #pilf post

[absurdthirst]

Crashing the Party {Dieter Bravo x Plus Sized!F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 13.2k

Warnings: Drug/alcohol use, dubious consent due to intoxication, flirting, Dieter being a menace, face sitting, begging, oral sex (male and female receiving), anal fingering, snorting coke off tits, apply coke to sex organs with sex organs, debauchery, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, hangovers, hurt feelings, drunken behavior, name calling, Dieter doesn't take advantage, hungover sex, make up sex

Comments: Deciding to crash your boss's party, you find that he doesn't recognize you in your sexy nurses costume. Leading you to a night you never expected to have, in your boss's bed.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“It has to be epic!” Dieter declared when he first told you about his idea to have the biggest and best Halloween party in the Hills. He had his party planner invite everyone he knows and he had his drug dealer drop off every drug known to man. He has spent a fortune on this party, even having you pick up his custom costume - a fortune teller - and you watch the party planner and her team scramble to decorate and finish setting up Dieter’s grand mansion. The security will arrive soon and you will leave thereafter. Not invited - not that you expected an invite from your boss but it would’ve been nice - you decide to head home and gorge on Halloween candy while watching horror movies. “This is fucking awesome!” Dieter cries out when he sees the finished set up before the party officially starts and he grabs the bottle of vodka, ready to get the night started. 

**** 

“You know…you should crash his party.” Your roommate tells you as she gets ready for her own party at her boyfriend's house. Her sexy corset makes you fluster as she adjusts her wig. “I got a few costume choices. You could go to the party you helped organize. You can go as a sexy nun…a sexy fairy…or a sexy nurse. There’s wigs too. No one would know it’s you. You should go crash it. Drink his booze.” She urges you, knowing how difficult your boss can be.

Dieter loves throwing parties. People fawn over him and gush about how good the party is. Making him feel useful and wanted. Feelings that he’s been trying to capture and been unable to hold onto over the past few years. His platinum credit card is used to cut a line of coke, giggling as he looks out over the people that are dancing and popping the pills that he has stationed around like candy bowls. A bowl of Molly, a bowl of Ice. There’s even some speedballs that are being passed around. Whatever someone wants, he’s got it here for them. His vodka glass is empty and he frowns dramatically, stumbling to his feet to move to the bar. He can’t do a line of coke without a vodka chaser. 

You manage to get past security, telling them you’re Dieter’s assistant and they saw you earlier so they know you. You get inside without issue and the party is already buzzing. Music playing and groups of people sitting around talking, making out or taking drugs. You step further into the house and see Dieter by the bar, pouring himself a shot. You don’t realize that his eyes have found you but he doesn’t know it’s you. He saunters over to you with a smirk, “well who are you and why aren’t you sitting on my face?” He asks and you wonder if he recognizes you at all. The wig and makeup have transformed you but you don’t think it was enough for Dieter to not know you. 

“Very funny, Bravo.” You scoff and walk past him, determined to have a good time so you locate the bowl of molly and take one. 

Dieter is confused, wondering why this beautiful woman walked past him without even acknowledging that he’s an fucking Oscar winning actor. He will find her again and make sure she knows who he is. Whose party she is attending. It’s kind of distracting, how he had just been ignored. Finding himself abandoning the line of coke to watch the mysterious woman as she pours herself a drink and moves over to the food tables. He hums, watching her hips sway under her costume and he imagines squeezing them as she rides his tongue or his cock, he’s not choosy right now. Hopefully both. Taking another shot of liquid courage, he moves towards the sexy woman and plasters on a cocky smile. “Got meat?” He asks teasingly, right as she is about to put a sausage in her mouth. “It’s good, right? I was told it was the best in L.A. But they hadn’t tried mine.” He jokes, winking at her. 

You stare at him, wondering if he recognizes you at all. You are made up in the sexy nurse costume, wig in place and makeup but you can’t believe your own boss doesn’t recognise your face. Maybe he really doesn’t give a shit about you. You pop the sausage into your mouth, chewing slowly as he stares at you, his eyes dipping down to your mouth. “I’d say this one is pretty damn hard to beat.” You smirk, reaching over the table to pick up some candy, chewing on it as he stands there watching you. 

“So…who are you here with?” He asks, leaning a little closer. 

“No one.” You hum, “heard there was a Sherman Oaks party and I couldn’t miss it.”

“Really?” His brows lift in surprise and he leans in even more. “Do you know who owns this house? Who’s throwing the party?” He asks, not bothering to wait for an answer. “Me. It’s my party, my house.” He smirks. “So….” He tilts his head towards the bar. “Let me buy you a drink and we can discuss how you’re going to ride my cock later on. I’m thinking slow and sensual, really taking your time. But I’m also open to being ridden hard and put up wet. Your call.” 

You nearly choke as your boss asks you to ride his cock. He really doesn’t know who you are because he never wanted you, never saw you as a person, let alone a woman in all your interactions working for him. “I’ll take the drink…and I’ll hold off on the cock.” You chuckle, enjoying seeing him not get what he wants all the damn time.

He pouts immediately but then shrugs it off and decides that he will convince you later on to fuck him. “Pick your poison.” He tells you, grabbing another one of those sausages for you before he guides you over to the bar. “I’ve got practically every liquor you could want. Or any pills.” He chuckles. “Here.” He hands this gorgeous creature the sausage before hopping behind the bar to grin at you. “What will it be?” 

You stare at him as he treats you like a conquest, something that you’ve never had directed at you but you’ve witnessed countless times as he tried to woo any man or woman that caught his eye. “Vodka and cranberry.” You tell him before popping the sausage into your mouth and you can’t resist teasing him but moaning as you chew. It’s gonna be fun to run Dieter ragged trying to seduce you.

His cock twitches at the sound of that sexy little moan and he swears he’s heard your voice before but he can’t place it. Critical thinking while high is never the best thing for him, and he’s popped a few pills before he hadn’t done that line of coke. “Vodka cranberry coming up.” He winks and grabs the bottle of Grey Goose. “Very easy drink.” he pauses as he pours the glass half full of vodka. “You want sprite in it too?”

Your eyes widen at the measure and you know you need to sip that to avoid embarrassing yourself by getting wasted. You nod so he puts the tiniest pour of sprite into the cup. “Thanks.” You thank him, fingers brushing his as you take the red solo cup. You take a sip, wincing at the strength of the vodka and you’re grateful it’s a higher end liquor. Only the best for Dieter Bravo. “You got any molly?” You ask, wanting to get a little high to enjoy the party - might as well since Dieter won’t surface until late afternoon tomorrow if this party goes until dawn. Dieter grins, grabbing the bowl of pills and you hesitate, knowing you shouldn’t get high but damn it, he does it all the time. You pick out a pill, popping it into your mouth and you stare at Dieter as he watches you like you’re the best thing since sliced bread.

He wonders why someone like you has escaped him, you must live nearby. “So, have you been to many Hollywood parties, baby?” He asks, wrapping his arm around you and guiding you towards one of the empty couches. Restraining himself from sliding his hand down to squeeze your generous ass. “What’s your name, by the way?” 

You snort, knowing he’s just drunk and high and you can feel your high creeping over you. “My name…is not necessary unless you want to call me Nurse.” You tease, “and I’m too busy to go to these parties. I got work to do.” You say, sipping your drink as you sit down on the sofa and he practically curls around you. You know he’s drunk and high otherwise he wouldn’t be interested in someone like you.

“Nurse.” He hums, leaning in and dragging his nose along your shoulder. “Are you a naughty nurse?” He asks, grinning at the idea. “I like naughty nurses. And you are a sexy, naughty nurse.” His fingers run along your arm. “How’s your drink, baby?” 

You roll your eyes playfully as he crowds you and it’s overwhelming to be on the receiving end of his flirtations. “Strong.” You answer his question and he smirks, “stiff.” He adds and you giggle, feeling the drug relax you. “You are?” You tease and he groans, leaning in to brush his lips against your ear. 

“I am.” He promises and you know you should tell him who you are to him but you’re enjoying feeling wanted. 

“You really like nurses, huh?”

“I like this nurse.” He promises, drawing a little heart symbol on your arm before he places his hand on your knee. “You smell good too, what are you wearing?” He swears he’s smelled it before, it’s almost comforting. “That perfume?” 

"It's, uh, Carolina Herrera. Good Girl. My mom gave it to me for my birthday." You explain, even though Dieter forgot your birthday...or maybe he didn't even know about it at all. 

"Are you a good girl?" He asks teasingly and you smirk, wanting to mess with him a little more. 

"Sometimes." You whisper, leaning a little closer. Dieter smirks, his hand sliding a little higher up your thigh and you are surprised his attention is on you when he has a plethora of models and actresses in his home. "Can you tell me my future?" You ask him, reaching up to touch his headscarf.

“You want your future told?” He hums, squeezing your ample thigh and groaning when his cock twitches again at your softness. “I see that you are going to go to bed with an Oscar winner.” He predicts with a chuckle. “Who makes you cum with his skilled tongue and big dick.” Leaning in, he bites your jaw playfully. “Licking coke off your tits and sucking Molly off your clit.”

You gasp in arousal at his words, imagining just that. You know he's gifted orally - both professionally and personally from experience and sexually from accounts you've heard from his partners. To have his attention on you has you practically vibrating and you place your hand over his on your thigh and you think he thinks you're pushing him away but you guide it higher. "Is there an Oscar winner nearby?" You play dumb, wanting to rile him up a little.

Dieter growls, both confused that you don’t know who he is and loving that fact. No expectations. No demands. His fingers turn when he twists his wrist and he dives under the stretched out skirt to press against your clit through what feels like lace panties. “You’re in luck, baby. I’m an Oscar winner. And I love coke and Molly.” He smirks, starting to rub a small circle on your clit. “Question is…do you want to have sex with me?” The drugs have taken full effect and he’s hornier than normal. You’re fucking voluptuous and thick, making his mouth water and his cock throb. You remind him of someone he wants, but can’t have.

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry as he rubs you just right on the first move and you swear you could cum for him right then and there. You know it’s the booze and the drugs that makes him want you and the same for you. You have this one night to be with your boss and you won’t deny yourself when he clearly wants you. Tomorrow, you’ll likely kick yourself but he doesn’t know who you are and he never will. You lean in, placing your hand on his upper thigh. “I want to have sex with you. Are you…are you going to leave your party or wait until we are all alone. I gotta warn you…I’m a screamer.” You smirk, leaning in to bite down on his ear lobe with that stupid earring like you've always wanted to.

“Ohhhhh fuck.” Dieter moans. “The party….fuck, it can go on without us.” He pants, loving how eager you are. “We can have our own party. One where you sit on my face and I’ll dip my cock in coke for you to suck off.”

You moan, eager to see how he is in bed. The Molly has you relaxed and you nod, “let’s go, baby.” You order, knowing that at least for tonight, you have Dieter Bravo. He stands up and grabs your hand, scooping up a baggie of coke and a baggie of pills as he pulls you along to his suite. You giggle, the music blaring as people party and the music is muffled as Dieter shuts the door when you’re inside his bedroom.

“Fuck, you’re sexy.” He groans, turning towards you and pulling off the hat of his costume. “Are you wearing lace under there? I thought I felt lace. Who cares? You’re gonna be wearing my face. Or maybe my face will be wearing you? I don’t care, but I want to lick your pussy.”

You smirk, “you wanna find out?” You ask, working on the flimsy buttons of the dress and Dieter stands there, almost hypnotized as he watches you strip off the cheap costume, exposing the lace you are wearing underneath. You know he’s clean, having organized his health checks for filming, so you are comfortable with him touching you. Even though the drug haze, you consider him to be comfortable.

“Fuck.” Dieter groans, eyeing your breasts and your curves. Licking his lips and imaging all the fucking places he could snort or lick drugs off you. “Okay. Yeah. Get undressed.” He quickly yanks his costume shirt over his head and starts to kick off his crocs. “Fuck, you make my dick rock hard, baby.”

You clench around nothing, imagining him naked far too many times to be professional as his assistant but you’ve been curious. “Show me.” You order, slipping out of your heels and he nods, shoving his baggy pants down his legs to display the bulge in his briefs - a rare clothing item he wears but needed for the party. You are glad he likes what he sees and you reach behind you to unclasp your bra, letting him see your tits for the first time.

“Goddamn.” Dieter groans, twitching again at the sight of your breasts, nipples hard and begging for his lips wrapped around them. “I can’t wait to suck on those while you bounce on my cock.” He palms himself and then hooks his fingers into his briefs to strip them down, letting his cock spring free and start to curl up as he kicks them off. He reaches for the pills and pops one in his mouth to swallow and then smirks. “Come here, sexy. Wanna make you feel good.”

Your eyes widen at the sight of his cock. You've seen him naked before. Unavoidable when you are trying to wake him up for an early call time and he sleeps naked, but you have never seen him hard. Not like this. Your mouth drops and he chuckles, gesturing for you to come over to him and you do, "fuck Dieter. I didn't - you're so thick." You reach down to take him into your hand.

Dieter’s grin quickly slides into a moan. “You- fuck, that had is so soft around me.” He pants, moaning again when you squeeze him as if to prove him wrong. His hands reach up to cup your tits and he swipes his thumbs over your nipples.

You moan as he pinches your nipples and he surges forward to press his lips to yours. Your tongue slides against his and you squeeze his cock a little harder as his hands fondle your tits.

He’s never had someone that is so unabashedly sexy and isn’t even trying. You are naturally sexy and he slides his hands down to squeeze your hips. “Fuck baby, get on my face.” He pants, excited to taste you.

You pull back, biting your lip, “are you sure? I- I’m not light.” You feel the self consciousness creep in as Dieter asks you to sit on his face. Even the booze and the drugs can’t stop it. “You want me to suck your cock?” You offer, wanting him to be distracted by another option.

Dieter grunts, shaking his head. “Only if you suck my cock while those thick thighs frame my head.” He grins, reaching one hand down and slapping a thigh.

You nod, knowing that Dieter doesn’t do what he doesn’t want to do. You let go of his cock and he pulls you over to the bed, laying down and patting his cheeks. “Take a seat, baby girl.” He orders and you hesitate as you kneel on the bed but he doesn’t give you a chance to say no as he tugs you over to straddle his face. It’s a little awkward as you hover over him until his tongue darts out to flick your clit and you moan.

​​He moans at the first taste of your cunt. Immediately falling in love with the musky, tangy taste, he pulls you down onto his lips firmly and groans into you as he starts to eat you out. Dieter might be selfish in a lot of ways, but he wants to give you pleasure, make you shake above him and his cock spurts some pre-cum from how excited he is.

You see his cock leaking and you can’t resist bending over to take him into your hand and within seconds, into your mouth. You moan around him, unable to believe how thick he is as he twitches inside your mouth. His tongue slides into your cunt and you relax, letting your weight drop more onto his face.

He groans like you are giving him the best gift when you shift onto him more. Enjoying the weight of you, the feeling of being smothered by you. His hands hold onto your hips, licking desperately into your wet little hole and wishing he could see how fucking sexy this looks. Your mouth around his cock feels amazing, like you are sucking his soul out, making him gasp into your folds.

You grip the base of his cock, pumping what doesn’t fit into your mouth and you moan when he sucks on your clit. His fingers are digging into your hips and you know you could smother him but he seems to be enjoying it.

He rocks his hips up, pulling your own back onto him more as you pull off his cock. Groaning at how sexy this is. Your split slides down into the hair at the base of his cock and he curls his tongue and pushes deeper before pulling it out, starting to fuck you with it and burying it as deep as he can, his nose pressed against your puckered hole.

You rest your cheek on his thigh after letting his cock drop from your mouth and you moan his name, “fuck. You - you’re so good.” You pant, his mouth working you up as his nose presses into your flesh. “You’re gonna make me cum.” You tell him breathlessly, your fingers wrapping around his cock and you take him back into your mouth, moaning around him again and again until he sends you over the edge. His cock falling from your mouth again as you cum, your cry echoing off of the walls of his bedroom.

Groaning happily, Dieter lets your arousal coat his face, smothering himself in your juices and he wonders if it's been a long time since you've cum or if you always cum that much. The frantic tongue fucking turns to languid, indulgent licks until you pull away from his mouth and make him whine at the loss of his new favorite treat.

You lift your hips off of his face and he whines in protest. “Baby. Baby. Baby.” You whimper, shifting off of him and you move to lay down beside him, reaching for him to cup his cheek so you can press your lips to see, tasting yourself on his tongue. “God, I see why they say your tongue is magic now.” You confess, reaching down to take his cock in your hand again.

"You need to see on my cock and see why they call it magical." He whines, rocking his hips up into your grip. "Fuck me, my pretty nurse. Or let me fuck you, I just know I'm gonna die if I don't slide into that perfect pussy."

“Fuck. I- you wanna - you wanna fuck me from behind?” You ask him, curious how he wants you and you don’t want to ride him, knowing he’d see you in an unflattering angle. “Then you can do coke off of my tits.” You offer, the drugs making you chattier than you’d normally be during sex.

"Fuck, you're perfect." He groans, reaching up and grabbing the back of your neck to drag you to him for another kiss. "Get to watch my dick plow into your pussy and making your ass jiggled and I get to snort coke off your tits? You're the fucking best."

You kiss for a few moments before he’s pulling back to tell you to get onto your knees. You obey, shifting onto your hands and knees, ass jiggling as you wiggle your hips while he kneels behind you. “Fuck me. I- I have an IUD. You can cum inside me if you want. Or use a condom. I don’t care. Just fuck me.”

Dieter giggles, slapping your ass before he caresses it. "You want my cock, baby?" He coos as he wraps his hand around his cock and pumps it as he shuffles up to press the head against your entrance.

You grind back against him, trying to push him inside but he teases you, making you hiss in frustration. You whimper and he takes pity, pushing deep inside of you in one thrust and you cry out loud enough for anyone passing in the hall to hear you. “Fuck!” You shriek, loving how it feels as he pushes deep and your ass jiggles as he smacks it.

"Oh fuck, you naughty, naughty, nurse." He groans out, grinding his hips and throbbing inside you. His hands caress your ass as he waits for you to adjust to him. He knows he's thick, that it can be a lot, so he just strokes from your tits down to your thighs.

Your head hangs between your shoulders as he lets you adjust to him and fuck, he’s thick. It’s enough to make you want to tap out but you ain’t a quitter. You take a deep breath and relax, giving yourself a moment until the burn fades. “You can move.” You tell him, looking over your shoulder.

"Fuck, baby." Dieter grits his teeth and digs his fingers into your ample flesh. Loving how he can be rougher with you and it doesn't feel like he's grinding against your bones. "I'm going to enjoy this so much. Touch yourself. Rub your pretty clit while I fuck you."

"Okay. Okay." You can't disobey him, reaching down to rub your clit, and your walls flutter around his cock as he starts to move inside of you. "So good." You choke, feeling more than anything you've felt in years.

Starting to rock into you, Dieter loves how your cunt flutters around him. "Oh fuck baby, best cunt I've ever been inside." He grunts, eyes rolling back before looking down at the way your ass shakes and you take his cock. "Jesus, you feel so good."

"You - you're just pussy drunk." You snort playfully as he rocks into you and you moan his name as he punches deep enough to hit your cervix. 

"Drunk on the best pussy I've ever had." He pants and you chuckle breathlessly, "bet you say that to all the nurses."

He groans, thrusting into you harder as he feels like his entire body is on fire. Leaning over you, he cups your tits and bites your shoulder as he fills you again and again. "Tight and warm." He groans. "So fuckin' wet, baby. This pussy is so fuckin' wet. So good."

"And - and you're so thick. God, is it the drugs or does this - this is the best sex I've ever had and I haven't even cum yet." You confess, rocking back onto him and he pinches your nipples.

"The best sex you've ever had." Dieter grunts, huffing out an amused laugh that you would think of anything else. "Because it's sex with me. God, you're so goddamn pretty. I could fuck you all the time."

"Do it. Fu- fuck me every day." You moan, rubbing your clit a little harder. You always thought your boss got laid and had people fawning over him because he was an Oscar winning actor but it turns out it's because he's a fucking sex god.

"Fuck." He groans at the thought of it. "Get you other nurse outfits, have you wear them all the time and sit on my cock. Let me finger you. Tongue fuck you. Have you suck my cock."

“Yessss.” You hiss, rocking back onto him as you get closer to your orgasm. “I can - I can be your - your sex doll. Wanna - wanna just have you fuck me all day. Have you lick my clit all day making me cum over and over until - until I let you fuck me. You’d have to be a good boy.” You ramble, lost in the pleasure as you imagined dominating Dieter a little.

His cock twitches deep inside you, moaning at the thought of that. "I'll be a good boy." He promises. "Fuck, no one wants to take care of me. It's always getting fucked by the movie star. No one just wants to take charge and fuck me."

You moan, wanting to take charge of him, to have him putty in your hands. “I can take charge. Ride you. Keep you from cumming until I’m satisfied.” You tell him, clenching around him to make your point as he pushes deep. “I’d make you beg me to cum.” You promise him, “you want me to make you beg now?” You ask breathlessly, wanting to hear him beg you for once after he orders you around all day.

"Fuck yes." He pulls out of you and flops down onto the bed. "Ride me, make me beg, baby." He urges you, eyes wide with desire as he looks over at you. "Please."

You should feel self conscious but the drugs and booze have you feeling confident as you shift to straddle him. Reaching down to grip his cock, you position him at your entrance and slowly start to sink down on him, your eyes meeting his as his gaze flicks between your pussy and your face.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck baby." He whimpers, toes curling and his hands hold onto your hips like a lifeline. "Jesus." his eyes roll back. "You're so gorgeous. You are so sexy, so fucking thick and beautiful."

His words spur you on and you start to rock your hips, grabbing onto the headboard behind him for leverage. “You are gonna make me cum. You can’t cum until I tell you to. Do you understand?” You ask and he nods. You let go of the headboard to grip his chin, making his eyes meet yours, “do you understand? Use your words.”

"Yessss baby." Your eyes are so fucking familiar but he can't help to stare into them. Watching you start to take your pleasure from him. "Anything you want. I'll make you cum, I want to make you cum."

You let go of his chin, gripping the headboard again. You rock your hips, grinding on him and your clit rubs against his pelvis and you pant out. “So close.” You announce and Dieter looks at you in awe, “cum for me baby.” He orders and you rock faster, chest heaving until you shake above him, clamping down on his cock as you cum around him.

He groans, twitching in your walls as you soak him. Loving how you moan and shake for him. Watching every move you make as you cum. He whimpers, wanting to cum, but you had told him that he couldn't cum until you told him that he could.

You come to a stop, thighs shaking and you look at him once you open your eyes. “Don’t cum.” You remind him, staying still on top of him. “I want to cum again.” He whines and you gently slap his cheek, “don’t whine. You’re gonna wait to cum.” You demand, loving the look in his eyes as you take control.

His pupils are blown wide, nearly making his eyes black as he looks up at you. "Yes, n-nurse." He pants out, letting go of your hips to reach up and grab hold of the headboard. Needing it to ground himself so he doesn't cum. "I'll be good. Want you to cum."

You smirk, “such a good boy for me.” You coo, caressing his cheek and you start to move again. You feel powerful and in control, something you’ve never felt when dealing with Dieter. “You’re - you’re so good.” You moan, starting to move a little faster and you bounce in his cock, spurred on by the power over him as he lays beneath you.

“All for you, baby.” He groans, closing his eyes for a moment so he doesn’t blow. Especially because your tits are in his face. “God, you ride my dick so well. It’s - fuck- you’re a dick riding artist.”

You moan, loving the praise, and you rock a little faster, your clit rubbing against his pelvis and you’re getting closer to another orgasm. “Shit. I- It’s - Shit. Shit. Cum with me. Cum for me.” You plead, wanting him to fall over the edge with you.

Dieter shudders, whining and immediately rocking his hips up to thrust up into you. “Yes baby, fuck, yes.” He moans, feeling his toes curling and his body starting to shake as he gets close to cumming. “Gonna cum.” He cries, thrusting up to bury his cock deep in your pussy as he paints your walls with his cum.

You cry out, shaking above him again and you love how it feels to have him fill you up, his cock twitching inside of you. You bounce on him until you come to a stop and his hips thrust up to ride his high as you clamp down on him. “Oh my God.” You pant, collapsing forward to rest on his chest. “Such - so good for me.” You exhale shakily.

“Ohhh that was so good.” He preens under the praise, his arms wrapping around you and he kisses whatever part of you he can reach, “so good. Don’t, fuck- we need another drink, right?” He asks, thirsty after the sex and he knows you have to be.

“Another drink.” You agree and he kisses along your neck as he rolls you onto your side, his softening cock slipping out of you. “You want - I can get your drink.” You slip into old habits as you look at your boss while he relaxes on his expensive sheets.

“That was good.” He shoves his hand behind his head and watches you. Frowning slightly when you seem to know exactly how the bar is laid out.

You work fast to prepare his favorite drink…tequila and soda with a lime and a salted rim. He loves to order it. You set it down on the nightstand and pick up your own vodka and cran, shifting awkwardly after you wiped his cum from between your legs with some cocktail napkins.

“Do you want to go back to the party or have our own party up here for the rest of the night?” Dieter asks, rolling over slightly to grab his drink and grinning lecherously at you. Normally he would be itching to join the party, but not tonight. He’s being greedy, wanting more time with you.

You know you should leave but you’ll only have Dieter for tonight before he passes out and likely forgets you even existed. Especially since he doesn’t recognize you. You sip your drink and smirk, “I thought you were gonna snort coke off of my tits first?”

"Oooooh yeah, that's right." He lights up and sets the tequila down to open the drawer of the nightstand to pull a small baggie out. "Can I? Maybe off your pussy too?" He groans. "The fucking taste of your cum, my cum and coke would be amazing, baby."

You nod, wanting to see this unhinged side of Dieter you’ve heard so much about and the drugs you’ve taken have made you loose and relaxed enough to enjoy yourself. “Whatever you want. I’m yours for tonight.”

"My little cum doll." He trills in delight and then grins, opening the packet and standing up to dip the tip of his cock in the cocaine. "Lay down and spread those gorgeously thick thighs, nurse. I have to apply the medicine to your pussy lips."

You inhale sharply at the way he kneels between your thighs and you spread them, watching as his eyes darken when he sees the remnants of his cum on your folds. "Dieter." You whimper when the head of his cock traces your cunt.

"It's okay, pretty nurse." He teases, knowing that he's switched to be more dominant right now. He goes that frequently. "Dieter’s gonna take care of you.” While he's tracing his coke laced cock through your folds, he uses his other hand to pour a line of the white powder out over your soft tits. "Fuck, you look like a fucking meal."

Your chest heaves as you watch him, almost animalistic in his gaze, and you whimper when he lets go of his cock to grab your tit, lifting it up so he can lean down to snort some coke off of your skin.

Your skin is damp with sweat and it makes him groan at the smell of you and the powder. Snorting up the line quickly, and following it up with his tongue to make sure he gets every spec of the coke off your body before he drags his tongue over to your nipple to start sucking on it hungrily again. You are letting him indulge and he wants to make sure he does everything he can think of to make this fun.

You whimper, running your fingers through his hair as he sucks on your nipple. “That - that feel good, baby?” You ask him, wondering if he feels as good as you do. “Fuck. I- I want you to suck it off my pussy.” You tell him, wanting to feel his tongue again.

“Fuck yes.” Dieter groans, popping off your nipple and immediately diving down below. “Look at that.” He huffs, pulling your lips apart to see his cum gathered in your folds and specks of the Coke mixed with it and your own juices. “Like a perfect, creamy dessert.” He dives in eagerly, burying his tongue into your cunt, headless of his own taste.

“Oh shit!” You gasp as he laps at your cunt, cocaine intermingled with your combined cum and he is ravenous, lapping at you like a man starved. You tangle your fingers in his hair and moan, your thighs pressed against his cheeks.

Dieter moans, continuously lapping at your clit and making sure that he cleans up every flake of the cocaine off your pussy. Addicted to this filth of the action and how much you are enjoying it as well. He groans, sliding his hands up to squeeze your breasts as he tries to drown himself in your cunt.

“Holy shit.” You moan loud and proud as his tongue works magic again. Your hands cover his over your tits and you rock your hips up to meet his mouth. “Fuck baby. Your mouth- so good. Not just for acting.” You tease breathlessly.

He looks up at you and winks, lifting his mouth up off your clit for a split second. "Knew you recognized me." He crows before he descends on your cunt again. Eager to make you cum.

You chuckle, “everyone knows you. I just liked pulling your leg.” You lift your leg onto his shoulder so he can push his tongue deeper inside of your pussy, “fuckkk. That’s - right there.” You pant as he sucks on your clit like it’s a hard candy.

He huffs into your folds, squeezing your tits again and if he's offended, he doesn't show it. Determine to prove that he can make you cum harder than before.

Your thighs shake as he works you up until you are squealing as you cum again. Your thighs threaten to smother him and your walls clamp down around nothing as he makes you cum harder than before. “Oh God.” You pant, your fingers tugging on his hair to keep him there.

He chuckles, lightening up on the pressure of his tongue and he slowly laps on your clit. Enjoying the feeling of your fingers tugging on his hair. He loves when he makes someone feel good so they lavish praises on him.

You try to catch your breath as he laps at your skin, trailing from your belly to your tits. “God. Are you - are you hard?” You ask, reaching down to wrap your fingers around him when you get your answer. “You want to fuck me again? Or me to suck you off?”

Dieter groans, rocking his hips up into your hand. "Fuck baby, I want whatever you want." He starts to babble. "I just want you to touch me. Be with me."

“Let me suck you off.” You order and push on his chest. He lays down and you shuffle down his body, taking his cock into your mouth without hesitation, wanting to taste him. To hear him whine.

"Oh fuck, oh shit baby." Dieter's moans are loud, his eyes clenching tight. "Your mouth is so fucking good. Oh God, holy shit.' He pants out, reaching down to cup your cheek. "You're so good to me."

He’s thick but you won’t quit as you take him deeper, pushing him down your throat and you breathe harshly through your nose as you try to stop gagging. Your eyes meet his and you slide your hand up to fondle his balls.

“Oh fuck, yess.” He moans. “Okay, with my balls, just like that.” He’s falling in love. A filthy girl who loves sex and drugs? Absolutely in love. “You’re perfect, so fucking perfect, baby.”

His praises spur you on and you roll his balls between your fingers until you slide your hand lower to caress the skin between his balls and his ass. His cock twitches inside of you and you move your finger further back, caressing his puckered hole until you gently push your finger inside, his cock still down your throat.

“Oh shiiiiiiiiiit.” Dieter chokes out, surprised by the finger but clamping down around it as you press against his prostate. “Gonna cum!” He whines, the combination of your mouth and fingering his ass has him over the edge quicker than before.

You swallow around him, his cum spurting down your throat and you work him through it, enjoying the wrecked look on his face and the way he sounds like you’ve just swallowed his soul.

“Oh god. Oh fuck. You’re so- I fuckin’ love your mouth.” Dieter pulls you up, wanting to kiss you, snuggle into you. “You’re gonna stay, right?” He asks, suddenly exhausted from the sex.

You nod, the high fading along with the pleasure and you shift to lay down on his pillows after gently withdrawing from his body. His arms wrap around you and you can’t resist curling into his chest, kissing the space above his heart. “I’ll stay.”

**** 

Dieter always wakes up slowly. Especially after a night of partying. He snorts, coughing and starts to peel his eyes open. Wrapped around a pillow, he turns over and expects to see the goddess that had graced his bed, changed his fucking world last night. Frowning when he sees empty, rumpled sheets. “Nurse?” He calls out, sitting up and looking towards the bathroom. It’s crazy he didn’t get a name, but he’s going to change that this morning. “Baby? Are you taking a piss?”

**** 

You freak out when you get home, not even bothering to shower at Dieter’s and you can’t believe you slept with your boss. Your head aches from the hangover and you just want to get in the shower and pass out for a few hours. Thankfully, Dieter likely won’t surface until noon so you have some time before you have to be at his house with his post party McDonald’s that he always denies. You get in the shower, washing him off you and you pray he doesn’t recognize you in the light of day.

Walking through the house reveals plenty of people who passed out, a lamp that’s been destroyed, but no nurse. He’s upset, confused as to why she didn’t stay when she promised she would and trudges back upstairs to climb back in the bed again. Depressed that the woman who had made him feel amazing had just left without a word. He knows how Cinderella's prince feels now.

You make your way over to Dieter’s to find the normal clean up crew sorting out his home and you carry his McDonalds meal through the house to see what he is up to. You find him sitting in bed with his glasses on, looking through his notebook. “How are you feeling, boss?” You ask him, wondering if he will realize it’s you and praying he doesn’t. Dieter might’ve wanted you last night but you know he’d hate to find out it’s you in the cold light of day.

“Do you have a list of all the guests invited?” Dieter asks you, frowning as he looks up at you. He almost asks if you had come, but then he realizes that would be ridiculous, you hate spending time with him unless it’s to do your job. “No, she said she was party crashing.” He sighs. “Do we have cameras here? I don’t know.” It’s crazy, but he doesn’t know what his security system entails. 

“Who- who are you looking for?” You ask after clearing your throat and you set the food down on the nightstand as he sits there, naked under the sheets most likely with his glasses perched on his nose.

"I met someone." Dieter tells you. "She's perfect and I need to find her, find out why she left this morning and convince her to - to date me." He huffs. "She's my Cinderella and I have wig that's her glass slipper." He reaches over and holds up the wig that she had worn for you to see. "Except I think that's a ‘one size fits all’ kind of thing."

You are shocked he wants to see "you/her" again after you figured he'd move on to his next conquest. The mystery nurse might be the topic of conversation for today but you know Dieter will forget come tomorrow. "Yeah. Those are one size fits all." You confirm, biting your lip as he checks the wig for any clues. "What was so special about this one?"

“She was amazing.” Dieter gushes, sighing and smiling as he remembers the night. “Sexy, bold enough to keep me on my toes.” His cock twitches under the sheets. “Sat on my face and rode my cock like a fucking goddess. I’ve got to find her. Wanted to take her out.”

You are shocked at the lovestruck look on his face but you know he’s just pussy drunk. “Oh, uh, wow. She was that good?” You can’t deny that you’re a little pleased that you’ve gotten Dieter in this state. You snort when he nods rapidly. “Wow. You can’t have a lot of people finger your ass.” You murmur.

"What did you say?" Dieter eyes widen drastically and he lurches forward to grab your hand. "Do you know her? Did she say something? You have to give me her number." The only way you know about that detail is if she told you.

You curse your slip up, letting him squeeze your hand. “I- I don’t know her. I haven’t spoken to anyone. I don’t have her number.” You answer his questions, “besides, I thought you were in love with that model you fucked a couple of weeks ago.”

"I didn't fuck her." Dieter admits, letting go of your hand and shaking his head. 

"Bullshit Dee, I was there when you two were getting out of bed." 

He winces and groans. "I- I was too fucked up. I couldn't- it doesn't matter. I don't give a shit about her. I want the woman from last night." He huffs.

You huff, “doesn’t matter. I’m gonna have to get tested now. Fucking drugs making me forget to be serious and I - i shouldn’t have come to the party last night. Not when you want someone like that model. You want an actress or a model. Someone who can understand your job and who is gorgeous and thin and perfect.”

Dieter frowns, trying to understand and then it hits him. "You?" He gasps out, his jaw dropping. "It was you? Why would you- why didn't you?" He frowns again. "You lied to me." Dieter murmurs. "Why would you lie to me?"

You wince, stepping away from him. “I had to. I- I crashed your party because you didn’t invite me. You’re just- you want your models and your actors here to party with you and I wanted a night off to pretend to be someone else and I ended up being myself with you…just in costume. I’m sorry I lied. I- I’ll hand my resignation in to your manager this afternoon.”

You turn around to start walking out of his bedroom and Dieter jumps out of the bed. Not giving a damn if he's still naked, he rushes forward to stop you. "No! Don't, you can't resign. Please." He begs, grabbing your hand and tugging you to a stop.

You turn to look at him in shock. “I- I don’t understand. You slept with me last night. Me. The woman who gets your coffee. That sees the worst parts of you when you’re high and you still want me here after you fucked me? Are you sure? I- I’m surprised you’re not grossed out.”

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He frowns, angry that someone would say something like that about you. "Who would be grossed out? You're my sexy, naughty nurse? I can't- it's amazing. I've never felt as good as I have with you. Last night was - you let me snort and lick coke off your body. You- you made me cum so fucking hard that I swear I saw stars. Why wouldn't I want you here? I wanted you here when I woke up."

“You say that now but I know you’ll get tired of me. You’ll move on to the next best thing when they come along and I- shit - I know you will get bored of me. I’m the new shiny toy. The shine will wear it off and you’ll fire me.” You sigh, “let’s just skip to the firing part, okay? I misled you. I- I tricked you. You should be mad at me.”

"Why? Why would I get bored of you?" Dieter feels like you are rejecting him and he doesn't like it. "Was it- was it just bragging rights?" He asks quietly. "To say you fucked your boss? A conquest?"

Your eyes widen, “no. No. I- trust me, Dieter. The last thing I expected when I came to the party was to sleep with you. I thought you were messing with me at first when you told me to sit on your face. When you didn’t recognize me…I guess I just wanted to be on the receiving end of your flirting…to feel wanted for once.” You confess softly, avoiding his gaze. “I know I was a one time thing. We had a good time and now…well, my fate is in your hands.”

Dieter frowns, trying to understand why you hadn’t stayed. Why you had run away and left him wondering what the hell he had done wrong. “Why is it a one time thing?” He asks, confused. 

You snort and toss up your hands. “You hit on everyone. Anyone with a pulse. Anyone but me. I know I’m not your type. I’m too- too not a model.” 

Dieter stares at you for a moment before he starts to laugh. “Not my type! You think you’re not my type?” He doubles over laughing and you huff. 

“You’ve never once even looked my way.” You remind him. 

“That’s because Tina threaten to cut my dick off if I hit on you and drove you away!” He tells you, having run off too many assistants before he had found you. “Threatened my dick!”

You chuckle, knowing Tina has been a massive part of controlling him when he threatens to go off the rails. “I must admit I’ve thought about doing that a lot too.” You reveal, “let’s just - just call this what it is. A mistake. You want me now because I’m unattainable but as soon as you take me out and we sleep together a few times, you’ll get bored and move on to the next pretty thing. That’s what you do. I don’t want to risk my job…our working relationship.”

Dieter sighs, knowing he can’t convince you to give him a chance. “That’s not what I want, but okay.” He turns around and walks back to the bed slowly. Wanting to crawl in and just pretend he had never woken up. “Just- I don’t care, I guess I had an amazing dream last night.”

You nod, knowing this is for the best, so you clear your throat. “I’ll - I’ll head home. Your food is getting cold. Text me if you need anything else.” You tell him and shuffle awkwardly when he doesn’t respond so you exit his bedroom and make your way out of his house, tears in your eyes because your boss will never feel the same way you do, even if he doesn’t know how you feel.

Dieter considers getting high. He considers calling up someone to come over and fuck him. Ignoring the food you had left, he wallows in bed, listening to the cleaning service the party planner had hired to clean up today. Wondering why he had not recognized you when it’s so fucking obvious now. Feeling alone and miserable and hating that his hopeful plans had been crushed. You don’t want him and it’s killing him because you should be throwing yourself at him.

You head home, not sure how you even get there as you grip the steering wheel and wonder how he didn’t recognize you. You wish you could turn around, go and see him, but you can’t. He’d just break your heart. When you get home, your roommate is lounging on the sofa and she says she’s heading out tonight too, going to this new bar if you wanna join her. Usually, you’d have to say no in case you need to be sober and on call for Dieter but you decide to say fuck it and tell her you’ll go. You get ready, dressing in a cute dress to try and make yourself feel better and you head out to the bar. “What’s got you down?” Your roommate asks as she leans against her boyfriend and you shake your head, picking up your drink to down it. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” You confess and she scoffs, “is it your asshole boss again? Seriously, he’s a fucking jackass. I don’t know why you don’t quit.” She says and you shake your head, needing another drink. 

“You don’t know what it’s like…I- I can’t quit because I - shit. It doesn’t matter.” You huff and stand up to get another drink. You’re set on getting drunk tonight to try and forget all about your boss. You need to forget about him.

Dieter sighs as he flips through the channels. Hating how he has the biggest cable package and there isn’t shit to watch. He is bored and the idea of partying just sours on his stomach, so he’s sitting at home like an asshole, pining over his assistant. His phone buzzes and he almost ignores it, but he looks over and sees that it’s you. Scrambling to answer it. “Hello? Hello? I’m here. Hey.”

You lean against the bar, "you - you bastard." You slur slightly and Dieter pulls back to look at the phone in shock. 

"Excuse me?" He asks and you chuckle. 

"You he-heard me. You fucking bastard. You sexy...funny...talented, asshole. So - so fucking handsome and God, now I know how good you are in bed and I - you bastard." You repeat, the phone pressed against your ear.

“You’re drunk.” He chuckles, realizing that you have apparently had a little too much to drink after leaving here. 

“And? What of it?” You huff. “I’m a -a adult. I can drink if I want to.” 

Dieter grins, enjoying the slightly belligerent attitude and the sass. “Yes you can, and you licked Coke off my dick if I remember right.” He hums, leaning back against the pillows. “Where are you?”

You ramble off the bar name without thinking, lost in your thoughts, and you continue, "yes. Yes I did. And you fucking loved it. I can't - I can't get your face out of my mind. You looked - God, so sexy. Wish I could've taken a photo. Only chance I'm gonna have to see it."

“That’s not true.” Dieter decides he’s going to get you, getting out of the bed and putting pants on. They are sweats, in better condition than his normal outfits. “You saw my face today.” You huff, blowing a raspberry through the phone. “You know what I mean.” That makes Dieter chuckle as he bounds down the stairs and grabs his car keys. “You looked sexy on my face.” He tells you. “Fucking tasted even better.”

You groan, “see? It’s shit like that that has me in this trouble. You can’t - you can’t just say that and not expect people to fall in love with you.” You rub your eye, smudging your mascara. “You - you’re a horny bastard and you will fuck anyone. I’m not special. Just the flavor of the week.”

Dieter knows you won’t believe him if he says that’s not true. He would have to prove it to you. “So you fell in love with me?” He hones in on that line as he speeds down the road towards the bar you named. It’s one he knows pretty damn well and he wonders if you chose it for that reason. “Because I fucked you? Because of the tongue thing?”

“Nooooo.” You whine, “it’s not - I mean, the tongue thing was fucking amazing but no. It’s - it’s you. I see a side of you that no one else sees and you are a good man. You don’t think you are because you think you have to have this fucking persona, but you’re sweet and kind when you want to be. God, you just - you need someone to ground you.” You sigh, leaning against the bar. “And that person- you need someone incredible.”

“I found someone incredible.” In that, Dieter is completely honest. He realized he doesn’t care about how famous his partner is or what drugs they take. He wants someone who makes him feel like you did last night. “Someone I want to be with.” He hopes you realize he’s talking about you. You should. “I’m going to pick her up right now.”

You don’t pick up what he’s saying too busy moping as you nurse your drink and you sigh down the phone. “Of course you are. I bet she’s perfect for you.” You huff and he chuckles as he pulls into the parking lot. 

“She is.” He says and you groan, “of course. Fuck. I- I hope she makes you happy.” You say and you don’t see him standing in the doorway to the bar.

“She does.” He answers and your roommate’s eyes widen when she sees Dieter walking towards you. “I - I want you to be happy. You deserve it.”

“Just have to convince her to go home with me.” He tells you, walking up and pulling his phone away from his ear. “Hey baby.” He grins when your head snaps up and you stare at him with a shocked expression. “What are you doing- I’m here?” You ask and he snorts. 

“I’m trying to convince the woman I love to come home with me. She’s drunk right now, so I’m hoping she’s crazy enough to believe me when I tell her I want to be with her. Spend all my nights with her. Pleasure her. Because I love her.”

You stare at him in shock, glancing behind you to make sure he wasn’t talking to someone else. “Me?” You ask, pointing to yourself and he nods, chuckling at you. You stumble as you surge forward, cupping his cheeks as you lean in to kiss him.

Dieter laughs as you kiss him, wrapping his arms around you and holds you close. “I love you, baby.” He promises, pressing his lips to yours again and again while your roommate watches on in shock.

“Take me home.” You plead, suddenly desperate for him and your roommate stands up to come over and ask if you’re okay. “Okay? I’m - I’m on top of the world.” You promise her, slurring slightly. “Dieter is gonna take me home.”

She frowns and turns to Dieter. “She’s drunk.” She huffs, poking him in the chest. “She can’t do anything.” Dieter rolls his eyes and grabs your roommate's hand and pats it, “I’m going to take her home and put her to bed.” He promises her quietly. “I don’t want to take advantage of her. I just want to sleep beside her and wake up with her like I should have this morning.”

Your roommates eyes widen, “wait - you- you slept together last night?” She asks and you answer before Dieter does. “Yesss and he was incredible. Made me cum so many times and his tongue…talented for more than just acting, I’ll tell you that.”

He smirks proudly and looks back at your roommate. “I’m going to take her home with me. But don’t worry.” He tells her seriously. “I’m not that kind of man. I like complete and enthusiastic consent and if she’s drunk and I’m sober? That shit doesn’t work for me.”

You lean against him, kissing his neck. “You better look after her.” Your roommate narrows her eyes at him. “I will.” He promises her, wrapping his arm around your waist to steady you. “Come on baby, let’s get you home to bed. To sleep.” He adds and you pout, saying goodbye to your roommate with “bye babe. I’m gonna go ride this gorgeous face.” You say, squeezing Dieter’s chin as he guides you to his car.

Dieter chuckles as he opens the door for you and you don’t want to let him go. It’s strange to be the one taking care of you, but he kind of likes it. “The sooner we get home, the sooner you can climb into bed with me.” He tells you, using the same tactics you use on him. Bribery.

You get in his car and when he’s inside and driving to your place, you reach over to squeeze his cock through his pants. “God. Your cock is so beautiful. Should’ve been a porn star. You would’ve made double the money you’ve made.” You giggle, wanting to suck his cock again.

“Fuck, you’re so horny when you’re drunk.” He groans, hating that you’re drunk and he’s sober. He reaches for your hand and takes it off his cock, squeezing it and putting it on his thigh so he can back out of the parking space. “What changed your mind baby?” He asks. “You were convinced I wouldn’t want you.”

You sigh, lifting your hand off of his thigh to lean your head against the cool glass of the passenger window. “I just want you to fuck me one last time before you lose interest and get distracted to go with someone else.”

“Why do you think I’ll lose interest?” He asks seriously. “Have I ever run after someone? Chased them?”

You close your eyes, suddenly exhausted, “no. You - you never chase. You want people to come to you. To make you feel special. You want validation and - and you get it. From whoever you want. I’m not enough for you.” You confess, knowing you’re spilling your guts again.

“Didn’t I just come to you?” He asks, reaching over and taking your hand. “I just chased you down and I’m dragging you back to my bed.” He snorts. “And I’m not even going to fuck you tonight. I just want to wrap my arms around you and sleep. Give you water and aspirin so you aren’t hung over. Hold your hair if you need to puke.”

He is soon putting the car in park and you are nearly asleep against the window, enjoying the coolness of the glass and you smile against it. “Just tonight. Let me have tonight.” You plead softly.

“You’ll have tonight.” He promises, getting out of the car to walk around and help you out. Not rushing you into the house to fuck you, he grins as you nearly stumble. “You’re so fucking cute.”

You lean against him, desperately wanting to strip off and get into bed, and his arm wraps around your waist. “I got you, baby.” He promises, “gonna get you some water and aspirin.” He assures you and you turn your head to kiss his neck, “thank you.”

He hums, enjoying the kiss but he can’t kiss you, not when you are like this. He guides you into the house and upstairs. “Let me get that water, baby.” He murmurs softly. “You get in the bed.”

You don’t argue, stripping down to your underwear and you slide under the covers. “Come here baby. I want you to fuck me.” You order, wanting him to touch you while you know he still wants you.

Dieter grabs a water and the aspirin, thankful for the little fridge you keep stocked for him. “I can’t fuck you, baby.” He groans, walking over to the bed. “You’re drunk.”

You huff, pulling the covers over your head and you close your eyes. “Knew it was too good to be true.” You murmur, feeling yourself starting to drift off to sleep even though you want Dieter.

Dieter sighs, setting the water down on the nightstand next to you and shuts off the light. He strips back down and climbs under the covers next to you, cuddling against your huddled body. “It’s not too good to be true.” He murmurs, sliding his arm around you. “I’ll show you when you wake up sober.”

When you wake up, your head is throbbing. Worse than your hangover from the day before, and you wince as the sunlight peaks through the blinds. A warm body is pressed against you and you gasp, remembering that you called Dieter last night. “Fuck.” You curse yourself for giving in to your damn feelings.

Dieter tightens his hold on you and grunts when he feels you shift. “Gonna throw up, baby?” He mumbles, lifting his head and cracking one eye open to look over at you. “Trash can is right by the table.”

You weren’t but now that he’s mentioned it, you scramble to grab the trash can, just barely making it before you throw up. Two nights of drinking when you rarely drink has fucked you up and you gag as you throw up the bile and booze from your stomach.

“’s okay.” He pets your hair and holds it back, rubbing your back sympathetically just like you always do for him. Wanting to take care of you, “water and aspirin is on the table.” He reminds you.

You set the trash can down, wiping your face with the back of your hand as you reach for the water, downing half of the bottle before you swallow the aspirin. “Sorry. I know you hate people being gross around you.” You murmur, swallowing some more water.

“You were drunk.” He hums, rubbing your back. “It happens. Fuck knows I’ve been sick enough around you.” He chuckles quietly. “Do you want to go back to sleep?”

You shake your head, “I need to go to the bathroom and I need to brush my teeth.” You smack your lips, hating the feeling after throwing up and you know Dieter keeps new brushes in there for his guests. He nods and you make your way into the bathroom to pee and wash your face before you brush your teeth. You come back into his room to find him still in bed and you sit on the edge. “I, uh, I’m sorry about last night. Calling you while I was drunk…wasn’t very professional of me.”

Dieter shakes his head, sitting up. “I’m glad you called me. Come lay back down.” He urges, holding up the covers but you shake your head and he sighs. “Great.” He huffs. “You’re going to leave again. Because you don’t think that I want you.” He frowns, upset that you continuously think he’s lying. “Fine, go, fuck.” He spits, lurching out of the bed to stomp into the bathroom. “For someone who claims that I would get bored and find someone else, all you’re fucking doing is driving me away.”

“Because I’m trying to protect myself. You aren’t exactly Mr. Commitment and I know - I fucking know that you will want someone who won’t embarrass you at events…pap photos…the life you lead means someone like you shouldn’t be with someone like me. I’m trying to protect myself and you- you’re just - fuck. I wish I was still drunk and believe that you could feel the same way I do.”

“What a fucking bunch of horseshit.” Dieter pokes his head out from the bathroom and shoots you a glare. “I don’t give a goddamn what people think of me. And I would never be embarrassed that a sexy woman want me. Who gives a fuck if you’re not everyone’s ideal woman? You’re mine. But that doesn’t fucking matter because you’ve got it stuck in your head that I’m some kind of monster.” He growls, slapping his hand against the frame. “I am trying to - fuck it, it doesn’t matter. Just get out.” He demands. “Get out if you don’t believe me.” He repeats quietly, closing his eyes. “I’m tired of being rejected by the woman I love.” He disappears back into the bathroom and sighs.

“Wait…” You stand up on shaky legs, “you- you love me? Like in love or just love me as a person or a friend?” You ask for clarity, confused and hopeful as your heart flutters in your chest, the bathroom door still open so you walk towards it.

Dieter is naked, standing in front of the mirror and loading up his tooth brush to clean his teeth when you walk in and stand in the doorway, watching him with an almost hopeful look on your face. “Like in love with a gorgeous, sexy, kind, wonderful woman who I had the most amazing fucking night with, even if I didn’t know it was her, and I want to repeat it. Every night, for as long as she’s not tired of my shit. And, you know, take you out and shit. Show you off on the red carpet.”

You stand frozen, watching him brush his teeth, and you see yourself in the mirror and you feel his words settle over you. He loves you. He’s in love with you. You walk over to the counter, standing next to him. “When did you - when did you fall in love with me?” You wonder if it was that night or if he’s felt like this for a while.

Spitting out the tooth paste, he looks at you and sighs, turning back to the mirror. “Year and a half ago?” He admits. “After …. After the Anika thing went south and you stayed over and let me be a pathetic asshole and mope around.” He shrugs. “I thought it was rebound shit, but I wasn’t fucking you and the feelings never went away.”

You’re surprised. He’s never indicated that he felt that way. He had been nicer after that time, more considerate to you. Didn’t call you randomly at 3 am for you to grab a script or some stupid shit like that. “I, uh, I’ve been in love with you since before we went to England for you to fall in love with Anika. You, uh, you were doing a script read for that movie and you looked so into your work, so passionate. I saw you in a new light and uh, yeah. It wasn’t fun to watch you wanna be with Anika but I never imagined you’d want me. So, uh, yeah…I’m in love with you too.” You confess, keeping your gaze on his in the mirror.

"Why wouldn't I want you?" That is what keeps upsetting him. "You don't think you're beautiful? You're not sexy?" He asks you seriously. "Since when does your size, your weight, make you unattractive?" He asks seriously. "You've got a gorgeous face, a wonderful personality. Amazing tits, killer ass, thick- luscious thighs and a pussy that had me jerking off like four times today." He huffs. "So don't tell me that you can't believe that I'm not wanting you."

You sigh, “honestly? My mom - she put me on a diet when I was ten. I went to weight watchers by thirteen. She told me I’d never get a boyfriend if I didn’t lose weight. No one would want to marry a fat girl. I never got asked out in high school or college. Never got asked to prom. I was always the funny one…the friend…never the one that guys wanted. My friends? They’d ask them out but never me. I’ve never seen myself as - as a leading lady so to speak and that’s why I’m like this. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I keep pushing my insecurities on you but you’re so handsome and funny and I hear my mother’s voice telling me this is too good to be true. That I’m not good enough for this.”

"Fuck your mom." Dieter huffs, pushing away from the sink and tossing his tooth brush down on the counter before he reaches for your hand. "You're hungover, just threw up and you're doing this to me." He takes your hand and pulls it to his hard cock. "I'm a jerk. I'm shallow, I'm fucking horny and you think I will fuck anything with a pulse. That used to be true. But I don't want to fuck just anyone. I want to fuck you. I want that sexy fucking girl who sat on my face and rode my dick like she was a cowgirl and let me just - fuck baby." He twitches in your hand at the thought. "You don't judge me for being myself. I love that and I love you."

You stare at him, processing his words and your fingers flex around his cock. “God, Dee.” You murmur, stepping closer to him and you let go of his cock to wrap your arms around his neck. “I love you. I love you. Please don’t hurt me.” You plead softly, clinging to him.

Dieter turns his head, kissing you gently despite you getting sick earlier. “I don’t want to, baby.” He promises. “I want- I want to take care of you.” It’s surprising, since he’s the one who is normally cared for, but he wants to try something different with you. “You want to go back to bed?” He offers quietly, “to rest. I know you have a killer headache. You drank a lot apparently.”

You nod, ready to lay down again. “Come on. I want to cuddle, Bravo.” You smile as he nods and you slide under his covers again, sighing in relief as you get to close your eyes and you feel him behind you, wrapping his arms around you. “You maybe want to fuck the hangover away?” You ask, tracing the freckles on his forearm.

“Do you want to?” Dieter asks, smirking as he presses his face into the back of your neck. His cock is poking against your ass. “I can keep it slow. Not jar you too much.” He hums. “Fuck you just like this while I rub your clit? Or you want to lay under me?”

“Like this. Want you to fuck me like this. Lazy and slow. We aren’t in a rush.” You grind back against him, “I just want to feel connected to you. I want to feel you.” You murmur, reaching back to run your fingers through his hair.

Dieter hums and closes his eyes at the feeling of your fingers through his hair. Sliding his hand between you so he can grip his cock and shuffles forward. “I can do that. I can make it good for you, baby.”

You pull your panties aside for him and he notches himself at your entrance and pushes into you. “Shit.” You moan, eyes closing as he slowly stretches you out. “God, I love you.” You murmur, leaning against his body as his hand slides up to cup your breast.

“Fuck, I love you.” He hums. “I can’t believe that was you and I didn’t recognize you.” He admits breathlessly. “I should have. I think about you all the time.”

You chuckle breathily, “to be fair…I was wearing a wig and I- I was dressed in something I would never wear except it was one of the costumes my roommate has.” You tell him with a smirk as he rocks into you and you squeeze over his hand on your breast.

“Love your roommate.” He grunts. “Need her to give you more outfits to wear.” He jokes. “But you need to, fuck, tell her that I didn’t touch you last night.” He pants out. “Think she might cut my balls off.”

You snort as his hips press against your ass. “I’ll tell her. She - she isn’t your biggest fan because she’s been there during all the 3am calls and late night runs to get you what you want.” You confess, grabbing his hand and sliding it down into your panties until his fingers find your clit.

Dieter groans when you clench down around him, rubbing your clit just to hear you moan his name quietly. “Yeah but I’m good.” He protests. “I’m gonna make you feel so good baby.”

Whimpering, you relax against him and let him rut into you, his fingers on your clit and he rubs a little faster as you get closer to your orgasm, spurred on by the feelings shared between you. “Dee. I’m - I’m gonna cum.” You warn him, your head on his shoulder.

“That’s good, baby, you cum on my fingers and my cock.” He groans, kissing along your shoulder. “Want you to soak me like you did last night. Fuck, you were so sweet.”

You gasp, clamping down on his cock as he pushes into you while rubbing your clit. The orgasm flows through you slowly and your mouth opens in a silent cry as you soak him, your nails digging into his forearm.

“God that’s it. Soak me, baby. Fuck you’re so pretty when you cum.” He groans in your ear. Rubbing your clit to work you through it.

Panting, your walls flutter around him and you reach back to pull on his hair, "cum for me, Dee. Cum. Wanna feel it." You plead, feeling his thrusts get sloppy.

Dieter groans out your name, hisses at the flash of pain from having his hair pulled. “Oh fuck baby.” He groans, kissing along your neck, “gonna cum. Gonna fill you up.”

His hips push against your ass, his cock twitching and you moan when he starts to cum, filling you up with his hot seed and you turn your head to kiss his jaw. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” You ramble, loving how he feels, how he sounds, how he makes you feel.

His eyes slip closed and he whines your name again, holding you tight. Fucking blown away and amazed that you love him. That you want to be with him. He doesn’t want to fuck this up, doesn’t want to lose you. “I love you baby.” He groans. “Want to snort Coke off your tits forever.”

You giggle as he relaxes behind you, still inside of you, and you close your eyes. “You can. As long as you want me, I’m yours. We just gotta talk about me being your assistant and finding the balance between work and personal. We can talk about that later when you’re not inside of me.” You tease him.

“I don’t know if I can.” Dieter grunts. “I’m gonna be inside you all the time. You can be my ‘on the cock’ assistant.” He jokes, kissing your shoulder. “I want this to work. I know you have to be professional. I don’t want anyone talking bad about you.”

You hum, squeezing his hand as he kisses your shoulder again. “We will figure it out baby. We will. As long as we communicate and we love each other, we can face it all.” You promise and he smiles against your skin, “and you’ll get those costumes from your roommate?” He asks, “and the wigs.” You tease and he hisses in victory. “Fuck yes.” You giggle and snuggle into his expensive mattress, exhausted but excited. Crashing Dieter’s Halloween party turned out to be the best decision you’ve ever made.

#pedro pascal #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x plus sized!reader #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo imagine #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo the bubble #dieter bravo halloween fanfic

[souryogurt64]

what did they do now

 It is ridiculous that if a random FOB fan posts on their personal account that it rubs them the wrong way that Pete Wentz/FOB, who are infamous for being misogynistic, are suddenly pushing this whole “Deepthroat a middle aged man!! Get him to pay money for your pussy!!! Wear toddler clothes while doing it too!!!” thing— 

— Andy’s much younger influencer wife goes hunting through the dregs of stan Twitter to publicly put this random fan on blast for so-called misogyny. For months, including the DAY before this happened, I had been declining to answer, mincing words, or evading frequent anons asking me my opinion on this topic because I was nervous about this kind of thing happening due to FOB's tendency to micromanage their fanbase. 

I understand being a woman in music or married to a musician can make you a target for misogynistic harassment. But this post had nothing to do with Meredith, was not tagging Carr or commenting directly on her posts, and is a perfectly legitimate opinion to express. Like I’m not even going to start on why this wasn’t OK. 

But most importantly, it is a perfectly justified opinion to have that Fall Out boy pushing this music and imagery does not make women feel empowered and is icky. Here we go 

This type of music 

To start, on some level, Meredith is right. Women have every right to do whatever they want. Having casual sex or a daddy kink or wearing revealing clothing doesn’t make you any less of a feminist. Music expressing women’s sexuality and these aspects of women’s sexuality can absolutely be feminist speech. 

However, the music of women who have pioneered this style often make music about a variety of topics beyond sex. Their songs about sex often contain a high degree of nuance and a three-dimensional view of women’s sexuality, including the negative things women experience. I’m going to explore several cases of this and then contrast them with Carr’s music. 

#1: Ayesha Erotica

Ayesha Erotica is perhaps the best example of sexually graphic TikTok music as a form of female sexual empowerment. However, her songs are not just graphically about fucking dudes, they are more nuanced and subversive than this. 

For example, “Sixteen” is about becoming involved with a 25 year old who wants to “beat her with his cock” and tries to film her underwear when she’s walking around. While she’s initially thrilled by the attention, the chorus is “Wait, what? I’m just sixteen. And if you try anything funny, you’re going to go to jail” and contains lines like “You know that this is wrong, I don’t want your dirty talk.” 

Her tonal delivery on the chorus is important. She starts off sounding scared and confused, and then moves to more aggressive. Ultimately, this song is about a young girl learning to hold her own and rejecting a guy who is treating her in a degrading way because he has a fetish for her underage body. 

Another song, “Literal Legend,” focuses on her own self-confidence and credits iconic women across a variety of backgrounds, including Lindsay Lohan, Bjork, Courtney Love, Rihanna, Janet Jackson, Paris Hilton, Marilyn Monroe, and Madonna. Many of these women’s legacies include moments where feminist issues have been spotlighted in pop culture, such as such as Rihanna being beaten by Chris Brown, Janet Jackson’s breast on MTV, paparazzi taking nonconsensual upskirt photos of Lindsay Lohan’s vagina, et cetera. While sexual at parts, the song also makes a point to highlight her extreme confidence about her small breasts, a feature that men usually mock and find unattractive; this is a subversion of traditional expectations. 

#2 Melanie Martinez 

Melanie Martinez is frequently and harshly criticized for her over-reliance on the shock value of sexualizing children’s clothing and the daddy kink thing. 

Even so, she almost always explores more nuanced themes regarding women’s sexuality in her music. For example, “Cake” is about how she doesn't want to be valued for just sex and wants to be valued as a person.

“Teacher’s Pet” is about a student being groomed by a teacher in exchange for better grades. While the narrator is initially in love with the teacher, lines like “If I’m so special, why am I secret?”, “Stop calling me your bunny,” and “You don't own me,” demonstrate this is a song about a naive girl ultimately understanding this type of relationship is wrong and rejecting him. 

“Tag, You’re It,” is about rape. “Teddy Bear” is about a nice guy who becomes abusive. Many of her songs are also not about sex. “Dollhouse” is about the facade covering a family’s problems, and “Mrs. Potato Head” is about the pressure women feel to get plastic surgery, specifically by husbands and boyfriends. 

While her image often revolves around the shock value of sexualizing things associated with children, her music primarily deals with feminism and feminist topics. (Even if you can argue that it is poorly written or insensitively handled.)

#3 Scene Queen 

Scene Queen is probably the newest artist doing this that has blown up. While this music is highly sexualized and she relies on the “bimbo” aesthetic, there is a high degree of subverting traditional gendered expectations in her music. “Pink Panther” is about a female orgy. “Finger” is about lesbian sex. “18+” is about male musicians grooming underage fans. “Barbie and Ken” is about Barbie killing Ken. 

#4 Megan Thee Stallion

WAP—about being turned on and enjoying sex— is probably one of the biggest moments for women’s sexuality in pop culture and the controversy women singing explicitly about sex causes. Her other songs, though, explore other themes about confidence and empowerment. “Not My Fault” is about confidence and—like Scene Queen’s songs—sex between women. “Wanna Be” is about independence and dumping a guy who treated you wrong, as is her verse on “Beautiful Mistakes.”  “HISS” is about confidence and empowerment despite getting hate online—and does not revolve around a man. 

In contrast…. Carr

Carr’s music is not like this music, it is different. It is entirely about men, often reinforces typical sexual roles instead of subverting them, except one singular song that is likely putting down other women. Her music and her image also became way more sexually graphic and fetish-y after being signed by Pete Wentz. 

Pre DCD2 

2019

“Vann McCann” is about wanting guys to be more like a famous musician. “Strangers” is about drifting apart from your ex boyfriend. “Blue” is about liking a guy in spite of his struggles with depression. “Without You” is about things not working out with a guy. “Ready Yet” is about ruining a budding relationship with a guy. 

2020

“Shampoo” is about missing your ex boyfriend. “Unsaid” is about drifting apart from your ex boyfriend.  “Mixed Signals” is about not liking a guy back. “Circles” is about being unable to break off contact with your ex boyfriend. 

2021

“Poor Boy” is about not liking nice guys back, and instead wanting guys who will “treat me like a toy,” “make me beg for more,” and leave her after sex. “French Fries” is about not liking a nice guy back. “Airheads” is about liking a guy who doesn’t like you.  “Carrtoons” is about having a crush on a guy. “Kiss Me When I’m Dead” is about rejecting a guy. “Loser” is about wanting a guy to die because you don’t like him. “Sprinter Van” is about wanting to be a “groupie” and have a “one night stand” with an emo guy in a band. “Scary Movies” is about wanting a guy to die because you don’t like him. 

Post DCD2

She got signed to DCD2 around 2022. There is too much album art to catalog all of it, but prior to being signed to DCD2, her album art was often photos of her standing fully clothed, or cute drawings of things like bottles of shampoo. It was not sexually graphic. It takes a turn after being signed by Pete Wentz. 

2022

“Bed Head” is about giving a guy that doesn’t like you back a blowjob.  “Cold Charlie” is about liking a guy who doesn’t like you back. “How To Lose A Friend in 10 Days” is about ceasing communications with a guy who you were having sex with. “Sarasota” is about hating a guy. “Sudden Death” is about being obsessed with a guy your friends hate. “XL T” is about breaking up with a guy. “Almost Famous” is about being sexually involved with a male celebrity. “TV Star” is about being sexually involved with a male celebrity. 

Notably, the album art for many of these songs features her sitting on a toilet wearing red panties. There is also album art that features her in white panties. Also, “Spit” is about being in love with a guy and wanting to spit in his mouth. The album art is a woman spitting in a man’s mouth.

2023

“Sick Bro” is about having “double Ds” and “looking pretty on your knees.” The album art is her in a red bra with emphasis on her cleavage. “Dirty Shoes” is about wanting to have sex with a guy. “Spiral City” is about being sad a guy doesn’t like you back, and includes lines about being “so horny” you want to “break into his house and get naked.” 

“Doctor Doctor” is about wanting to have sex with a guy who is doctor and includes “take my temperature,” which is an anal fetish thing, and implies this relationship is inappropriate. “Step on Your Face” is about stepping on a guy’s face. This is also fetish. “Garbage” is about being mean to a guy you are having sex with. “I Like Dogs” is about things not working out with a hookup. 

“Voldemort” is about being the other woman with a guy cheating on his girlfriend. “Usual Medication” is about having sex with a guy after drinking too much. 

Notably, the album art from this year is her in a toddler tutu and underwear standing over a guy who is looking at and grabbing her butt. This guy is a mechanic working on a car; beyond the pun, it is a reinforcement of traditional gender expectations and a typical porn setup. 

“Industry Kids” is the ONLY song she has that is not specifically about romantic or sexual relationships with men. It is about hating musicians with industry connections that are almost 30 and dress like teenagers. I cannot help but notice that Daisy Grenade, the other girl band on Pete’s label, are in the right age range, and wear a style of clothing typically attributed to teenagers. They have stated in an interview that they were signed because they have connections, and that they lightly insinuated they write songs with Jakob Armstrong, Billie Joe Armstrong’s son, who was also on Pete’s label at one point. 

To compound on this, a line in “Voldemort” also implies that the woman of the guy she is fucking is “faceless,” implying the song title is comparing the woman to Voldemort and putting her down. Never mind everything with JKR.

2024

“Hot Dads” is about having sex with someone’s dad.  It includes the line “pay for my cat” implying this is a sugar daddy relationship, especially as this guy is rich. It is arguably her most graphic and sexual song to date. 

Notably, this is her first song that was produced by Jake Sinclair. Jake Sinclair is closely involved with both FOB and Panic! at the Disco. Tobias Wincorn, who also produced the track, has produced for Panic recently as well. She has worked with many producers over the years (all male), but none of them had such a direct connection with FOB until now. 

The album art features her in a tutu crawling over the lap of a much older man wearing a suit, which is a position and clothing combination commonly associated with spanking fetish material, and it goes without saying that is also implied with the “daddy” thing. 

Conclusion 

In conclusion, her music has obviously gotten progressively more sexually graphic and explicit since becoming involved with Pete Wentz and Fall Out Boy. Her earlier lyrics, while still entirely focused around men, seemed more like music I or my friends would listen to, and primarily was concerned with emotion and heartbreak. The album art often focused on her face and showed her wearing normal clothes and doing normal things people do like eat or be outside. 

Since getting signed by Pete Wentz, and especially since she has begun to work with producers that work closely with FOB, her music and image have become increasingly sexually explicit. It often involves wanting to be degraded, getting money for sex, and fetish material such as daddy kink or rectal thermometers, and concerns themes surrounding relationships that are inappropriate due to power imbalances and age differences. 

Unlike musicians that focus on women’s sexual empowerment and sexual taboos like Ayesha Erotica, Melanie Martinez, Megan Thee Stallion, or Scene Queen, there is no subversion of gendered expectations. These songs also do not explore a nuanced view of women’s sexuality that sometimes involve experiences like grooming, rape, or abuse. 

They also do not focus on any other themes beyond men like self empowerment, self confidence, queer sex, or crediting women who inspire you. They are just about having sex with men, wanting men to like you, and rejecting men. The literal only song that is not about a man is potentially supposed to be some kind of manufactured feud with other women. The only song that explicitly mentions another woman is likely putting her down.

This isn’t music that I listen to. This isn’t music that most FOB fans listen to. This isn’t music that most human beings listen to. This is like Pete Wentz has a vague idea that women singing explicit lyrics like Ayesha Erotica, Melanie Martinez, and Scene Queen are popular on TikTok right now and FOB they think they can sell this genre without understanding it or the women who listen to it—or even valuing women at all—and signed a woman who previously made normal sad girl music with the intention of putting out this image. 

Because FOB are pushing this music so hard and posted a photo of her posing with a member of the band looking disgusted at her wearing clothing items advocating that she is a “Deepthroat Queen,” everybody is constantly asking what we think of this or if we like this or if we think this is cool and for us to make posts about this.  

She—like any woman—is allowed to do whatever she wants and express herself however she wants. 

However, Pete Wentz is not a woman, he is a middle aged man, as are his bandmates. Fall Out Boy are a band that are arguably infamous for being misogynistic. They have a song title that is a joke about how unpleasant it is to have sex with unattractive women. They have a song about wanting your ex to die in a car crash because she had sex with another man. They once had a song title calling a woman a “Myspace Whore” that was changed before being finalized. Pete Wentz has said that “XO” is about groupies, and that groupies are the “wrong kind of girl.” They have a demo about wanting to kill a girl. WAMS is likely an acronym meant to put down women. This is not a band that has EVER advocated for female sexual empowerment or feminism, and in fact has made it clear they hate sluts. 

Most relevant to ME and MY BLOG, I wrote an essay about Fall Out Boy that included a quote from Pete Wentz joking about the term “Grenade Jumper” being slang for how unpleasant is to have sex with fat or unattractive women. These scans, which had been online for 10+ years, were taken down after the publication of this essay and the band began selling an EDITED copy of this interview that removed this quote and changed other quotes. 

Now that a band with such a misogynistic history is heavily pushing music like this, people ARE going to form opinions about it and they ARE allowed to feel negatively about it. If you want to be famous, not everybody is going to love your music. 

It is disappointing and upsetting to many female FOB fans my age or younger that during their decade+ as a FOB fan, Pete Wentz never ever worked with women. When he finally does start mentoring women, it’s women who make music about wanting middle aged dads fuck you and stick things up your ass. While you wear a toddler tutu. Instead of music like The Cab or Panic at the Disco or Games We Play or Ultra Q or Gym Class Heroes. It ruins the illusion that many FOB fans have developed that the band’s view of women and the way they value women has matured for the better over the years. 

Nobody should be harassing Carr online or tagging her in mean posts or commenting mean things on her posts. She is allowed to do whatever she wants. But literally nobody is doing this. 43 year old Andy Hurley’s 30 year old influencer wife got mad that a single random FOB fan felt uncomfortable with the daddy kink aspect, and publicly put that fan on blast for posting about it and insinuated this fan was being misogynistic. TBH, I feel like she knew people were saying this kind of thing on Tumblr already and went looking for someone to publicly embarrass to discourage this conversation from happening at all. 

Just like the interview scans were taken down to discredit my criticism of Pete's misogyny and make me look like a liar. This is fucking ridiculous. Like be serious. 

[kingofbodyrolls]

Friendcation (m) | myg | seven [fin]

← previous | s.masterlist | m.masterlist |

Summary: Melancholy shrouds you and Yoongi in your last days of vacation – time to get back home to the daily grind. But when you can visit Yoongi in his garage, is it really so bad?

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female)

Other characters: Jimin, Jungkook, Taehyung, Namjoon, Hoseok and Seokjin.

Genre/AU: best friends to friends with benefits to lovers, non idol!au, camping!au, roadtrip!au, mechanic!Yoongi, humor, slight angst, smut and fluff

Rating: mature/explicit/R18  (This is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.)

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Status: complete!

Word Count: 11.3K

Warnings (general): angst and uncertainty, pregnancy test and pregnancy scare. Warnings (explicit): explicit rough sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, ass slapping, impreg kink (new for me, so it might be light and soft), nipple play, Yoongi’s garage and a certain car 👀 (yes this is a warning and you’ll understand it when you read it 🥵), hair pulling, slight possessiveness 👀, lots of ass grabbing, some brief cockwarming too.

Author’s note(1): This is the end of the road, guys 😭 It has truly been a rollercoaster for me, and I’m so pleased with these last chapters and I feel like this is a good way to end things for this couple and their teasing friends. 

Also, there’s a line of dialogue in this chapter (one of Yoongi’s 🥵) that spawned another fic that I actually wrote to get out of my writers block before I could finish friendcation – It’s ‘Say that Again (I Dare You)’, if you’re interested you can go ahead and give it a read 🙂 (It has nothing to do with friendcation and everything to do with me being an insatiable hoe 😇).

Thank you so much – and thanks to all that likes, comments, reblogs, yeah, anything. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, it makes me so happy and a damn smiling fool 💜

Author’s note #2 (very important): when I wrote this chapter, I’d simultaneously been reading @kithtaehyung’s 3tan series, and without even realizing it, I had written a scene similar to hers. They do it on a desk—, and I know, yes, in many fics the characters do it on a desk, but to me, this was enough for me to say something was wrong with my work. It wasn’t even that similar in the wording or the specific scene, but to be on the safe side, I have rewritten the scene in question. ✨

Taglist: @idkjustlovingbts, @constancelayon, @wobblewobble822, @ktownshizzle, @moonchild1, @ultimatefangirl0, @baechugff, @jimintaemin, @parapiop7, @fckkntired, @iluvfndms, @citypop-princess, @tarahardcore, @bergandysam, @massivelyfullenthusiast, @tatyhend, @gimeow *strikethrough means tumblr isn’t letting me tag you :( **you can still be added to the taglist, just drop a comment here, on any chapter or the masterlist and I’ll add you 🌸

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there.

“The second statement is a lie,” you laugh, your conviction cutting through the night air. The rest of your group joins in with a collective hum of agreement. 

“You just don’t strike me as the threesome type,” you assert, adding a touch of finality to your words. 

Namjoon casts a curious gaze your way, his eyebrows lifting ever so slightly. 

“Are you sure?” he asks, a hint of skepticism coloring his words. 

You nod affirmatively, your confidence unwavering. It’s hard to fathom Namjoon engaging in such endeavors; his other statements seem to carry a more authentic resonance. 

Your eyes widen in disbelief, almost popping out of their sockets, as Namjoon casually shrugs his shoulders, his laughter resonating through the air. “Well, I have,” he admits, reclining in his seat with an air of nonchalance. 

Your gasp is almost audible, a testament to the revelation that shatters your preconceived notions. “Wow,” you utter in awe, realizing that even those you thought you knew well can still surprise you with hidden facets.

“I just didn’t think you were into that, maybe Hoseok, but you, Joonie?” you say in a breathy voice, the disbelief evident. 

The mention of Hoseok prompts an indignant “Hey!” from him, and you can’t help but chuckle. 

Namjoon continues to laugh, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he playfully challenges Hoseok, “It’s your turn, Hobi.”

All eyes, except Yoongi's, focused on the road, shift to Hoseok, waiting for the next set of revelations as he contemplates his three statements. The rhythmic hum of the engine underscores the silence, creating a suspenseful atmosphere within the confines of Holly. 

As you all hum with curiosity, anticipating Hoseok’s next revelation, he unveils another layer of himself. “I once dated a man,” he confesses, a momentary hush falling over the group, the revelation hanging in the air like a delicate thread. 

The subsequent statement, “I’m scared of snakes,” elicits laughter, the image of Hoseok’s comical encounters with the slithering creatures at the zoo playing in everyone’s minds. 

Then, in a surprising twist, Hoseok drops the bombshell, “I was contacted to choreograph a music video.” 

Holly is filled with gasps and widened eyes as the weight of this unexpected admission settles among the group. 

The van is a buzz of whispers and exchanged glances as you and your friends dive into a lively debate, dissecting each of Hoseok’s revelations with an air of camaraderie. 

Yoongi’s voice, a steady anchor amid the animated chatter, breaks through as he shares a practical update.

“We’re almost there,” he interjects, his gaze fixed on the winding road.

You catch a glimpse of his focused expression, the contours of his profile bathed in the soft glow of passing streetlights in the dim morning.

“Just stopping by a store first.” 

Yoongi continues, his words weaving seamlessly into the ongoing banter. 

Seokjin’s laughter erupts like a spontaneous melody, harmonizing with the hum of the van’s engine.

Namjoon chimes in, “But the fear of snakes? That’s so Hobi. Remember that one time at the zoo?” The memory elicits another round of laughter, lightening the atmosphere.

You interject with a thoughtful musing, “The music video thing could also be true.”

Namjoon’s analytical mind chimes in, “But he could also have dated a man, I’m sure he’s mentioned that sometime.” His words ripple through Holly, introducing an element of doubt that swirls around Hoseok’s revelations.

Seokjin’s confident assertion pierces through the deliberations, echoing with finality. “We think the statement with the music video is a lie,” he declares. The collective nodding of heads and the subtle hum of agreement create a shared consensus among you. 

The decision is made, and the spotlight now shifts to Hoseok, awaiting his response.

“That one was actually true,” Hoseok’s revelation hangs in the air, a surprising twist that elicits a collective gasp and a wave of laughter. 

Your voice, laced with a cocktail of disbelief and genuine curiosity, slices through the air like a finely tuned instrument. 

“Hold up, you haven’t actually dated a man?” you query, your eyes widening in a mix of incredulity and intrigue.

“Not yet, but I’m open to the possibility,” he grins, radiating a warmth that rivals the sun itself.

“Wait... Does that mean you’re going to choreograph a music video?” Namjoon slaps him on the shoulder, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, causing him to wince.

Hoseok nods, his expression bright and proud. “They reached out to me before the vacation, and a few days ago, they confirmed that I got the job.”

“Wow!” you exclaim, your face bright and brimming with genuine happiness for your friend.

“That’s absolutely amazing.” Seokjin adds gleefully, his excitement mirroring the collective joy in the van.

“Congrats.” Yoongi adds from the driver’s seat, his voice filled with genuine warmth and a hint of pride for Hoseok’s achievement.

“Thank you.” Hoseok says proudly, launching into enthusiastic explanations about his new job, his eyes lighting up with passion for the upcoming project.

“We’re here.” Yoongi announces, effortlessly maneuvering Holly into a parking spot before cutting off the engine, the sudden silence emphasizing the arrival at your destination.

You all spill out of the van, a lively group on a shared mission, and step into the store, ready to stock up on essentials and treats for the upcoming days of your adventure.

As you step into the store, the unspoken choreography of your group takes over, each member moving with purpose to efficiently tackle the shopping list. 

You and Yoongi, armed with a basket and a secret mission for a pregnancy test, navigate the aisles in search of canned goods, weaving through the vibrant array of products. Meanwhile, the rest of the team secures a cart, ready to explore the realms of meat and veggies. 

In no time, you and Yoongi expertly pluck a selection of canned goods from the shelves, tossing them into your basket with practiced ease. As you navigate the aisles, hand in hand, your journey takes a deliberate detour to the toiletries and sanity section. There, amidst the array of products, you both zero in on the elusive pregnancy test with the finesse of seasoned shoppers.

As you reach for a package, an unexpected weight settles in your hand, the incongruity of such a small item bearing a significant burden dawning on you. 

In this moment, the weight transcends the physical, carrying with it the gravity of what it represents—questions, possibilities, and the potential to alter the course of your relationship with Yoongi.

Locking eyes with Yoongi, you muster the courage to break the news subtly. “Is it okay if I head up to pay for it now? I’d rather keep it between us for now,” you confess, your voice carrying a blend of vulnerability and anticipation. 

His response is a reassuring squeeze of your hand, a silent affirmation that he understands. “Of course. Go pay for it, and I’ll round up the others. We’ll join you outside,” he assures, the unspoken promise of solidarity evident in his gaze.

With a tender yet uncertain smile, you part ways from Yoongi, fully aware that within the confines of this unassuming package rests the key to your shared destiny.

You hasten to the cashier, swiftly complete the transaction for the test, and then make your way to Holly, anticipation knotting your stomach as you await the arrival of your friends.

In no time, your friends conclude their shopping, and you assist in loading the van with groceries. Safely tucked away in one of your bags is the pregnancy test, a secret that remains concealed from prying eyes.

Returning to Holly, Yoongi takes the wheel, steering you toward a hidden forest oasis where he skillfully parks, creating a cocoon of tranquility amid the lush surroundings.

As the sun bathes the surroundings in a golden glow, setting up camp in the middle of the day proves delightful, offering ample light to illuminate your tasks. With a symphony of coordination, each of you contributes to unloading Holly and assembling the tent, a well-practiced ritual that transforms the serene landscape into a cozy haven.

While the guys gather around a crackling campfire, savoring light snacks and sipping on cold beers, you find it challenging to fully unwind. The weight of the pregnancy test preoccupies your mind, its presence an insistent reminder. An undercurrent of nervous anticipation builds within you, urging you to take the test and unravel the mystery that has woven itself into the fabric of your thoughts.

You rise from your seat with purpose, drawing a few curious glances, notably from Yoongi, yet determinedly stride towards the van. 

Each step feels charged with the weight of the moment, the bag clutched in the comfort of the van holding not just your belongings but the potential key to your future.

Startled, you almost jump at the warm and familiar voice that breaks through your reverie. Lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed him approaching. 

“Can I come with you?” he asks, his presence both surprising and comforting.

His hands find your waist, their warmth and rough texture grounding you in the present. With a reassuring touch, he gently nudges you, calming the swirling thoughts that had momentarily carried you away.

You arch an eyebrow at him, your fingers tightly clenched around the pregnancy test. 

“You wanna watch me pee?”

He chuckles at your furrowed expression, gently turning you around to face him. With a tender touch, he brushes stray strands of hair away from your face, locking eyes with you as he nods, a silent reassurance passing between you.

“That’s gross, Yoongi. You don’t have to watch me pee.” You mumble, keeping your voice low to avoid the others catching on.

“If you’re pregnant, watching you pee on a stick will be the least grossest thing I’ll see.” Yoongi teases, a playful glint in his eyes.

Admitting defeat, you concede, and let him accompany you into the serene depths of the forest, away from the prying eyes of your friends and the campsite.

His hand, warm and reassuring, intertwines with yours, a conduit for the palpable love that flows between you. Seeking solace beside a sturdy tree, you carefully retrieve the test, holding it up for closer scrutiny.

“I’m scared.” 

You admit, the words almost a whisper in the quiet of the forest. Yoongi’s gaze softens with understanding, his hand tenderly caressing your cheek. “I understand,” he reassures, gently lifting your face to meet his gaze, “Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”

“Okay?” he murmurs, his gentle touch stroking your cheek before he leans in, placing a chaste kiss on your trembling lips. In that simple moment, he somehow eases the fear swirling within you. You nod, a wave of gratitude washing over you for his unwavering presence.

You carefully open the package, extracting the instructions and scrutinizing them. This marks your first experience with a pregnancy test, and you’re determined to ensure every step is executed correctly.

“I should’ve brought a cup or something to collect the pee,” you groan at the inconvenient realization. “Oh well,” you chuckle, pulling down your pants to relieve yourself against the tree. Yoongi efficiently unpacks the test and hands it to you, a subtle smile playing on his lips.

In a million scenarios, you never imagined finding yourself in a forest, peeing on a stick while Yoongi watches. It’s almost laughable, the twists life takes.

Your voice wavers with uncertainty as you pull your pants back up, glancing at the test. 

“Can you set a timer? Three minutes.” You request, the seconds ticking away with the weight of anticipation.

Yoongi swiftly retrieves his phone, the soft glow illuminating his focused expression as he expertly sets a timer, the seconds ticking in sync with the nervous beats of your heart.

Restlessly, you tread back and forth, clutching the test in your hand, each step echoing the restless beats of your heart, anxiously awaiting the passage of time.

Yoongi’s reassuring touch envelopes your waist, leading you to another tree, one untouched by your earlier predicament. “Relax,” he murmurs, settling you down against the sturdy trunk, both of you finding solace in its shelter.

A flicker of curiosity brightens your eyes as you break the silence. 

“Aren’t you nervous?” You inquire, secretly craving insight into his seemingly calm demeanor, a shared vulnerability between you two.

“Not really.” He shrugs, a nonchalant exterior belying the subtle lean against your shoulder, a silent reassurance echoing louder than words ever could.

Then silence envelops you, a palpable tension that’s not uncomfortable, but rather pregnant with anticipation, each passing second stretching the boundaries of waiting.

As the timer beeps, you gasp, releasing a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, the sound echoing the suspense that has built up within you.

With trembling hands, you bring the test closer to your face, inspecting the results. Your heart gallops like a herd of wild stallions, and your breath quickens in anticipation. 

Are you ready for this revelation? 

Ready or not, here it is—just one line. 

Not pregnant.

Your heart plummets at the stark results, and you release a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. 

The sting of tears gathers at the corners of your eyes, and a single teardrop slips free.

Yoongi swiftly brushes away your tears, his touch a comforting blend of warmth and reassurance, his fingers tenderly tracing the curve of your cheek.

“Not the results you were hoping for?” 

Yoongi’s voice carries a mixture of empathy and concern, his eyes locked onto yours, searching for the emotions hidden within.

Tears cascade down your cheeks in a torrent, your sobs escaping in uncontrollable waves. With a mix of frustration and despair, you discard the test, shielding your face in trembling hands. “I don’t know,” you confess through the emotional turmoil, your vulnerability laid bare.

He cradles your hands, gently freeing your tear-stained face from its hiding place. Drawing you into a cocoon of warmth, he envelops your trembling form in a tender embrace. His fingertips dance soothingly along your back, a silent promise of unwavering support as you release the weight of your emotions on his shoulder.

“It was negative,” you choke on a stifled cry, “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“You were hoping for a positive.” He murmurs warmly against your ear, sending delightful shivers down your spine. Damn it, he’s right. The test has consumed your thoughts for days, and a part of you had secretly wished for a positive result. Fuck.

“I didn’t realize I wanted that,” you sob, clinging to his embrace as if your very existence depended on it.

“It’s okay, babe. To be honest, I’m a bit disappointed too,” he confesses in a tender voice as you slowly pull away from him, locking eyes.

In his eyes, you search for any sign that he’s just saying that to make you happy, but the determination, love, and care in those beautiful brown eyes tell a different story. He wanted the test to be positive too. He wants to have a kid with you. The thought finally hits you, and you begin to cry again.

You ask in disbelief, your body still shaking with the aftermath of tears, “You want to have a baby with me?”

“Yeah,” he looks at you tenderly again, kissing your tear-stained cheek. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“I mean, we haven’t been together long,” you begin as your crying turns into small sobs, your heart slowing down gradually.

“Babe, we’ve known each other for over ten years. Spent so fucking much time loving each other, without telling the other. It’s not about the time, it’s you.”

At this, tears well up again, a cascade of emotions unleashed by his beautiful words. 

Your heart leaps and somersaults because, damn it, he’s right. Maybe you haven’t been ‘officially’ together for that long, but the bond you share spans years. It feels natural, like the coming together of two souls that have known each other intimately for decades.

As he speaks, his words paint a vision of a future you never dared to imagine. 

“I want kids in the future, and I want them with you,” he declares, his sincerity echoing through the forest. You sob at the beauty of his words, your heart swelling with emotion. 

“You’ll be an awesome and fearless mom. You’re strong, incredible, and your heart is so big and full of love,” he continues, each compliment a brushstroke in the portrait of your relationship. 

“With you, I want everything. Why waste any more time?” he asks, his soft chuckle carrying the weight of a promise for a future filled with love and possibility.

In the wake of his heartfelt confession, you’re overwhelmed by the cascade of loving and wonderful words that have poured from his lips. You yearn for everything he’s just described, and the intensity of your desire propels you into a kiss that speaks volumes. 

It’s not just a simple meeting of lips; it’s a fervent exploration, a hunger for all of him. 

The kiss is messy, tears and saliva mingling to create a salty sweetness on your tongues. Yet, in this raw and unfiltered moment, you find solace because, for the first time, you’re not just kissing; you’re tasting the promise of a shared future.

“Damn. I want that too.”

Your moan escapes into his mouth, a symphony of pleasure, as your hands entwine in his long hair, pulling with an urgency that draws a deep groan from him, echoing in the intimate space of your kiss.

As you softly pull away, the realization hits that the tears have ceased, replaced by a new and electric tension. A surge of desire courses through you, prompting you to grind your body against his, teasing and stoking the flames of arousal that now dance between you.

“What does this mean?” 

You ask, the taste of salt still lingering on your lips as you lick them. The remnants of your earlier mood dissipate, making room for a lighter and happier atmosphere.

“That I’ll fuck you raw,” he smirks at you, his eyes turning dark with desire.

“Make you nice and round.” he strokes your stomach before cupping your clothed core.

You release a sultry moan, “Fuck, yes.”

You stroll alongside Yoongi, hand in hand, your cheeks likely marked with the remnants of tears, yet you’re beaming, the joy evident. With Yoongi by your side, nothing else holds significance.

As you return to your friends, you catch the intrigued glances they shoot your way, a silent curiosity lingering in the air, though no words are exchanged.

You settle into the chair with Yoongi, the contours of his lap perfectly accommodating your form as you nuzzle your head against his chest, finding solace in the rhythmic beat of his heart.

You feel the weight of curious eyes on you, a silent conversation unfolding in their gazes, laden with unspoken words yearning to break free.

“We’re thinking about heading home tomorrow.” Hoseok starts, his voice carrying a subtle air of decision with each sip of his beer.

“So you can savor a few days of solitude before your vacation bids farewell.” Namjoon chimes in, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

You exchange glances with him and offer a gentle, appreciative smile. Your heart swells with gratitude for the sweetness and thoughtfulness your friends never fail to show.

Seokjin chimes in with a smile, “I miss my girlfriend too.”

“We’ll drive you to the station tomorrow.” Yoongi says, his hands intertwining with yours, a gesture that speaks volumes of comfort and support.

As the night unfolds, a cascade of laughter and clinking beer bottles paints the scene. Hoseok, with his infectious energy, pulls you into a dance, and the rhythm of the music becomes the soundtrack to a night filled with camaraderie and unforgettable moments. Laughter echoes around the campfire, weaving together a tapestry of joy that lingers in the memories of friendship.

“Friday at the bar, don’t be late!” 

Hoseok’s enthusiasm resonates in his voice as he envelops you in a warm, anticipatory hug. Then, he turns his exuberance towards Yoongi, squeezing him tightly, a bear hug that elicits a gruff grunt from your usually composed boyfriend.

“Absolutely, can’t wait for the gang to reunite!” Your words ring with genuine joy as you share heartfelt hugs with Namjoon and Seokjin. Even Yoongi, typically reserved, offers reluctant but sincere goodbyes in the form of tight hugs.

As their figures gradually blend into the bustling station crowd, you continue waving, the distance adding a bittersweet tinge to your farewell. The echoes of laughter and shared moments linger, fading with each step they take, leaving you with a mix of nostalgia and anticipation for the next reunion.

“What should we do now? So much alone time.” 

Yoongi’s voice, soft and filled with the promise of undisturbed moments, lingers in the air as you both face the van. The question carries the weight of endless possibilities, a canvas awaiting the strokes of your shared desires in the quietude of alone time.

As you both enter Holly, the air crackles with a newfound anticipation. Leaning into Yoongi’s side, you murmur your plan, your words a bold invitation that sets the atmosphere ablaze. 

“You drive us back to our campsite,” you start, the door closing behind you, “and then I’ll fuck you senseless.”

Yoongi chuckles, the sound a tempting melody in response to your boldness and the unmistakable glint of desire in your eyes. “Bossy,” he teases, the word laced with a promise of playful surrender.

As he ignites the engine, the subtle purr of the vehicle syncs with the quiet hum of anticipation. Driving back to your campsite, the warmth of your touch on his thigh acts as a silent yet palpable connection, a prelude to the intimacy awaiting both of you.

With Holly’s engine silenced, you pounce on him, the urgency in the air charging the atmosphere. Your hands glide up his thigh, boldly exploring the terrain beneath the fabric. A daring grip on his clothed dick elicits a soft, impassioned moan, your name escaping his lips like a whispered prayer.

“Impatient much?” 

He chuckles, the sound a harmonious melody to the rhythm of your teasing palm. Your deliberate touch prompts him to throw his head back against the headrest, surrendering to the escalating desire coursing through every fiber of his being.

“Yeah, I’m already so wet. I just want you inside me, Yoon.” 

Your words, laced with a sense of urgency and desire, spill out as you hastily discard both of your pants and underwear, the anticipation building in the air like an electric charge.

“Shit,” he mutters, closing his eyes, savoring a soft breath as you unzip his pants. With his assistance, you deftly pull down both his boxers and pants, leaving them pooled at his knees.

Without hesitation, you straddle him. The confines of the front seat are a bit tight, creating an intimate space that’s not entirely uncomfortable, but charged with anticipation and lust.

His arousal is evident, and you tease him by grinding your core against his throbbing length. The dual response, a twitch and a moan, sends shivers down your spine. The symphony of his pleasure fuels your desire, and you savor every intoxicating sound escaping his lips.

With a confident grip, you guide his dick to your eager entrance, then descend upon him in one seamless motion. The delicious stretch and the raw sensation, liberated from the confines of a condom, draw a heartfelt exclamation. 

“Fuck, you’re so big,” you gasp, relishing the intimate connection that electrifies the air.

His husky voice, laced with desire, breathes out admiration, “Damn, you’re so tight, taking me so well.’” His hands confidently find your hips, anchoring themselves in a rhythm that mirrors the growing intensity between you.

Your movements become a rhythm of urgency, bouncing in his lap with a fervor that sets a relentless pace from the very beginning. The sensation of fullness overwhelms you, and the impending climax rushes towards you like a tidal wave. 

Damn it, the pleasure is so exquisite, so consuming, that you can’t help but surrender to its intoxicating embrace.

Your breath comes in furious pants, a symphony of desire echoing in the air. Fingers entwined in his hair, you tug hard, prompting a hiss of pain from him as you practically impale yourself on his cock. 

“Fuck!” The expletive escapes your lips in a primal scream, a raw expression of the overwhelming pleasure coursing through every fiber of your being.

Yoongi’s hold on your hips tightens, his movements synchronized with yours, creating a rhythm that feels like a shared heartbeat between you. With a firm grip, he guides your ascent and descent, an intimate dance of passion and connection.

“Babe,” he pants, his gaze locking onto yours with hooded eyes. “I won’t last much longer.”

You pant and moan his name, “Same here.”

You roll your hips over his, desperately seeking release, while one of your hands trails down to your clit, vigorously rubbing it.

With a few intense strokes on your clit, a surge of pleasure radiates from your core, and you feel a release building up. You let out a breathless moan, calling his name as your vision momentarily blurs. As your body succumbs to the waves of ecstasy, Yoongi takes control, guiding you up and down by your hips, plunging into you with fervor, seamlessly melding with the throes of your orgasm.

Your fingers thread through his hair, gripping and releasing in a rhythm matching the intensity of your movements. With each passionate kiss to his neck, you leave behind a trail of bites that elicit a symphony of pleasurable sounds from him, creating a delicious melody of desire beneath you.

Your name escapes his lips like a fervent prayer, a raw confession of imminent release as he gasps, “Fuck, I’m gonna come, babe,” the words laced with urgency and desire.

In the throes of pleasure, you hiss, “Fill me up, Yoon,” your moan a seductive melody as you sink down on him again, deliberately clenching your walls around him.

“Shit!” he grunts, his release flooding into your welcoming warm pussy.

“You’re absolutely amazing, babe,” he says, his voice dripping with so much love that it envelops you like a warm embrace, making you feel like you could swim in its depths.

“As are you, Yoongi.” You murmur into his ear, wrapping him in a big and warm hug, your breath steadying against the curve of his ear.

You make a conscious effort to savor every fleeting moment of these last few days of your trip, acutely aware that the return to your mundane daily lives is inevitable.

Your period has finally made its appearance, adding a bit of a damper to your spirits and contributing to your already sour mood, but you try not to dwell on it.

You embark on what feels like a magical ‘date,’ where the warmth of a campfire, the sizzling sounds of grilling, and the joy of each other’s company create a perfect, intimate evening in the cocoon of your campsite.

In the familiar rhythm of your camping routine, Yoongi takes the lead at the grill, but tonight, the dance of preparing the meat and chopping vegetables becomes a shared symphony. Surrounded by the serene seclusion of the forest, the campfire’s glow paints a warm ambiance on your faces, casting playful shadows that dance and flicker. 

As you skillfully turn the vegetables over the crackling flames, a wistful sigh escapes your lips. “I’m going to miss this when we get back home.”

“We can always go camping on the weekends,” his voice, tinged with a hint of nostalgia, carries the weight of the inevitable return to reality. Yet, his smile, soft and bittersweet, speaks volumes of the preciousness he finds in the present, a moment cocooned in the dancing flames and the quiet murmur of the forest.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” your smile mirrors the warmth of the flickering flames, an unspoken promise to seize the simple joys of weekends and the solace found under the stars. 

“What are we gonna do when we get back home?” 

As the flames dance, casting a glow on your contemplative expression, you can’t help but sigh, the question lingering in the air like the smoke from the crackling fire. Poking at a charred vegetable in playful defeat, you turn to Yoongi, a mix of curiosity and anticipation in your eyes, as if the answer lies in the shadows painted by the dancing flames.

His gaze locks with yours, a quizzical expression playing on his features. 

“What do you mean?” He asks, and you can sense the curiosity dancing in his eyes, eager to unravel the depths of your thoughts.

As you voice the concerns lingering in your mind, your eyes search his face for a glimpse of understanding. 

“How are we going to make it work, Yoongi? We’re both workaholics.” You sigh, a smile playing on your lips, a mix of worry and anticipation painting your expression as you contemplate the intricate puzzle of your relationship.

His eyes flicker with a thoughtful gleam as he ponders your question, a soft ‘ah’ escaping his lips, carrying with it the weight of consideration and the promise of an honest response.

With a sigh, you add, “And I don’t want our relationship to fail,” as you skillfully pull the vegetables off the fire, their sizzling sounds a backdrop to the sincerity in your voice. The tray in your hands becomes a vessel for both grilled sustenance and the weight of your heartfelt words.

Yoongi expertly turns the sizzling meat, his eyes focused on the grill as he addresses your concerns. 

“First off, I don’t think it’ll fail,” he reassures, the aroma of barbecue blending with the warmth in his words. “We don’t have to see each other every day, although I’d like that very much. You are always welcome in my home or at the garage anytime. And we can do stuff on the weekends,” he adds with a hopeful voice, his smile matching the flickering flames as he places the perfectly grilled meat in a clean tray.

Your eyes light up with enthusiasm. “That sounds nice,” you respond eagerly, reaching for two plates as the prospect of a shared future with Yoongi takes on a tangible, comforting shape.

“I just hope we can make it work.” You express with a hopeful lilt in your voice, the sincerity of your desire for a future with Yoongi shining through.

“I know we can.” He reassures you, his voice carrying a quiet confidence that matches the unwavering belief in your love.

Together, you savor each bite, the conversation flowing effortlessly between dreams of future destinations, the nuances of work, and the tapestry of life itself.

As dawn unfurls its radiant hues, you embark on an early morning hike through the forest, the sun casting golden ribbons through the foliage. The breathtaking spectacle of the sunrise filtering through the trees paints a memory you know will linger, a vivid scene etched in your mind, a treasure to carry with you as you reluctantly prepare to drive home later in the evening.

Hand in hand with Yoongi, you traverse the winding trails, enveloped in a comforting silence that needs no words. The stillness is a serene companion, allowing you to immerse yourselves in the natural symphony of your morning hike—the heady scents of the forest filling your noses, and the ethereal dance of dewy fog casting a mystical spell before you.

Returning from your invigorating hike as the sun climbs the sky, the lure of a sizzling farewell lunch beckons. 

Determined to make the most of your remaining moments in this woodland haven, you opt to ignite the grill one last time, infusing the air with the savory aroma of grilling meat and vegetables before bidding adieu to the serenity of the forest.

The atmosphere takes a bittersweet turn, the air thick with a sense of impending departure. Yoongi tends to the grill, the sizzle of meat a poignant soundtrack to your shared melancholy. 

You attempt to uplift the mood, filling the air with music that usually brings joy, but its lively notes seem to echo the underlying sadness that has settled between you two. As the speakers play on, both of you navigate the delicate dance between creating a facade of happiness and the somber reality of impending separation, etching the moment with shared glances that speak volumes.

“I don’t want to leave.” You force a laugh, the sound devoid of any genuine mirth. It resonates with an emptiness, a profound hollowness that mirrors the depth of your reluctance to part ways with this place.

“I know. Me neither. But we both have work tomorrow.” Yoongi confesses with a sigh, as if attempting to absorb every detail of this moment in nature. The bittersweet truth hangs in the air, a poignant reminder that, despite parting now, the prospect of future camping trips offers a glimmer of solace.

“It sucks.” You declare, your chopsticks attacking the innocent food on your plate as if it were the source of your frustration. A heavy exhale follows, a gust of annoyance and disappointment that echoes your sentiments louder than words ever could.

In the aftermath of your meal, a heavy silence descends as you both quietly consume the last moments of your enchanted getaway. Once the plates are cleared, a symphony of clinks and clatters follows as you meticulously dismantle the campsite and tidy up the van. 

Each fold of the bed, every item stowed away, feels like sealing away a fragment of the magic you’ve experienced.

As you pack with a heavy heart, the memories of this time resonate within you, a bittersweet melody. This retreat has been more than a mere escape; it’s been a rejuvenating balm for your weary soul. 

And unexpectedly, amid the rustling leaves and crackling campfire, you discovered more than tranquility—you got Yoongi, a devoted and caring partner who has etched himself into the canvas of your heart more than before.

As the final pieces are carefully stowed away, Yoongi’s voice breaks the silence, “Let’s head home.” 

Casting a wistful glance back at the forest, you feel a twinge of longing, realizing just how much you’ll miss this tranquil sanctuary. With a mix of reluctance and anticipation, you join Yoongi in Holly.

“I’m ready,” you declare, a determined spark in your eyes. 

“Let’s go.” You add, as if ushering in a new chapter, the engine’s hum signaling both an end and a beginning.

In the whirlwind of days since Yoongi bid you farewell at your apartment, work has morphed into a chaotic dance of demands. Despite the relentless pace, your passion for your job propels you forward, a driving force pushing you through the challenges with unwavering determination.

The ache of missing Yoongi has become a relentless companion, one that tightens its grip especially during the chaotic intervals between your demanding job tasks. In the relentless storm of work, the absence of Yoongi weighs heavy on your heart. 

The saving grace amid the chaos is the lifeline of texts exchanged during your fleeting breaks—a comforting escape when the demands of your job threaten to engulf you completely.

Yoongi has been engulfed in a torrent of tasks himself, with a queue of eager customers awaiting the magic touch of his expertise. The relentless stream of demands has formed an impenetrable barrier, rendering it impossible for you to reunite with him since that bittersweet moment he dropped you off.

Exhausted from a taxing day at work—navigating irate customers and orchestrating the intricate dance of formulating next year’s marketing strategy—you feel the weariness etched into every fiber of your being. 

Yet, fueled by a deep longing to be with Yoongi, you summon the last reserves of your energy and embark on a drive to his garage.

The brief journey from your workplace to Yoongi’s garage unfolds in a mere 15 minutes, the streets whispering tales of anticipation beneath the tires of your car.

You enter through the door, finding Yoongi engaged in conversation with a client. A warm smile graces your lips as you exchange pleasantries. Yoongi, visibly taken aback by your unexpected visit, manages a surprised expression. Making your way to a cozy corner at the back of the garage, you settle into a small lounge area with a plush couch and a quaint table – a designated spot for clients to wait while Yoongi tends to their automotive needs.

The plushness of the couch cradles your body, its soft embrace a welcome comfort. You surrender to its inviting texture, your eyes drifting lazily downward as relaxation takes hold.

In the gentle embrace of slumber, time becomes a blur, and you awaken to a tender caress on your cheek. A radiant gummy smile and affectionate eyes welcome you back to consciousness.

“You didn’t have to make the trip if you’re exhausted, love.” He remarks with a soft chuckle, playfully poking your nose.

“I couldn’t wait to see you.” You admit with a playful pout, rising from the couch. Yoongi chuckles at your expression, then turns back to the car he was tending to while you napped.

You pull your gaze away from Yoongi’s enticing figure, a mischievous spark in your eyes. His black coveralls, stained with a mix of grease and oil, only seem to enhance his rugged appeal. The plain white shirt beneath, now more of an art canvas of his work, adds an unexpected allure. Unable to contain the fire building within, you confess, “You look so damn sexy in those black coveralls.”

His hair is tousled, as though his hands have navigated through it in moments of frustration. A subtle hint of anticipation makes you unconsciously lick your lips, and with deliberate steps, you close the distance between you.

Yoongi’s laughter resonates through the garage as he continues working beneath the hood of a sleek red car. Unconcerned about the specifics of the make or model, you saunter over, a mischievous glint in your eyes. Playfully, you grab hold of the belt loops on his coveralls, tugging him closer, his frame melding into yours with an enticing collision of desire.

A husky grunt escapes him, “I’m filthy, babe,” he warns, yet he willingly surrenders to the allure of your touch, leaning into the intimacy that lingers between you.

“I couldn’t care less.” 

You declare boldly, diving in for a kiss that speaks volumes of your longing. Your hands venture southward, seizing the firm curve of his ass, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him.

Abandoning his tools, he seizes your cheeks, intensifying the kiss with a hunger that mirrors a man starved for the taste of your touch.

“I missed you so much.” He breathes as he pulls away, gazing at you with a tender intensity in his eyes.

“Me too. Yoongi, I want you.” You plead, your hands tracing the contours of his body until they rest on his chest, where the steady beat of his heart becomes the rhythm to which your desires dance.

“Fuck. Now?” 

He chuckles, running a hand through his tousled hair, and you bite your lip, nodding with eyes that plead for the immediacy of desire.

“You’re so needy. I love it.” He murmurs before diving back into your mouth, a breathless kiss igniting between you. His hands find your ass, squeezing it possessively, eliciting a moan that vibrates through your bodies. 

He guides you toward a navy car, and as your legs meet the cool hood, he gently eases you down onto it. The surface sends a shiver in your spine, but the contrasting warmth of arousal floods your senses, creating a delicious tension in you.

You meet his gaze, finding his eyes already dilated and hooded, a hungry anticipation shimmering within them, ready to consume you whole.

His hungry gaze traces every curve of your body, and you catch the subtle motion of his tongue moistening his lips, a clear sign of the anticipation building within him.

He skillfully slips off your shoes, smoothly unzips your pants, and lets them cascade down your body, the fabric whispering against your skin before landing in an eager heap on the floor.

You draw your legs up, finding a perch on the sleek hood of the car, a tantalizing contrast of warmth against the cool metal that sends a shiver of anticipation through your body.

You part your legs, a silent invitation beckoning him to immerse himself in the feast that awaits, an unspoken promise lingering in the air.

“Damn. I can already see how wet you are, fuck,” he remarks, his gaze lingering on your wet panties before slowly dragging them down to join your pants on the floor.

His rough and calloused hands explore the warmth of your pussy, gently teasing your clit, eliciting a moan of pleasure from you. “Such a perfect little pussy. All mine,” his voice drips with possessiveness, sending a delicious shiver down your spine as a surge of lust courses through your body.

He gracefully drops to his knees, and in an electrifying moment, his warm, skilled mouth claims your pussy, causing an immediate arch in your back as waves of pleasure surge through your body.

His tongue dances expertly over your sensitive folds, collecting the intoxicating essence of your arousal, each stroke sending tremors of pleasure through your core.

“Fuck, Yoongi.” 

Passion courses through you, and you moan uncontrollably, your hands tangling in Yoongi’s hair as you pull, eliciting a deep groan from him, sending shivers of desire through your entire being.

The scenery is nothing short of breathtaking, a sinful feast for the eyes. As he gazes at you, those once deep brown eyes now bordering on black, you can’t help but feel a magnetic pull, an intensity that sets your heart ablaze.

His relentless suction is met with the playful dance of his tongue, teasingly exploring the depths of your pussy. The sensation is so intense that your eyes involuntarily roll to the back of your head, lost in the ecstasy of the moment.

“If you continue with that sinful tongue, I won’t be able to hold back much longer,” you pant above him, and you can practically feel the wicked smirk against your sensitive folds.

His nose occasionally brushes against your sensitive clit, sending electrifying waves of pleasure through your body, and you can feel yourself going feral with an overwhelming surge of arousal.

He skillfully switches it up, his hot mouth returning to your throbbing clit as two of his fingers expertly delve into your core. Your back arches instinctively, and you can’t help but moan his name, breathlessly exclaiming, “Shit, Yoongi!”

With a swift and deliberate motion, he thrusts his two fingers into you at a relentless pace, unerringly targeting your sweet spot from the very outset.

Sensations intensify; your clit pulsates with an insistent rhythm, the coil in your stomach winding tighter with each passing second. Every breath quickens, and it feels like you’re on the verge of snapping at any given moment.

“Shit, I’m coming!” 

You pant, your body thrashing above him, arching in the throes of ecstasy. A ringing noise echoes in your ears as he continues to lick you through the waves of your orgasm. When he finally pulls away, you find yourself instinctively closing your legs around him, overwhelmed by the lingering sensations of pleasure.

“Fucking hell, Yoongi. You are incredible with your mouth. Come here and give me a kiss.” 

You yank him up by his shirt and draw him in for a passionate kiss. You can taste the remnants of your essence on his lips, but you don’t mind.

He moans into your mouth and abruptly pulls away, fixing you with a gaze filled with both need and unbridled lust.

He tugs at your shirt, demanding, “This. Off.” 

Without hesitation, you comply, raising your arms for him to swiftly pull it over your head and drop it to the floor. Now seated on the hood of the car, clad only in your bra, you’re relieved to find that the metal beneath you has warmed, erasing any lingering chill.

He playfully gropes your breasts, his eyes smoldering with desire. 

“Off with this too,” he commands, a hunger evident in his voice.

You unclasp your bra, letting it fall down the car to the floor. Yoongi hisses as he takes in your fully naked body, “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

His words pierce through you, igniting a fire within, and you sense your nipples responding to his gaze, hardening with a subtle ache.

“Shit.” An involuntary moan escapes your lips, your body ablaze with sensation and desire.

“Why am I the only one naked again?” You chuckle seductively, fingers teasingly pulling at his coveralls.

You strip away his coveralls, letting them cascade to a pool at his feet. Now free from the constraints of it, he leans in for another intoxicating kiss, the air charged with the promise of desire.

You notice the unmistakable outline of his dick through his boxers, and you teasingly pull away, whispering with a seductive smirk, “Those need to go.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, swiftly dragging the fabric down his legs to join the rest of your clothes on the floor.

You eagerly tug at his shirt, mirroring the way he assisted you earlier, revealing the contours of his body free from the constraints of the grease-stained fabric.

You glide your hands over his sculpted chest, tracing the lines of his toned torso and the softness of his tummy, evoking a light chuckle from him. “Damn, you’re irresistible,” you moan. “Every inch of you, I love.” Your whispered words in his ear accompany a firm grasp on his throbbing cock, teasing it with a few playful strokes.

He seizes your breasts, skillfully rolling a sensitive nipple between his fingers, eliciting a sensual moan of pleasure from your lips.

He gently guides you back, allowing your hair to cascade around your face, creating a frame that accentuates the desire etched in your features.

As he explores the curves of your body with one hand, the other skillfully strokes his dick, aligning himself with the heat of your eager folds.

Your patience wearing thin, you feel his tantalizing cock on your folds, gathering traces of your essence. The plea escapes your lips, “Please, just fuck me already.”

He indulges in a lustful chuckle, his words dripping with desire, “So needy and impatient.” 

He glides into your warmth with a single, seamless thrust, reaching the hilt effortlessly. A moan of pleasure escapes your lips, savoring the exquisite sensation of how perfectly he stretches you.

He establishes a relentless rhythm, driving into you with a firm grip on your hips. The car sways and rocks in sync with each powerful thrust, creating a symphony of passion and movement.

The intensity builds, and you gasp, questioning between pants, “The car’s in park, right?” as he unerringly targets your sweet spot, delivering each stroke with precision and pleasure.

He chuckles between breaths, his laughter a sensual melody in the air, “Yeah, it’s not going anywhere.”

Lost in the ecstasy, unsure where to anchor yourself, your hands find solace on his strong arms, gripping tightly as if to merge with the intensity of the moment.

As he relentlessly pounds into you, your intoxicating moans harmonize with the rhythm, your velvet walls clenching around him, eliciting a hiss from his lips. “You’re always so damn tight,” he growls, the raw desire in his voice echoing the fervor of your entwined bodies.

“Hey, Yoongi,” caught off guard, you hear a familiar voice calling Yoongi’s name from behind. Your heart races, realizing it’s too late to shield yourself from the waves of embarrassment flooding over you. Mortification takes hold, leaving you vulnerable and exposed.

“I wanted to see if you were done with my car.” Jungkook’s voice startles you, and as you turn, you’re met with wide-eyed disbelief written all over his face. He stands not far away, his eyes seemingly on the verge of popping out of their sockets. With a gaping mouth, he appears utterly speechless.

“Ah–, Jungkook…” caught in a scandalous embrace with Yoongi, the sudden intrusion of Jungkook startles a moan from your lips. Your eyes lock with his, and as Yoongi continues his relentless pace, the intensity of Jungkook’s unwavering gaze heightens the illicit thrill. 

Your body responds, walls clenching around Yoongi, a confusing mixture of embarrassment and arousal coursing through you. 

Why isn’t Jungkook looking away? 

And why, against all logic, does it only turn you on even more? Fuck.

As the symphony of primal sounds, a mixture of Yoongi’s guttural groans and the rhythmic slapping noises, reverberates through the garage, Jungkook finally seems to snap out of his trance.

“Fucking shit, I’m so sorry!” 

Fumbling for apologies, Jungkook hastily covers his eyes and spins around, as if attempting to erase the explicit scene he’s unintentionally stumbled upon. 

“I’ll come back later!” He shouts, almost sprinting out of the garage, leaving an awkward air lingering in his wake.

Yoongi’s powerful thrusts continue, unyielding. He leans down, his intense gaze fixating on your face. His voice, low and venomous, slices through the heated air, commanding, “Never moan another man’s name again,” as if marking his territory with each impassioned word.

In the absence of your response, his hands assertively claim your breasts, skillfully pinching both nipples. An involuntary twist of pain courses through you, a visceral reaction to his unrelenting touch.

“Did you hear me?” 

His voice cuts through the charged air, a stern demand echoing in the garage, his eyes eclipsed by a profound intensity that demands your attention.

“Fuck! Yes! I won’t do it again!” 

In a breathless chorus of affirmation, you surrender, the raw urgency in your voice harmonizing with the rhythmic cadence of your panting breaths as the impending release surges through you.

With a final series of primal thrusts, he withdraws from the depths of your pussy, leaving you tingling, breathless and confused.

“Follow me,” his command hangs in the air, and with a firm yet gentle pull, he guides you off the car and onto your unsteady feet.

As he guides you through the garage, both of you naked and exposed, you can’t help but inquire breathlessly, “Should we lock the door?”

He smirks, his voice a low rasp as you arrive at his office. 

“I don’t give a fuck.” He declares, the audacity in his gaze intensifying. “Seems like you like being watched. Just like in the forest, huh? Don’t think I didn’t feel you clench around me as Jungkook watched you get fucked.” 

With purpose, he propels you toward the couch in his office, ruthlessly clearing half of its contents to the floor. Pillows and discarded clothes cascade, creating a scattered pool at your feet.

In a low, demanding tone, he orders, “On all fours. Couch. Now.” 

As you hasten to comply, he positions himself just behind you, prompting a swift bend on his firm couch. The assertive grip on your ass intensifies, sending shivers down your spine.

“I’m going to fuck a baby into you.” 

He pants, desire thick in his voice as he strokes his dick, aligning once more with your eager pussy. “Make you nice and round, babe,” he grunts, the raw intensity of his thrusts sending waves of pleasure through you as he effortlessly slips back into the depth of your core.

“Fuck!” The sensation is even more constricting than before, and the provocative baby talk is pushing you to the edge. It’s utterly sinful, igniting something primal within you.

He pins you forcefully against the unforgiving couch, driving your head down, each powerful thrust causing it to shift and creak in protest, mirroring the intensity of your entwined passion.

Your senses are on the verge of overload, the relentless pleasure almost too much to bear. Thoughts dissolve into a blissful haze, and all that remains is the exquisite sensation of him sliding perfectly between your thighs.

“I bet you’ll look so incredible carrying our baby,” he pants, his grip tightening on a makeshift ponytail of your hair as he pulls you upwards with a low moan.

“Fuck!” 

You arch your back, relishing the delicious pull on your scalp that sends electrifying shivers down your spine.

You’re completely lost, a symphony of pants and moans escaping your lips. All you can do is surrender to the overwhelming sensation of his incredible thrusts.

His fingers leave a fiery trail as they wander from your hair to one of your breasts, teasingly groping. “Damn, your breasts will get bigger too,” he breathes, his words a sultry promise echoing in the heated air.

“Though I like them just as they are.” He murmurs in rhythm with a punctuated thrust, his voice a seductive melody harmonizing with the passionate dance between you.

At the sound of his words, a surge of desire courses through you, causing your walls to instinctively clench around him. He responds with a sharp intake of breath, a symphony of pleasure echoing in the intimate space between you.

“You like this, don’t you?” 

His voice, low and sultry, fills the room as he pulls on your hair once more, a tantalizing twist that sends a shiver down your spine. A subtle burn lingers, a delicious reminder of the electrifying sensations between you.

His name escapes your lips in a breathless moan of agreement, words failing to convey the intensity of the moment.

As he relinquishes his grip on your hair and breasts, his hands now firmly anchored on your hips, he rasps, “You look forward to being all puffy and swollen, don’t you?” 

His voice carries a seductive promise that sends shivers down your spine.

As the peak of pleasure beckons, the intoxicating blend of his presence within you and his lascivious words has you teetering on the edge. It’s as if the mere fusion of his dick in your pussy and the erotic cadence of his dirty words might propel you into climax without any further touch.

Attempting to vocalize your pleasure, a choked moan escapes your lips, a visceral symphony echoing the tightening coil of your body.

As he relentlessly thrusts, plunging into the depths of your pussy, he smirks and provocatively questions, “Are you coming, babe?”

In a fervor, you attempt to nod, your head resting down on the couch, eyes tightly shut, and hands clenched in the grip of pleasure.

His voice rumbles with desire as he commands, “Come on my dick,” his grip on your hips tightening, forcefully pulling you onto him, the unmistakable sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing through his office.

You release the tightly wound coil within you, and a warm flood of your essence envelops his pulsating dick. Colors dance before your eyes, a vivid symphony of sensations, as he, too, begins the pursuit of his own intoxicating climax.

His fervent praise echoes through the room as your moans and pants harmonize with the symphony of pleasure. 

“Shit, you feel so good.” His words, like a sultry melody, intensify the rhythm of ecstasy.

His raspy voice, saturated with pleasure, reverberates in the air as he relentlessly delves deep, bringing you to the brink. “Almost there, babe,” the promise of climax hangs in the room, each thrust a pulsating step toward an imminent release.

His fingers carve ephemeral imprints into the canvas of your hips, a testament to the intensity of his grip. With a primal and forceful thrust, he spills into you, a guttural exclamation escaping his lips, “Fucking shit!”

He persists in his rhythmic thrusts, a seamless dance that continues for what feels like an eternity. The symphony of heavy panting fills the air, a harmonious testament to the intoxicating pleasure enveloping both of you.

As he tenderly withdraws from the embrace of your walls, a bittersweet ache lingers. 

The ebbing warmth of his departure leaves a void, and you sense the telltale trickle of his semen tracing a tantalizing path down your trembling thighs. His appreciative hisses and groans echo the shared intimacy, turning the aftermath into a mosaic of shared passion.

With a resounding smack, he playfully ignites the fire beneath your skin, “You look so hot like this,” he remarks, his words carrying a teasing heat that matches the fiery imprint on your ass.

With a mischievous twirl, you shake your ass provocatively, a sassy smirk dancing on your lips, “Don’t I always look hot?”

He chuckles at your brattiness, delivering another firm slap to your ass, “Always, and I can’t get enough of you.”

You finally turn around, sitting down on the couch, to face him, licking your lips with a mischievous glint in your eyes, “I love you so fucking much, Yoongi,” your voice filled with a mix of passion and sincerity that leaves no room for doubt.

He smiles, his touch tracing a delicate path along your cheek, “Fuck, I love you too, babe,” his words carrying the weight of a thousand emotions, a confession that lingers in the air like a sweet promise.

Love saturates the atmosphere, wrapping around you both so tightly that the soft rumble from your stomach escapes like a playful secret, painting a grin on his already handsome face.

Your stomach protests again with a subtle growl, and he chuckles, the sound like a melody blending with the tender kiss he places on your lips. 

“Hungry, babe?” he teases, the warmth of his laughter echoing the affection in the air.

Amidst the afterglow, you share a playful chuckle, the joyous sound filling the room. 

“Yes, I’m starving,” you confess, relishing the delightful nakedness and the shared intimacy of the moment.

As the Friday sun dips below the city skyline, a wave of contentment washes over you. 

Work today was surprisingly pleasant, but what truly fuels your excitement is the anticipation of reuniting with your friends at the bar later. The prospect of laughter and camaraderie lights up your evening horizon.

After a demanding day at work, you sought refuge in the comforting embrace of Yoongi’s home. The soft sanctuary of his sheets cradles you, offering solace and a much-needed respite from the challenges of the day.

As you reluctantly peel yourself away from the embrace of the bed, a tangle of limbs and sheets left in the wake of a time filled with passion, you’re greeted by the stark reality of time ticking away. Your naked form, a canvas marked by the shared intensity, moves with purpose. In the urgency to locate your scattered clothes, a playful smile dances on your lips. 

“We have to get ready now, or else Hoseok will kill us if we’re late!”

“We’ll make it,” his laughter, a melodic assurance, echoes through the room as you engage in a hasty scavenger hunt for the garments that will shield your modesty. 

Triumphantly seizing the clothes, there’s a playful finesse to your actions as you toss his attire in his direction, a comical dance of urgency and amusement. 

With effortless efficiency, you transform from the cozy intimacy of his home to the bustling anticipation of the cityscape. Your steps echo determination, a rhythm set by the pulse of the impending night. Brisk and purposeful, you navigate the urban terrain, a seamless transition from the quiet haven of his house to the lively rhythm of the city streets. 

The search for a bus becomes a quest, an adventure laced with the promise of vibrant encounters awaiting you in the heart of the metropolis.

Entwined in the lively hum of the crowded bus, you and Yoongi carve out a cozy haven amidst the kaleidoscope of humanity. Hand in hand, your fingers dance in silent symphony, finding solace in the familiar warmth of each other’s touch. With your head nestled on his shoulders, you embark on the journey to the bar to meet up with your friends.

As you step into the lively ambiance of the bar, the infectious melody of your friends’ laughter orchestrates a beacon, guiding you unerringly to their gathering. Their exuberant joy reverberates in the air, making them a vibrant constellation impossible to overlook amidst the bustling backdrop of the bar’s chatter and clinking glasses.

“Hi,” you join the lively cluster of your friends with a warm greeting, sliding seamlessly into the open space next to Jungkook, who graciously makes room for both you and Yoongi. 

A subtle, rosy hue paints Jungkook’s cheeks a bright red, mirroring the flush that graces your own face as you and he share a shy glance, deliberately sidestepping prolonged eye contact in the midst of the gathering.

“You’re late,” Hoseok’s voice carries a mockingly stern tone as he playfully rolls his eyes at your belated entrance, his knowing gaze signaling that he’s well aware of the delightful reason behind your tardiness.

“Hey,” a collective greeting resonates from the group, their eyes discreetly flickering between you and Yoongi, deliberately sidestepping Hoseok’s playful comment.

Your warm smile encompasses the group as you inquire, “How have you all been?” 

Your eyes sweep across each face, a genuine affection evident, and you add, “I’ve missed you.”

Namjoon passes a pair of beers your way, and with a subtle gesture, you gracefully direct yours to Yoongi, ensuring he has two. Opting for a bottle of water, your choice doesn’t escape Namjoon’s notice, though he maintains a thoughtful silence.

Jungkook, still blushing beside you, stammers out, “It’s going well. I’ve landed more modeling gigs, and some are even international!” He chirps with infectious happiness, sharing his success with the group.

“Wow, that’s incredible, Kook,” you pat him on the shoulders, your touch conveying genuine pride and admiration. Feeling him tense beneath your hand, you can’t help but marvel at how he’s fearlessly pursued his dreams.

“The trip was amazing; I actually got contacted because of the pictures I uploaded to my Instagram,” he boasts with pride, and the table erupts in cheers. Everyone is genuinely happy for him, celebrating his success. 

You can’t help but notice his still lingering blush and how he subtly avoids making eye contact with you.

You shift your gaze to Hoseok, who’s casually sipping his beer. Sensing your lingering attention, he speaks, “Not much has changed since our last chat,” a warm smile playing on his lips.

You chuckle and take a sip of your water, scooting closer to Yoongi at your side, the warmth between you growing with every inch.

Seokjin’s infectious chuckles draw you in, the sound a delightful melody weaving through the air. “When I came home, my girlfriend had orchestrated a full-scale rearrangement of our entire apartment,” he shares, laughter dancing in his eyes. 

“I thought the nesting phase happened later in the pregnancy, but now I don’t know where my stuff is, and neither does she.” The room erupts in laughter, and you find yourself clutching your stomach, the ache from amusement almost as sweet as the camaraderie in the moment.

“That sucks man,” Taehyung remarks, his laughter lingering in the air.

“What about you Tae?” Namjoon asks him with a smile.

“Ah, life’s the same old rollercoaster, but that vacation? Absolutely necessary.” He shares, his smile a vibrant punctuation to the story in his eyes.

“Spill the tea, Joonie. What’s been brewing in your world since we got back?” Yoongi takes a leisurely sip of his beer, a conspiratorial glint in his eye as he nudges Namjoon, inviting a glimpse into the tapestry of his recent adventures.

“I took that girl from the dating app out on a date,” he confesses, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Turns out, she’s not just nice; we’re practically living parallel lives. It’s uncanny how much we have in common.”

“That’s wonderful, Joonie!” you beam like a lovesick fool. “I’m genuinely thrilled for you. Wishing you all the best, and I hope things work out perfectly for you two.”

Wrapped in Yoongi’s comforting embrace, you surrender to the warmth, a lovesick fool drowning in the bliss of his arms.

You catch the heavy sigh escaping Jimin’s lips as he nurses his beer, and with a knowing look, he confesses, “The vacation was incredible, but reality hits hard. Work hasn’t changed a bit, and I’m already feeling drained,” he laments, taking another sip of his beer.

Seokjin raises an eyebrow, taking a hearty gulp of his beer, “Why the hell is your face as red as a tomato, Kook? What’s wrong?”

Everyone’s gaze converges on the youngest, and the deepening shade of his blush is impossible to ignore. You sense the topic at hand, your cheeks mirroring the rosy hue. Yoongi, nonchalant, chuckles beside you, adding to the collective curiosity in the room.

“Why the laughter, Yoongi?” Namjoon quirks an eyebrow inquisitively. 

As he scans the expressions on both you and Jungkook’s faces, it becomes evident how you both go out of your way to avoid each other’s eyes.

“Something definitely went down between you two,” Hoseok chimes in, his voice filled with playful curiosity.

Jimin suddenly becomes intensely interested, leaning over the table to scrutinize both you and Jungkook. “Spill the details,” he demands with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Nothing happened!” Jungkook blurts out, raising his arms in a hasty defense, desperately trying to shield his crimson face. You, on the other hand, find solace in staring at the floor, unable to meet the curious gazes probing at your secret.

The guys persistently badger Jungkook for more information, but he clams up, sealing his lips tighter than a vault. Frustrated, their attention shifts to Yoongi once again.

Yoongi, nonchalant, raises his beer to his lips for another sip before casually revealing, “He saw us fuck.”

Jungkook lets out a dramatic groan, his hands shielding his eyes as if the vivid image of you and Yoongi in the throes of sex is still burned into his mind. The other guys, practically choking on their beers, sport eyes as wide as teacups, thoroughly amused by the revelation.

“What?” Taehyung practically yells, laughter bubbling up so much that his eyes glisten with tears. He turns to Jungkook with an incredulous expression, as if seeking confirmation for the unbelievable revelation.

“Why the hell were you watching them?” He interrogates Jungkook, genuine curiosity mirrored in the eyes of the entire group.

Jungkook finally glances at the group, his voice trailing off hesitantly, “I came to pick up my car at Yoongi hyung’s garage…” His eyes wander across the faces of the group, finally locking onto yours.

“And they were... at it,” his eyes reflect a blend of hurt and discomfort, “on the hood of my damn car,” he states with a stern and definitive tone.

A collective gasp fills the room, and all eyes turn towards you. 

Your gaze immediately drops to the floor. 

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks – it was Jungkook’s car. 

The hurt in his eyes now makes sense; he adores that car. The frustration builds as you grasp that Yoongi was well aware, yet said nothing! There will definitely be a conversation about this later, dammit.

“Gross!” Taehyung scowls and audibly scoffs, taking an exaggerated sip of his beer to mask the disbelief etched on his face.

Seokjin shakes his head in amused disbelief, his words carrying a playful scolding. “Aish, you’re not teenagers anymore! You’re in your thirties for God’s sake.” Laughter erupts from Teahyung, Namjoon, Jimin, and Hoseok, echoing the sentiment.

Namjoon bursts into earnest laughter, his words carrying a teasing tone. “Forgot to lock the door? Rookie mistake.”

Jimin raises his beer high in the air, a mischievous glint in his eye. “A toast!” you all turn towards him, curious about the unexpected celebration.

“To ___!” Jimin bellows, breaking the silence, and with some hesitation, the rest of the group chimes in, including Yoongi. You can only watch them with a mix of surprise and amusement.

“She finally got that office fuck!” Jimin exclaims with contagious joy, and the rest of the group erupts in laughter so uproarious that it turns heads throughout the entire bar.

Author’s note (2): OMG! This is the end of Friendcation 😭 What a wild ride it has been to write it. But so, so good. What first started as an idea because my sister and brother-in-law were going on a roadtrip in their van around Europe, birthed this lovely story 😭

I truly want to say a big enormous thank you, to you. Yes, you! Thank you so much for all the time you have spent reading this series – I really hoped you liked it. I appreciate every single one of you, you guys are amazing 💜

If you liked it, please consider commenting (even an emoji is fine!), or reblogging or getting in touch with me in an ask – I don’t bite, I’m very nice I promise. It’s also completely fine if you don’t want to do any of those things too, no pressure!

Please stay happy and healthy 💜

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[justagalwhowrites]

New in Town - Ch. 6: First Make Up

You and Joel come to an understanding. A continuation of New in Town chapters 1-5 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Best Friend's Dad!Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Angst. Smut, alcoholism, child neglect (mentioned, not thoroughly described.) No use of Y/N. Age gap (reader is 35 Joel is 47, not a focus of the fic). Minors DNI, 18+ only

Length: 8k

AO3 | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Last Thursday

Shit. 

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit. 

Shit. 

“It’s so good to see you!” His smile was broad and looked genuine, not that you really bought it. He hugged you and your arms hung limply at your sides for a moment before you lifted a hand and patted him lightly on the back. “Missed you like crazy!” 

He pulled back from you and looked you up and down. 

“Why don’t you look happy to see me?” 

Because you weren’t. 

“Just shocked,” you said. “What are you doing here?” 

“I can’t just stop by and see you when I’m in town?” He was damn near pouting. You tried not to roll your eyes. He was 53 goddamn years old and he was pouting. But that wasn’t a surprise, you were pretty sure he’d stopped maturing at 18. “You can come see me whenever you’d like, don’t need to call or anything, not that you ever do…” 

“Oh, that’s rich,” you snapped before the glint of the sun off the glass door of your office building caught your eye. The client you were taking to lunch was heading right for the reception desk. You closed your eyes for a second and sighed. “Look, I don’t have time for… whatever it is you’re showing up here about.” 

“I can’t just come to see my best girl?” 

He was all but pouting again. 

“We both know that’s not why you’re here,” you said. “Sit here, in the lobby, until I get back from this meeting. Don’t talk to anyone, don’t touch anything, we can talk about this when I’m done.” 

“You really think I’m going to make that big a mess in, what, an hour?” He raised his eyebrows at you. You glared back. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time. I mean it, Dad. Just… Don’t fuck something up. Please.” 

“Angel,” he took your shoulders in his hands. “It’s going to be different this time. I mean it. Go to your meeting, I’ll be here when you’re done.” 

Different this time. Sure. That was the chorus you’d heard again and again, every three years or so when he popped out of the woodwork and managed to track you down again. This time he had his shit together, this time he had a job he was just about to start, this time he was sober and going to stay that way. And every time he managed to blow at least part of your life up. 

You heard your name being called from reception and you pasted a smile on your face, heading to greet your client, trying not to think about the fact that your dad had managed track you down yet again. 

The lunch went surprisingly well, considering the fact that your brain was busy running through every damn scenario possible for why your dad had decided to show up and every way he could find to fuck your life up this time. 

To his credit, he was sitting on the couch in the lobby, scrolling through his phone when you got back. He didn’t even notice you come in. You went to reception and Norah, the woman working the desk that day, confirmed that he’d sat there quietly for the two hours you were gone. 

You sighed. Maybe he was going to make an effort this time. There was a first time for everything, you supposed. 

“Alright,” you said and he looked up from his phone and smiled. “I have a few more things to take care of today, think you can behave yourself while I work?” 

“You realize you’re the kid and I’m the parent, right?” He asked, getting up. 

“Don’t know why that should start now,” you muttered, leading the way to the elevator. 

He didn’t say anything back. Which you reluctantly gave him credit for. You’d been trying go goad him into it, antagonize him and push him into snapping so you could wash your hands of him. Apparently, he wasn’t going to let you.

You pulled out your phone when you got to your desk, your dad settling into a chair in the corner, pulling out his own phone and silently returning to it. You watched him for a moment. 

To say your relationship with your father was complicated was putting it pretty fucking mildly. He’d never been in your life in any meaningful way. He came and went like the seasons did, eventually even adopting a similar regularity. 

He cropped up every three years or so now and, since the last time you saw him had been before you moved to Seattle, you were due for him showing up and running roughshod over your life. 

In past visits, he’d emptied your bank account, invited some “old friends” over who ended up being random men he’d met at a bar who then trashed your apartment, showed up to an event at your office so drunk that he threw up on another guest. 

Every time, he claimed he wanted to see you. Spend time with his “best girl” (only girl - he had no other children and no woman would have him for longer than a few days), catch up on everything he’d missed when he was busy fucking around, moving from couch to couch until wore out his welcome, burning every bridge at every job he’d ever had. 

No, you didn’t trust your father as you could fucking throw him. And you sure as hell didn’t want him anywhere near Joel. 

That relationship was too new to bring him into the shit show that was your family, the stuff you tried so hard to hide that you all but lied about even having family to begin with. When talking to Joel about it, you’d just shrugged and said “No siblings, my parents have been gone for a while, no other family to speak of.” 

You knew what he’d assume with the word “gone.” The same thing everyone else did: that they were dead. They weren’t. They were very much alive, they were just dead to you. Your mother was in Wisconsin, your father was… wherever the fuck he happened to be at the time. Which, right now, was Austin. In your office. And you had the sickening feeling that, if he actually knew Joel existed, he’d find a way to ruin it. 

You sighed and texted Joel. 

“So sorry, something came up at work. Can’t see you tonight.” 

It technically wasn’t even a lie. Something had come up. And that something had come up at your work. 

It still felt like a lie, though, and it turned your stomach to lie to Joel. Even though you knew the best, safest option was to keep him far, far away from that part of your life. Your phone buzzed. 

“Shit happens. I’ll miss you. Tomorrow night?” 

Fuck, you wanted to be able to see him tomorrow night. Your thumb hovered over the keyboard for a moment. You wanted to be able to say “Yes, absolutely, I’m going to need you to fuck whatever is about to come up with my dad out of my head so I don’t go insane. Also, I think I’m falling in love with you but let’s talk about that later.” 

Instead, you set your phone down again. 

You answered a few emails, sent the details of the potential contract you’d secured with the client at lunch over to that department, reviewed some copy that your team was slated to present to clients early next week. Your dad sat in the chair, not saying a word, just as you asked. You stalled as long as you could before you turned in your desk chair to face him. You put your head in your hands for a moment, pressing your fingers into the hollows over your eyes before you sighed and folded your arms in front of you. 

“Alright,” you said. “What are you doing here.” 

He put his phone down on the small table and smiled a little at you. 

“Meant what I said before,” he said. “Missed you, Angel. Wanted to see you, spend some time with you…” 

“How did you even know where I was?” You cut him off. 

“I called your mom last week,” he said. “She said you’d moved here, that you had some fancy job down this way. She was real proud of you…” 

“So that’s why you’re here?” You asked, brows raised. “Think you can get something out of my ‘fancy job’?” 

“No, Angel, of course not,” he actually looked hurt by it. As though he hadn’t stolen thousands from you just six years ago. “Look, I know that I haven’t been the best father.”

“That’s an understatement.” 

He ignored your comment. 

“But I’m doing better now,” he said. “I really am. I was in prison for a bit…” 

“You what?” You demanded, sitting forward in your seat. “Jesus Christ, Dad, what did you do?” 

“Same shit I usually do,” he smiled a little, sheepishly. “Staying with a friend and I… uh… helped myself to some of the cash they had lying around. They weren’t thrilled with that so they called the cops.” 

“Shit,” you sat back in your chair and closed your eyes for a second, taking a deep breath, before looking at him again. “So what happened, did you have a good attorney?” 

“Nah, just a public defender,” he waved you off. “She was a nice lady but didn’t exactly have much time for my case. I pled out, got myself two years…” 

“You could have called,” you said. “I could have helped you, I went to school with some people who became pretty fucking good attorneys…” 

“I didn’t want to bother you,” he said. 

“Never stopped you before.” 

He ignored that, too. 

“It ended up being good for me,” he said. “A blessing, really. Being inside forced me to actually sober up. For real this time. Haven’t had a drink in 27 months.” 

You raised your eyebrows.

“Good for you,” you said, not even sarcastically. 

“Got my GED too,” he said, sitting up a little straighter. “I know it’s late in life but I want to try and do something right. Get a real job, actually do something with myself. Maybe pay you back, even though I know it won’t make up for all the shit I’ve put you through over… well, your whole life.” 

You nodded slowly. 

“So are you just out or are you on probation?” You asked. 

“Probation,” he said, wincing slightly. “Actually told my probation officer that I’d be staying with my kid…” 

And there it was.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered. “You can’t just…” 

“I know,” he said. You ignored him. 

“Remember that time, when I was 10 and Aunt Sue dropped me off at your place for what was supposed to be your weekend?” You snapped. “And you and all your buddies were so off your ass drunk and high that I ended up going to a neighbor’s house to see if they had food because I hadn’t eaten in two days? Because I sure fucking do, if you think I owe you something, that I’m going to baby sit you because you knocked my mom up…” 

“I don’t,” he said quickly. “I know that. I do.” 

“Do you?” You asked. “Because it sure seems like you think you can just come in here and fuck up my life on a whim and you think I’m just going to let you!” 

Your email dinged and you sighed, going back to your computer. One of your copywriters had a question about a client and you tried to focus on reviewing the creative brief before responding and going back to your dad. You took a deep, calming breath. 

“What is it you want.” 

“What I’d like,” he said slowly. “Is to stay with you for a little bit while I find a job. It’s OK if you don’t want that, Angel, it really is. But I’d like to get to know you. Actually get to know you. But I’ll call my probation officer and tell him right now that I’m going to need another place to go, it’s OK. He’ll help me figure it out, he’s a good guy. I’m not trying to be your responsibility. It’s a little late to try to be your dad. But I’d like to be something to you.” 

You just looked at him for a moment. He seemed so… genuine. Actually sincere. And he didn’t smell like liquor or look strung out. 

You sighed. 

“Alright,” you said. “You can stay with me for a bit. Just through the weekend to start, no promises after that.” 

He smiled. 

“I’d really like that.” 

You took your dad home with you that night, picking up tacos on the way to your apartment. You’d gotten a two bedroom place, at least. Not because you ever had guests - you never had guests - but because you worked from home sometimes and you wanted the office space. At least the couch you’d bought for that room was a sleeper sofa. 

You texted Joel again while your dad was in the shower, hating that you weren’t going to see him tomorrow, either. But if your dad was actually doing well, actually going to try and be a functional adult you could have a real relationship with, you owed it to him to try. 

Still. 

You didn’t trust him. Not yet. Especially not with something like Joel. 

 It was kind of surreal, having him in your apartment, doing anything but looking for a way to fuck you over. Consciously, you knew that’s not what it had always been. He’d often started with good intentions. You knew he didn’t set out trying to steal from you or embarrass you in front of your coworkers. He just didn’t know how to function in the life you lived. No one from your childhood did. He’d try, for a few days, and then he’d fall back into old habits. 

But this time was different. Or seemed different, at least. You hoped it was different. 

You watched a movie with him - Spaceballs, something he loved to watch with you on the rare occasions he was around enough to do things like watch movies with you when you were a kid - and he told you a bit about everything that had happened in the three years since you’d last seen him. 

For a change, he seemed genuinely interested in what you’d been doing since then, too. He’d never even known that you were in Seattle - something that you found oddly comforting but strange all at once. Strange that this person who made up half of who you were was so distant that he didn’t know where you’d lived two years of your life. That if something had happened to you, he wouldn’t have known. Something had happened to him. You hadn’t known that, either. You weren’t sure if you regretted that or not. 

“I do have to work tomorrow,” you said as you wound down for the evening. “Do you have a plan or anything you need?” 

“Just wanted to look for some jobs,” he said. “If I could use a computer? The phone makes it hard to fill out applications. Don’t think I’ll need to go anywhere.” 

“Sure,” you said, trying not to look surprised. “You can use my laptop, no problem.” 

You set up a profile for him on your computer and made sure yours was password protected. And you reset the password so it couldn’t be something he would know - Joel0926. Just in case. 

Joel texted you before you woke up - “Good morning, Beautiful. Hope your day isn’t too rough and that you’re taking care of yourself.” - and you wanted to tell him everything. All of it, all about your dad, all about where you came from, all about what you’d gone through to make it this far. 

But he liked the person you’d made him think you were. What if he didn’t like this other version of you? What if your dad just took off in a few days and you risked blowing up everything with Joel for nothing? 

 “Thanks,” you wrote back, with a heart emoji. You sighed. He deserved better than this. But you weren’t sure how to give that to him, not right now. 

All day at work, part of you was worried that you’d come home to find your apartment trashed or everything with any value gone with your father nowhere to be found. 

Instead, he was in your kitchen, cursing quietly. You frowned and followed the sound, a slightly burned smell on the air. 

“Dad?” You frowned, setting your tote bag on the counter as he bent over the oven. He jumped a little before straightening. He smiled sheepishly. 

“Hey Angel. How was your day?” 

“Fine,” you said. “What are you doing?” 

“I… well…” he looked down at a glass baking dish that was more blackened than anything else. “I figured you’d probably had a long day and since you’re letting me stay here, thought I’d try to cook and I found a recipe online but I haven’t really cooked before…” 

You went over and looked down into the pan with an almost amused frown. 

“What even is it?” 

“Well… I was gonna try and make a deep dish pizza,” he said. “You like that, I think, right? You went to school in Chicago, right?”

You smiled a little. 

“How about I just order us pizza?” You said, having to swallow past a knot in your throat.  

He looked relieved. 

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Probably smart.” 

You helped him apply for jobs through the weekend and were almost surprised to be settling into a pattern with him early into the next week. It was an odd role reversal, teaching your dad how to function in the real world. The one where people had jobs and bills and didn’t hop from friend’s place to friend’s place instead of having an actual home address. 

But you weren’t confident enough to actually tell Joel any of it. You were still dodging him. Telling him about your dad opened the door to telling him about everything else from your younger years, things you’d worked hard to not have to share with anyone. Next week. If your dad was still around, still keeping his shit together, still trying to be in your life, then you would tell Joel. And, if he still liked you, you’d tell your dad about him. 

Though that seemed like a big if. 

Wednesday, you started questioning things. 

Joel wasn’t texting as much. Not that you blamed him, you’d barely responded to him at all, not sure what to say but not wanting to lie to him. But you missed the texts. They were the bright spot in your day. You missed him. You wanted to go to his house and drag him to his bed and ride him until you were both sweaty and exhausted. You wanted to kiss him in a noisy bar that smelled like stale beer while you were tipsy. You wanted to call him on your way home from work so you could vent to each other and, by the time you came home to him, just hold each other until you had to move to figure out food. 

You missed him because he was the first person you’d been close enough to that you might need to tell them about all of it and that terrified you. So maybe you were looking for problems when you got home after work and found your dad on the couch, watching sports. 

“Hey Angel,” he smiled. 

“Hey,” you sighed, dropping your bag by the door and stepping out of your heels before you flopped on the couch next to him. He hugged you and kissed your check. You frowned. “Have you been drinking?” 

“What?” He laughed, looking at you like you were crazy. 

“You smell like alcohol.” 

“Angel,” he laughed. “It’s 5:30.” 

“So?” 

“No,” he said. “I haven’t been drinking. I did use some Listerine a little while ago, ate some sour cream and onion chips, didn’t want to knock you out with my breath.” 

“OK,” you said, still skeptical. “How was your day?” 

“Good,” he said. “I think I have an interview for next week, can you help me respond to the recruiter? I’m shit at writing things and not sounding like an idiot.” 

“Sure,” you laughed a little. “Do you have job interview clothes?” 

“What d’you mean?” He frowned, looking over at you. 

“I mean you can’t show up to a job interview in jeans and a t-shirt, Dad,” you said. “Do you have like… a button down and khakis at least?” 

“Don’t exactly got much,” he laughed a little. “Sure it’s fine, just a factory job…” 

“We’ll go shopping when I get off work Friday,” you said. “I’ve got a late call with the west coast team tomorrow, I’ll be at the office late.” 

“Honey, I can’t afford…” he began but you cut him off. 

“I can,” you said. “Don’t worry about it.” 

There was a knot of guilt in your stomach after accusing him of drinking, after he was making such an effort. But you checked the levels on your liquor bottles before you went to bed all the same. 

But by Friday, you were feeling good about how things were going. There was a routine in your life, one that involved your father for the first time ever. It looked like he was serious about settling down in the area, applying for jobs and setting up interviews. Besides Wednesday’s blip, things seemed stable and you couldn’t stay away from Joel any more. 

When he texted you Friday morning asking how things were going and if you’d be free again sometime soon, you took a deep breath and texted back. 

“Hoping by Sunday,” you said. 

By Sunday, you’d feel like telling him about your dad and everything else was worth the risk. Unless everything blew up. In which case, who cares. 

You just hoped he’d still be interested, especially after you’d all but blown him off all week.

You took your dad to the mall that night, him modeling the dress pants and button downs for you, coming out of the fitting room looking a little unsure but a small smile on his face all the same. 

“Feel like we should be doing the reverse of this,” he said, putting an arm around your shoulders. “If I’d done what I shoulda done years ago, I could have taken you shopping when you were a teenager and you could have showed me shit like prom dresses and I could buy you something you needed, not the other way around.” 

“Yeah, well,” you shrugged and smiled a little. “I’m just glad we get to do this now.” 

He smiled and kissed your temple. 

“Me too, Angel,” he gave you a squeeze. “Me too.” 

You went by H-E-B on the way home to get a few things for the weekend and started to go grab a bottle of wine and a six pack when you stopped yourself. Your dad laughed a little. 

“Just because I’m not drinking doesn’t mean you can’t drink,” he said. “It’s fine. I can handle it.” 

“You’re sure?” You frowned. 

“I’m sure.” 

So you got the beer and a bottle of red wine - one from the winery Joel had taken you to on your first date, something that made you smile - and got steaks. Getting to see Joel again soon, your dad lining up a job interview, things actually going well between the two of you for the first time in your life. It felt like a reason to make something nice. 

Your dad went to put his new clothes and shoes away while you started dinner and you decided to make yourself a cocktail. It was going to be a good weekend. You could feel it. 

You made a Tom Collins and had just melted butter in your skillet to baste the steaks when you took your first sip. 

It was watery. 

So watery it didn’t taste like there was liquor in it at all. 

Your hand shook as you set the glass down and you went to the liquor cupboard and took out the gin. You sniffed the bottle and smelled almost nothing. No familiar burn or hint of pine. You took a sip straight from the bottle to test it. It didn’t matter that you were putting your lips on it. You knew you wouldn’t need to save it. 

It was water. Straight water. 

You clenched your jaw and swallowed past the burning tightness in your throat. You weren’t about to cry. Not in front of him. 

“Hey Angel,” he said, coming out from his room in sweats. He froze when he saw what was in your hands. “Oh, shit, I…” 

“Thought you were sober,” your voice shook. “Thought you wanted me in your life.” 

“I do, Honey, I really do, but…” 

“But you just couldn’t keep yourself from getting fucked up every day?” You were going to cry. You were going to cry in front of this fucking asshole because you cared. He’d made you actually care, you’d fallen for his bullshit yet again and it was your own goddamn fault. “Jesus Christ, were you really going to go get a job working with heavy equipment and show up every day drunk off your ass until you killed someone?” 

“I know my limits,” he was defensive. “I know what I can handle and sometimes I just work better with a little alcohol in my system, that’s all I’ve been doing, that’s…” 

“This was damn near full when you got here,” you slammed the bottle on your counter. “You’ve been here a week. A fucking week and you drank through an entire fifth of gin, that’s not a little alcohol, Dad, that’s getting hammered every goddamn day.” 

You pulled the pan off the stove and threw it in your sink with too much force before turning off the burner. You leaned against the counter for a moment, your fingers pressed so hard into the granite it seemed like they should be denting it. 

“I want you gone,” you said. 

“Angel…” 

“I mean it,” you spun to face him. “I want you out. I don’t care where you go, I don’t care if you end up back in fucking prison because you lied to your parole officer, I don’t care if you drop dead. I want you gone, I never want to see you again, I want you to get the fuck out of my life.” 

You shoved past him and went to your room, locking the door behind you. You curled up on your bed and let yourself cry. 

You wished your father had never found you here. You wished you’d been smart enough to not fall for his shit this time around, You wished you didn’t want a connection with him, want just a shadow of what Sarah had with Joel because being on your own in the world with no ties to anything hurt almost as much as suffering your family’s bullshit did. 

But, most of all, you wished Joel was here. You wished you could curl up against him and that he would hold you while you cried. You wished he’d tell you that you weren’t fucking stupid, that it made sense that you wanted a relationship with the man who’d done nothing but fuck you over your entire life, that everything was going to be OK and that he cared about you in spite of it all. 

You heard your front door close and you stayed on the bed, hoping that he’d actually listen to you and not come back. You’d need to get the locks changed, check the browser history on your laptop to see if he’d gotten into any of your bank accounts or credit cards, look through your apartment and make sure he hadn’t stashed drugs somewhere and forgotten about them. Fuck, why had you been so stupid? 

The sound of the crash outside jerked you out of your head. It was loud enough that the building shook a little, the endless horn after the crash impossible to ignore, and you got up, going for your front door. 

Outside, outlined by the setting sun, was your car wrapped around a lamp post. 

“Dad!” You yelled, running for the smoking heap of metal. He was slumped over the steering wheel and you ripped the door open, checking his pulse. His eyes fluttered open as you did, looking confused. 

“What…” 

“You decided to steal my car this time,” you said. 

“Oh, shit, I…” 

“Save it,” you snapped as a neighbor ran outside, cell phone pressed to her ear. 

You ended up at the hospital with him most of the night. By the time the police were able to test him for alcohol, it was all out of his system. He hadn’t had a drink since you’d picked him up to go to the mall that evening. You weren’t sure if you should be grateful or if you wished he’d failed the test so he’d end up back in prison and far away from you. 

He was mostly fine, just a little banged up and a broken nose from the airbag. Your car was totaled. 

In the back of the Uber to your place after hours in the ER, you looked at him. 

“You’re gone,” you said. “By noon. Otherwise, I call the cops and you can deal with them.” 

He just nodded down at his hands. 

The next morning, you ordered him an Uber to the bus station. He tried to talk to you but you just sat on the couch, holding your coffee cup, pretending you were alone. 

“I know I fucked it all up,” he said, standing in your doorway “But I really did like spending time with you this week. I…” 

Your phone dinged, saying the driver had arrived. 

“Your ride is here,” you said, not bothering to look at him. 

“OK.” 

He stood there and you felt his eyes on you for another moment before he turned and left. You sank back into your couch and rested your forehead in your hand for a moment, trying not to cry. Again. Because fuck, this man did not deserve it. 

And then there was the knock on your door. 

“Are you fucking kidding me,” you set your mug down so hard that coffee sloshed over the side and onto the table. You stalked toward the door, cell phone in your hand. You were going to call the cops on him this time, you really fucking were. “I swear to God if you forgot something you’re not coming back in…”

But it wasn’t your dad standing there. 

“Joel,” you fought the urge to throw your arms around his neck and cry against him. He didn’t really look like himself, he looked upset. Hurt, angry, something. You frowned. “What are you…” 

“Can I come in?” His voice was strained. You just nodded. “Think we need to talk.” 

*** 

Your place looked the same. 

It was strange, almost. Like there should be some indication of this other man here, something different about it but it was the same. 

“Can I get you anything?” You asked. Your voice was thick. “I have coffee…” 

“No thanks,” he said. “Don’t know how long I’ll be stayin’.” 

“Oh,” you deflated a little. “Alright… What did you want to talk about? Because…” 

“I thought we were on the same page,” he said, cutting you off again. He felt like a dick doing it but he had to get this out, if he didn’t it felt like he was going to burst with it and if he stood here too close to you for too long he wouldn’t do it. He’d just kiss you and wind up in your bed and be stuck in this sickening limbo he’d been trapped in for a week now. “I really did. We never talked about it, not really, but I thought…” 

“I thought we were, too,” you frowned, looking confused. “I don’t…” 

“You said you deleted your dating apps,” Joel said, his voice becoming a little heated. He took a breath. “You said you weren’t fucking anyone else, sure made it sound like you weren’t lookin’ for anything else, like you wanted to actually see where this would go, what this could be and… fuck, I believed that! 

“You made me think it was OK to feel something for you,” he pressed on, standing in your living room with you in front of him, your arms crossed over your body and you looked so small, curving in on yourself like you were trying to disappear. And so much of him wanted to just grab you and hold you and tell you that everything was going to be OK but how could he promise that if you couldn’t even fucking agree on what you were to each other. “So I let myself feel it, I let myself start to fall in love with you and then you go fuckin’ silent on me. You don’t text me first and what you do send is basically nothin’, you never call and then I see you at the mall after you tell me you’re too busy to see me with some guy wrapped around you and that same fuckin’ guy is leavin’ your apartment this morning! I mean, fuck, if I was just some damn fling for you that’s fine but could you at least tell me? Not act like I meant somethin’ to ya?” 

Joel was out of breath, his hands on his hips. He couldn’t look at you, not when you looked so sad it was like someone had hit you and he was still so mad, anyway. 

“That was my dad,” you said softly. 

Joel looked at you. 

“What?” 

“The man,” you closed your eyes for a second before you took a deep breath and opened them again. “At the mall, last night. Leaving my place this morning. That was my dad.” 

“You said your parents were dead.” 

“No,” you shook your head. “I said they were gone and they are, from my life. Except when my dad pulls this stunt where he crawls out of the woodwork every few years.” 

He just stood there, staring at you for a moment. 

“Want to sit down?” 

He nodded and followed you to the couch. He sat down first and you sat on the opposite end of it, as far away from him as you could be. 

“You knew I thought they were dead,” he said slowly. You nodded. “Why.” 

“Joel…” 

“You have to help me understand this, Beautiful,” his voice was calmer now. “Why would you let me believe a lie, I don’t…” 

“Because I’m trash, OK? I’m trash, Joel, that’s why,” you snapped. 

He frowned, shaking his head. 

“You’re not…” 

“Yes, I am,” you said, voice calmer. “Trailer trash, if you want to get technical about it, since I grew up in one. My dad knocked my mom up when she was 15 and he was 17, they were 15 and 18 when I was born. He took off right away and I grew up with my mom and one of her sisters because she was the only person in the family who didn’t disown my mother for getting pregnant at 15 and letting the dad run off. 

“They were shit parents. It’s not really their fault, they were kids, they didn’t know what they were doing but they were really bad at it. I started taking care of myself before I can really remember, I couldn’t rely on anybody. My dad was in and out of my life even then, he decided real quick that his fucking friends and alcohol and drugs were way more important than I ever was. I tried, for a long time, to matter to him. To both of them, really. But I couldn’t so… 

“I figured out that the only hope I had for not ending up like them was school. So I buckled down and did everything I could to be the best fucking student I could be. I took every AP class I could so I could get all the college credit I could manage before leaving high school, I got As in everything and I managed to get into a really good school.” 

You squared your jaw, determined, and kept going. 

“But good schools aren’t cheap and I had scholarships but they didn’t cover everything and it’s not like my parents were good for any of it. I didn’t want to take out loans. So I did the only thing I could find that would pay for the rest of school and pay the rent while letting me be free for classes during the day and I danced all four fucking years I was in school.” 

“Danced?” Joel frowned. 

You rolled your eyes. 

“I was a stripper, Joel,” you said. “I’m not ashamed of it, it kept me fed and out of debt, but I’m not about to put it on my fucking LinkedIn. And it’s because they were there for none of it, they didn’t do a damn thing to help me or support me or anything but every few years my dad shows up and finds new ways to fuck me over. He wiped out my savings account once, trashed my apartment with his buddies another time. This visit he had a pretty good con going, showed up to my office acting like he had his shit together when, really, he was doing the same fucking thing he always does, which is drink and fuck his life up. And when I found out, he stole my fucking car and wrapped it around a lamp post. Because he’s trash and I am, too…” 

“No, you’re not,” Joel said firmly. 

“Joel…” 

“You’re not,” he said. You were looking at him like you were about to cry. It made his chest hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this? Why didn’t I know any of this?” 

“Because everything that I am now?” You said. “Everything that you know and like about me? That’s all invented, I made it all up. I had to build myself from the ground up after I got away from that life. You liked the me that I built, Joel. The me who reads classic books and has an understanding of film theory and went to Northwestern. Why on Earth would you like the version of me who knew how to make ramen when she was four because that’s what she could reach in the cupboard or the me who took her clothes off to pay for college?” 

“Because I like you,” he said gently. “Don’t really care which version, so long as you’ll let me spend time with you.” 

All the hurt and the anger that had been swallowing him was gone now. In its place was this need to take care of you, to be something constant in your life in a way no one had been for you before, in a way you so desperately deserved. 

You shook your head. 

“That’s sweet, Joel,” you were choked up, eyes watery. “Really, it is, but you don’t mean that.” 

“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t mean,” he moved to the middle cushion of the couch. “The person you are now? The one who laughs at crappy movies with me and doesn’t know shit about wine and finds the best restaurants in town? She wouldn’t exist without the girl who had to figure out how to feed herself or the young woman who was so determined to get an education she worked her ass off to make it happen.

“I wasn’t jokin’ when I said I was falling in love with you, baby, and that means all of you. Even the parts you don’t like, even the parts I don’t know yet. I’m fallin’ for the whole package and I’m fallin’ pretty hard so I’m really hoping we’re on the same page on that.” 

You nodded quickly, tears actually falling now. 

“Yeah,” you said, still nodding. “Yeah, we are. We really fucking are.” 

You threw your arms around his neck and he pulled you against him, your face going into his chest as you cried against him. 

“I’m so sorry,” your voice was muffled by his shirt. “I should have just called you and talked to you, I was so scared of losing this, losing you, I just hid it all and I almost let him ruin the best thing that’s happened to me in so long and…” 

He shushed you.

“Don’t apologize,” his hand made a slow, gentle pattern from the crown of your head down your back, smoothing your hair down, tracing over your spine. “I’m sorry for assuming the worst, I’m sorry for making you think that anything about you would make me want to leave. I’m sorry for not just tellin’ you what you mean to me.” 

“Yeah?” You sniffed a little, pressed yourself closer to him. 

He kissed the top of your head. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Because if I’d just told you how I felt about you, you wouldn’t have been dealing with all this on your own. I could have helped. I want to help. So please, Beautiful. Let me help.” 

You looked up at him from your place against his chest. 

“Can you just hold me for a while?” You asked quietly. “I really missed you.” 

He kissed your forehead. 

“Of course, baby,” he said quietly. “I really missed you, too. So damn much.” 

You shifted so that you were all but on his lap and he held you close, just feeling you against him. It hurt to think about you so many years ago, having to go through shit on your own because none of the adults in your life stepped up to take care of you. It was hard to not picture Sarah as a little girl, what she would have looked like trying to fend for herself when she was four or five.  

It hurt, too, to realize that you’d been so alone this past week. That he’d been thinking about you and wanting to see you but hadn’t been someone safe for you to come to. He kissed the top of your head again, making a silent promise to himself that he’d never let you feel that way again. That he’d always be the person you came to first, with anything, even if all he could do was hold you through it. He wasn’t going to let you do it all alone, not anymore, not again. 

Your tears eased and you adjusted, nuzzling against him, your nose trailing over his throat. 

“Feeling better?” He asked quietly. 

“Yeah,” you nodded against him and pressed a long, gentle kiss to his neck. “Yeah, I am…” 

You kissed his neck again, your lips against his skin for a few seconds, your breath warm and soft. He groaned a little. 

“Don’t know if that’s such a great idea, Beautiful,” he pulled you back from him slightly and you frowned, your brows knitting together. 

“Why not?” 

“Just…” he adjusted himself so you wouldn’t see him starting to harden in his jeans. “Sounds like you’ve had a hell of a week and…” 

“But I want to,” you separated from him enough to pull your top up and over your head, casting it aside on the floor and leaving you in a lace bralette. “Please, Joel…” 

He wasn’t about to argue too much. He nudged you back on the couch so he could pull your pants and underwear off before he pulled his own down. Before he could even get them fully off you were on his lap, straddling him and pulling at his shirt until it was over his head and on the floor. 

Joel slipped his hands to your waist and slid them slowly, gently over your skin, exploring you, feeling you, until he reached the bralette. He pulled that up and over your head before tossing it to the ground and leaving you bare before him. 

“Fuck, beautiful,” he breathed, looking you over before kissing you deeply, his tongue teasing into your lips. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” you started grinding slowly against his lap, your wet slit brushing against his cock and making him shudder with desire. “Fuck, I wanted to talk with you so bad this week, Joel. You were all I really wanted and…” 

“You’ve got me,” he said quietly, kissing you again. “Don’t have to do it all alone ever again, Beautiful. Promise you don’t.” 

You nodded and squeezed your eyes shut for a moment before you rose up enough to notch his head against your dripping, grasping entrance. You dropped your forehead to his and your eyes met his own as you slowly, surely, sank onto his cock. 

He moaned as you took him completely, fighting to take deep, steady breaths. You felt so damn good around him and he couldn’t help but look down to see where the two of you were joined, his cock disappearing into you. The sight of you taking him into yourself, the way your body made room for him, how you felt around him made him acutely aware of just how close he was to you. He was a part of you like this and it felt like this was how it was supposed to be, you and him together. 

His hands ranged over you, up your back to pull you tightly to him and you gave a ragged, desperate little gasp. 

“I’ve got you, Beautiful,” he held you tightly to him as you held him inside yourself. “I’ve always got you.” 

You started to move over him then, every thrust of your hips delicious and slow, like you were savoring how he felt. You started to tighten around him and he groaned a little. 

“Missed you, Joel,” you breathed, your pace increasing. “So, so much.” 

You rode him and he was so lost in you he wasn’t sure how long he was clutching you to him, he was too far gone to notice. All he knew in the world was that you were his, that he could feel you so close it almost hurt, that he always wanted to be able to be with you like this. 

“I’m gonna come,” you panted, pressing yourself flush against him, dropping your head to his shoulder. “Fuck, Joel, you feel… I’m gonna come I can’t…” 

“Come on, baby,” he pressed his fingers into your flesh. “I’ve got you, I’ve always got you, want you to come for me. Come on my cock, baby, want to feel you, let me feel you.” 

You came with a strangled cry and stilled as your pussy fluttered around him. He fucked you through it, thrusting up into you three more times before the force of your orgasm was too much and he pushed himself in deep, moaning as he filled you. 

He held you like that, your bodies joined and aligned, for a while. Eventually, he relaxed his hold on you and you sat up a little, his cock softening within you. He reached a hand up and threaded his fingers in your hair, his palm against your cheek. 

“Next time somethin’ happens, how about we just talk it out,” he smiled a little. “Like this a whole lot more than not seeing you.” 

You laughed a little. 

“Yeah, Joel,” you smiled. “Next time, we’ll talk.” 

Next Chapter

A/N: Soooooooooo

I felt kinda bad leaving that cliffhanger out there two weeks in a row BUT now we have them on the same page :D and stuff is out there :D :D and they can move on to figuring out whether or not to tell Sarah :D :D :D

Don't forget that you can follow me and subscribe on my updates blog where I'll only reblog each new chapter once so you're not spammed.

I hope you all enjoyed this angsty little interlude in this story. I know I did! Thanks for being here <3 Love you!

Taglist: @fanficismydrug

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #smut fic #joel miller x oc #new in town

[corpsebasil]

Moon Summoner 18+

The sister of the Sun Summoner and the prince of Ravka have history, and his engagement is something neither of them want.

@themermaidscales82

It had been days since your sister’s engagement to the prince of Ravka, your joy at being reunited with your younger sibling overshadowed by a sudden irritation that grated on you at every turn.

He had been your friend, once. But things had changed since he’d come back with Alina, and whatever good graces had used to simmer between you were now replaced by a constant war of bitching at one another, angry looks across rooms, and a tense silence that occurred when Alina left you two alone for more than a second.

He didn’t understand where things had gone wrong. He’d come back with the Summoner and proposed in what was clearly a political alliance, and you had a boyfriend. A godsdammned boyfriend. His blood had boiled when he’d seen the handsome Grisha man wrap his arms around you, your giggle so girlish and amused you had to be acting.

And when he’d moved towards you, smiling in greeting, nothing but an icy expression of hate had clouded your features. It had wrenched something inside him, making it difficult to breathe. So, he’d finally confronted you, cornering you after what he’d overheard some female Grisha gossiping was the cutest picnic they’d ever witnessed on the Palace lawns.

“Oh no.” You started, pleasant expression souring as you watched the prince approach. “Don’t start. I was having a good day for once.”

“Why are you with him?” Nikolai demanded, and you let out a surprised bark of laughter; of all the things he could’ve opened the conversation with, you never would’ve guessed that.

“Why do you care?” You rolled your gorgeous eyes, walking past, your unbound dark hair tumbling down your back. Nikolai had always thought your hair was more raven’s blue than black, and was proved right when the Sun hit it through the palace windows. Gods he was obsessed with your hair and the scent of lavender that clung to it. Alina was beautiful, but to him, you were stunning. “Don’t you have my sister to warm your bed, Nikky?”

“She isn’t—she isn’t warming my bed, Saints above.”

“But she will. Once you’re married, she will, and I’ll get to watch with absolute joy as you pop out cute little babies.” You stopped, tapping a nail against your pursed lips. “I wonder what a Starkov and Lantsov baby would look like.” Then you smirked. “Hopefully they look more like Alina and I than you.”

Nikolai didn’t argue, not when your heart-stopping features were for once not glaring up at him. But the idea of Alina—he barely repressed a shudder.

“Nice picnic?” He asked, switching gears, and your smile dropped again.

“Saints save me.”

“He looks like a prick. You should date someone more worthy of your attention than a lowly Grisha nobody.”

“What like you?” You snapped, defensiveness rising. He had left. Left. And he hadn’t even asked you to go with him when he decided to galavant around the world. So he didn’t have a single iota of a say in who you dated, or who shared your bed. “In your damn dreams, prince.”

“You can’t be serious. He’s boring, he’s—”

“I love him. So why don’t you stop fucking with me and leave me. Alone.”

“You’re not in love.” Nikolai scoffed, grabbing your arm as you turned to go. “Trust me, sweetheart. I know what you look like when you actually want someone. So you can stop lying to me.”

“You don’t know a thing about me.” You moved closer to him, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Not a thing.”

“I know this,” Nikolai said, eyes dark and unamused. “I know that pissing me off is fun for you. I know that I annoy you so much it makes you want to have sex with me.”

“Stop it.” You smacked at his chest, and he caught your wrist, yanking you an inch closer. Close enough to kiss. “Nikolai. Stop.”

"Admit it." He urged, raising an arrogant brow. "Admit you want me and I'll let go."

Your blood rushed in your veins but you spoke anyway, unable to let him win this stupid, stupid fight.

"If you don't let go of me," you hissed, glaring. "I will kill you."

“And what would your Sun-loving sister have to say about you murdering her future husband?”

“I’d tell her you were sexually harassing me in the hallway and that you deserved it.”

The ire faded from his eyes and he let you go, casting a glance to the heavens as if he was sending up a quick prayer. Then he looked back at you, face softening, and dipped his head once before walking off.

“That’s it?” You called after him, and he turned, still walking backwards as he slammed a nail into the coffin of your own making.

“Clearly I misjudged your feelings towards me. I won’t make that mistake again.”

And when he left, truly left, you felt something fragile in your chest begin to crack.

-

Your boyfriend had known something was off the moment he saw you in your rooms preparing for the party that night, your anger a silent cloud of smoke billowing around your head. Alina had been trying to convince you to use your power for days, the Moon’s twin to her own sunshine, but you had sworn off Grisha training long ago, preferring the calmness of a normal life as compared to a Saint’s.

You hadn’t been pushed, either, when a week after you’d arrived at the palace you’d blinded the man who attempted to force you into training. No one made that mistake again. Alina had come by to see you after your fight with Nikolai, demanding why he was in such a bad mood and begging you to play nice in front of the guests that night. And when she’d brought up your power, beginning the same spiel about how the two of you were stronger together, you’d practically bitten your little sister’s head off.

You regretted the harsh things you said the moment you saw her lip tremble, excusing herself from your chambers. So now you were pissed at Nikolai, still confused by his behavior and…have sex with him. That’s what he’d accused you of wanting. And damn you if your face didn’t flush at the prospect, knowing from the time before he’d left what a skilled kisser the prince happened to be.

“Y/N?” The Grisha that entered your room called out, his expression confused. “What’s wrong?”

“This isn’t—” your clamped your teeth down on the words. Nikolai had jarred you, that was all. But still, the words left your mouth, and you hated yourself, hated yourself for how many people you’d hurt today with your brashness. “I don’t think this is working. I don’t know if I can be in a relationship right now. Not with—with you.”

The boy was quiet for a long moment, then nodded, something like understanding washing over his face as his cheeks reddened.

“I get it.” He sighed, running a hand over the back of his neck. “He’s a prince, so.”

“What?” You snapped, turning in your chair, but to the Grisha’s credit he didn’t flinch, not as he held a small box out to you. “He asked me to give you this. He apologized to me in the hall for…for being passive aggressive. Said it wasn’t about me and,” he let out a soft laugh. “I’m a guy, Y/N. I can tell when someone’s wound up over someone.”

Your words failed you as he handed you the box. The power move you’d just played into made you feel a bit sick. Nikolai apologized, gave your boyfriend a present to give you, and then you dumped him? You could almost see Nikolai’s amused grin in your mind, and the way he’d laugh when he realized he’d won the fight without hardly trying. You’d unintentionally proved him right.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, but the boy just smiled sadly and left, shutting your door quietly behind him. You swallowed and looked down at the box, taking a bracing breath before opening the lid.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting—a scorpion, a bomb, what—but it definitely wasn’t the necklace that laid on a bed of velvet, the emerald hanging from the end so stunning it almost stole your breath. And under, written in his princely handwriting, was a note.

My Y/N,

I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say besides that.

- N.

-

The party was in full swing by the time you made it inside, immediately grabbing the nearest flute of champagne and knocking it back. The necklace, stunningly beautiful against your chest, was slightly cold against your heated skin.

You scanned the crowd then yelped when Alina grabbed your hand, pulling you into a quick hug.

“I’m sorry,” she said, doe eyes wide. “I shouldn’t have pushed you about Summoning. I know you don’t like it and—”

“No.” You squeezed her tightly, that face and build that was similar to your own, and pulled back to smile. “I’m sorry. I should never have treated you like that.”

She smiled gratefully, looking stunning in her own gown, but paused, looking at you with a note of confusion.

“Where’s um—gods what was his name?”

“We’re done.” Was all you said, your smile falling a bit.

Alina opened her mouth to say more, but a courtier asked her to dance, and she shot you one last meaningful look before accepting. The two of you would talk later. Later would be when you could vent to her. But for now, you felt a presence at your side, not touching you, and it was as if your very soul recognized him before you looked up.

“I see you got the gift.” He said simply, eyeing the jewel that hung from your neck. “It looks beautiful on you.”

“Nik,” you sighed, turning to face him. “can we please not fight anymore? I’m exhausted of this.”

“A cease-fire, darling?” He raised his brows, but a glimmer of hope was building in his eyes. He looked ridiculously handsome in his suit, blue eyes soft as they watched you. “Not your style, but I’ll accept your surrender.”

You smirked and tugged your white handkerchief out of your pocket, waving it once in a comical manner as a boyish laugh left him. He snatched it up, tucking it in his own pocket as you protested, a smile pulling at your mouth.

“Theres the smile I love.” He teased, and your face fell a bit. He quickly added, “I’m keeping your flag of surrender. Lest I need to remind you of it, later.”

“Insufferable. All you men are insufferable.”

“Too insufferable to dance with?”

“Saints. Fine. Lead the way, Prince Charming.”

Nikolai’s low chuckle jabbed at an emotion inside you that you hadn’t entertained in years, the feeling growing more and more as he took your hand gently in his and moved the two of you onto the dance floor. You danced in peaceful calm for several minutes, then allowed the prince to lead you into the next song, and the next.

He was definitely breaking all sorts of court etiquette rules, especially when the woman he was holding hostage was his fiancée’s sister, but Nikolai didn’t give a shit. You finally weren’t trying to flay him alive and…gods. He’d missed you. Hadn’t wanted to put you in danger years ago when he fled. Hadn’t wanted to take you away from your Grisha, not if your mind changed about practicing and you might very well be what Ravka needed to tear down the fold.

But you were as stubborn as ever, to his delight, and hadn’t let anyone push you around. Not where your own life was concerned.

“He and I, we…” you trailed off after a moment, feeling Nikolai’s grip on you tighten a fraction before you spoke. “I left him. You were right, for once in your life.” Your teasing note fell flat, especially when you looked up at him and found his expression to be torn between what seemed like regret and relief.

“Was I right about more than that?” He asked, his tone also not hitting the part for the joke he was making, and you let out a half-hearted laugh.

“Sure, Nik. All I want is to sneak out of here and tear all your clothes off.” You grinned, but then felt your face warming as the truth of your words was a bit too obvious. But Nikolai either didn’t notice, or didn’t care, because his hand reached up to casually brush a tendril of hair behind your ear.

“I wanted you to come with me.” He said, brow furrowing, and your smile dropped from your face. “Alina isn’t—she isn’t—” his expression changed into one agonized enough for your own heart to ache, especially as his next words cleaved you in half. “I want to marry a Starkov. But not her.”

You stepped back, eyes shuttering as you stared at the prince, at your old friend, at the man who riled you up and made you laugh and pissed you off and—

You couldn’t stay.

You turned and left, not even stopping to say goodbye to Alina before you’d ducked out of the hallway, something in your chest tearing in two at his words. Marry him. Marry him. Alina was going to marry Nikolai, and you couldn’t— A choked sound left your mouth as you ducked into the closest room, slamming the door to an oversized broom closet behind you.

And when the first broken sob pushed past your lips, you sank onto the ground, one hand clutched around the necklace at your throat. It was all a waste of time. The years missing him, the days of sparring with him—wasted time. Not when you could’ve been enjoying his company, rekindling your friendship.

But it might’ve been just that much harder to watch your sister walk down the aisle if you allowed yourself to feel for him again. Especially if the way you felt now, like your world was collapsing, was a preview of that event. So you stayed in the closet, crying until you managed to catch your breath, and then headed to your rooms to bed.

-

Nikolai was sitting on your couch when you entered and you froze, hand stilling on the doorknob as you looked at him. He glanced up, eyes rimmed with red, and smiled weakly at the sight of you.

“My favorite Starkov.” He said by way of greeting, taking in your tear-stained face with an expression of pain. “What is it?”

You couldn’t hold back your words, not when the champagne was going to your head and you’d just wept over him for longer than you’d liked.

“Don’t marry her.” You pleaded, shutting the door and leaning against it. “Please, Nikolai. If you marry her I’ll be stuck with you forever on the sidelines and I can’t handle—” you gasped as a shot of pain ran through you so hard you almost broke, and he stood, stepping over to you in a few easy strides.

“Y/N,” he whispered, clasping your face in his hands. “Please don’t cry. I can’t take it.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Your face crumpled as you looked at him, looked at your friend you cared so much for, and his own expression was just as ruined. “I can’t help but—” You wanted to say it. Love you. But if you told him that truth you’d never be able to go back. Would rather die than admit that and watch him marry Alina. “Nikolai, I can’t—”

“I love you.” He said, almost as if he couldn’t get the words out fast enough, and your heart seized in your chest when he lowered his head and kissed you. Your eyes shut before you could stop yourself, and then you were pushing him away, eyes widening with horror.

“Don’t.” You whispered, pain cleaving you in half. “Please don’t.”

“I do. I love you.”

“Nikolai—”

“From the moment we met. The moment you blinded that asshole of an instructor. The moment you kissed me in that tavern. I haven’t forgotten. Not your spirit or your beauty or—”

“Nikolai.” Your voice was a plead, even as you gripped his coat, holding him close to you. “Nikolai she’s my sister. I cant.”

“She doesn’t love me. Not like you do.”

“I don’t—”

“Please don’t ruin this.” He sighed, planting another dizzying kiss against your mouth. “Please. I cannot imagine my life without you. That is not a life I want to live. I’ll go to my grave before loving anyone else, because you are the only person I could imagine myself loving forever.”

“Nik, I don’t..” your throat tightened as you looked at him, at those handsome features you’d well past memorized. “Ravka is more important. Ravka is more important than how I feel.”

“I don’t care about Ravka. Not more than you.” He practically hissed, blue eyes boring down into yours. “I want you. I’ll give up my crown. Give up everything, just—just love me. Because if I go one more day without you I’m going to lose my mind.” He sighed and pressed his brow against yours, feeling your hands trail up to grasp his neck. “You are my star and my Sun. You are the breeze that touched me when we were apart. You are—”

You cut him off with a crushing kiss, almost knocking him over as you pushed him backwards onto the couch. He gripped your hips and groaned against you when you yanked at his trousers, wanting more contact, more, especially when his hands ran up your bare legs and practically ripped off your underwear.

“Just one night.” You swore, voice hoarse as you looked at him.

“It’s not enough.” He argued, but let out a gravelly moan when you managed to free him from his clothing and sank down on top of him. “Holy—”

But there was absolutely nothing holy about it. Not when you two grasped each other desperately, every inch of you burning as he thrust up inside you, your moans echoing against the walls as you felt him. Saints he was—and the feel of him was—

“Nikolai.” You gasped, burying your face in his neck, especially as he rolled you both over and fucked you against the couch, every gasp and moan pulled from your mouth music to his ears.

“God, I love you.” He whispered against your skin, pushing at your dress to take it off, his hips still rolling against your own. You moaned as he bit down on the skin of your shoulder, then licked the offended area. “Y/N.”

Dear gods.

You could barely breathe as he pushed into you, especially when you came, his fingers rubbing at your clit as he fucked you. But then you were moving, his strong arms carrying you to your bed, and he kissed you over and over as he thrust into you lazily, grinning against your neck when he brought you to orgasm again.

Afterwards, when his mouth was pressing soft kisses against your neck and bare shoulder, you turned to face him. Brown eyes met blue as you took him in, took in the planes of his face and the loving expression in his eyes.

“Do you really love me?” You questioned, combing your fingers through his hair. You were still a bit stunned by his confession, even if it mirrored how you felt, too.

“With every fiber of my being.” He sighed, closing his eyes at your touch. “I will break off the engagement.” Before you could protest he gave you a deadly serious look, eyes never leaving your own. “I refuse to put a ring on anyone else’s hand. I will crawl on my knees for you. I will beg you until we’re old if that’s what you want. But I will marry you, Y/N.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until he brushed away your tears with his hand, leaning forward to kiss your brow.

“So much energy wasted fighting when I could’ve been fucking your lights out every night since I came back.”

You snorted and smacked his shoulder, earning an affectionate grin.

“Go to sleep, Prince Charming.” You murmured, setting against his chest as he looped his arms around you, beckoning you both into a peaceful sleep.

I have no words BYE

#shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov #wattpad #nikolai lantsov x reader #six of crows #shadow and bone imagine #nikolai x reader #fluff #smut #nikolai lantsov smut

[smuttyworks]

Control - Mattheo Riddle smut

Sub!Mattheo as requested! I'm not the best at female Dom but I tried my best lolllll

warnings: explicit smut, yaaa

summary: Mattheo had been fucking with reader for weeks, making jokes about fucking her, flirting with her, and being handsy thinking she would eventually give in to him, but she takes it into her own hands as she waits for him in the darkness of his room.

-

You could feel his eyes on you as they chuckled to themselves behind your desk, causing you to roll your eyes. Mattheo and the other Slytherin idiots have been constantly fucking with you the past few weeks, with Mattheo being the one who did it the most.

You could feel him behind you as he inched closer to your ear, “Let me show you what you’re missing, babe.” You didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting, instead you looked back down at your notes. “You’ll give into me soon.” You could practically hear him smirk as he whispered in your ear.

When class ended you stood up and made your way out of the class and into the corridor, just wanting to get back to your room and study more, but you felt an arm slip around your waist, pulling you close as he directed you down another hallway, “Leave me alone, Riddle.” You said, annoyance clear in your voice.

“Why do you fight me so hard, (Y/n), I know you want me.” he said with his arms caging you in, your back against the wall.

“I don’t want you; you are annoying as fuck and I can’t wait for you to move onto your next unlucky target and leave me alone.” You stated blankly, now ducking under his arms and returning to the corridor and making your way towards your room.

When you finally got there you stripped into your pajamas and pulled your book close as you went over your notes.

After a while your mind started to wander to the annoying brown eyed boy, he always seemed to think he could get whatever he wanted, including girls who always seemed to accept his attention even though he was never interested in them afterwards, his confidence was too high, and someone needed to bring it back down and show him he doesn’t always get what he wants.

And idea popped into your head as your eyes landed on the top drawer of your dresser, and you decided to show him not to fuck with you again.

-

You slipped into his empty dorm room and leaned behind the door, knowing he would be coming in soon.

Your eyes traveled around the dark room that was only slightly lit from the moon shining through the window. His bed wasn’t made, and he had some laundry kicked into a corner, but it was suiting to who occupied the room.

A smirk appeared on you as the doorknob wiggled before opening. You watched Mattheo as he entered the room, walking over to his bed and dropping his bag. “Lumos,” he muttered as he lit the candle on his bedside table.

He turned around as he reached the bottom of his shirt, about to lift it until he noticed you, “Holy fuck!” he said, shock covering his face, “(Y/n) what are you doing here?!” 

You bit your lip as you took a step forward, dropping your robe and exposing your clothes beneath it, or better yet lack of clothes. His lips parted slightly as he took in the red lingerie you wore. “Holy fuck…” he swallowed, taking a step closer and reaching out to touch you, but you slapped his hand away.

“You don’t touch unless you have been told you can.” You stated, emotionless as you watched him closely. His eyes wide in shock, his hands shaky, and the growing bulge in his pants. “Do you understand?” you tilted your head slightly.

He nodded, “Okay.” He gulped

“On your knees Mattheo.” He looked at you strangely, not knowing what exactly was going on. “Now.” You said through gritted teeth.

He didn’t say a word as he dropped to his knees in front of you, his eyes watching your every move. You stood above him and loosely ran your fingers through his brown curls, his eyes closing from the sensation. “You’ve been fucking with me for too long, Mattheo.” You stated softly, your fingers lightly brushing over the skin of his cheek as he took in your touch. “That ends now.”

Your other hand ran down your stomach and over the thin lace material of your panties. Your fingers touching your folds over the fabric as he watched intensely, his tongue wetting his lips as he wanted to taste you so badly.

You moaned out quietly as your fingers pressed down on your clit, “Please let me touch you.” He breathed, his hands in fists on his thighs.

You shook your head, “No.” before slipping your panties down your legs, exposing your soaking heat to him as he groaned at the sight, whispering profanities to himself. “I’m already so wet,” you laughed softly to yourself, dipping your finger into your folds and feeling your arousal soak your finger. You could see Mattheo’s breathing quicken as he watched your fingers touch yourself inches away from his face.

You rubbed your wetness over your clit, moaning softly as you played with yourself. 

He reached out and slid his large hand up the side of your leg and you immediately slapped it away, shaking your head at the desperate boy. “Please,” he pleaded.

“No touching unless told to.” You demanded, and his eyes dropped down to your soaking pussy as he watched desperately. 

You teased your entrance lightly as you lifted your leg up and rested your thigh on his shoulder to give yourself easier access. He groaned out as he watched you slip your fingers into your tight core, slipping them in and out slowly as your arousal dripped down your fingers.

You bit your lip as you removed your soaking fingers, “Open.” You demanded, and his lips parted, ready to taste your delicious juices. You brought your fingers to his lips and he instantly took them in his mouth, his tongue wrapping around your digits as he licked up every bit of you.

You removed them from his mouth and smirked down at him, satisfied with how you had him wrapped around your finger. “Lick my pussy, Mattheo.”

That was all he needed to hear before his lips were attached to you, his tongue flicking softly against your clit, his hand gripped the side of your thigh that was resting on his shoulder to keep you steady and pull you closer to him.

His skillful tongue worked wonders on your cunt as he switched from fucking your entrance with his tongue to circling around your sensitive clit causing you to moan out and grip his hair.

“Don’t stop until I cum all over your face.” You moaned out, loving the feeling of his annoying mouth finally shutting up as he ate you out, licking all your juices desperately.

You didn’t think he would be so good, but your orgasm crept closer and closer, him enjoying all the pleasure he was giving you before slipping his other hand up and sliding two fingers into you, making you cry out at the sensation. “Fuck,” you cried as he brought you closer, the warm feeling filling your abdomen.

He fucked you relentlessly with his long fingers as he sucked your clit, pushing you over the edge and succumbing to your strong orgasm, your cries filling the room as he desperately licked up your juices.

You looked down at him and gave him a smile, “Good boy…” you breathed, “now get up and take your clothes off.” You ordered.

He lifted your leg up softly as you balanced on your shaky legs before standing up in front of you and quickly stripping himself from all of his clothes, leaving him completely naked in front of you, his dick painfully hard.

“You did good, Mattheo.” You smiled at him, lightly caressing his cheek, then dragging your finger tips down his jaw and neck, down his chest and over the hair of his happy trail, taking in how sexy he was, his v lines prominent and leading to his rock hard erection. “You think you deserve a reward?” you questioned, your fingers running over the length of his dick, his eyes fluttering at your soft touch. He quickly nodded and sucked in as you gripped his dick, stroking him at a fast pace, watching his expression as he moaned out, whispering profanities. 

“Can I touch you?” he asked, but it sounded more like begging.

You nodded and his hand gripped your waist tightly and his other hand cupped the side of your jaw, his thumb rubbing lightly against your cheek.

You rubbed the tip of his dick with your other hand as you continuously stroked him, then brought your fingers to your lips, tasting his delicious pre cum, his eyes watching you, his lips parting as he watched you taste him, turning him on even more.

“I’m so close,” he whimpered, his eyes fluttering closed as he felt his orgasm creep close.

You smirked as you pulled your hand away, watching him as he whimpered, begging you to let him cum. “Not until I tell you, Riddle.” His breathing was fast as he watched you desperately, wondering what your next moves were.

You unclasped your bra and let it fall to the floor before backing up into his dresser, lifting yourself onto it and spreading your legs, watching as his eyes dropped to your core, taking in how beautiful you were. “I want you to fuck me, and do not cum until I tell you to.” You ordered and watched as he closed the space between you both, his lips forcedly crashing to yours, and you decided to let him.

Mattheo wasted no time as he positioned himself at your entrance before quickly pushing himself into you, your moans filled his mouth as he gripped your hips tightly, pounding into you relentlessly.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he groaned, cupping your breasts and pinching your nipples between his fingers softly.

Your eyes dropped down to watch as his dick disappeared into your cunt, your juices coating him every time he pulled out. “You like seeing me fuck you?” he cooed, pressing kisses to your jaw tenderly.

“Yes,” you cried, holding onto his arm to keep yourself steady, your second orgasm coming in hot as Mattheo fucked you better than you’d ever been fucked in your life. “I’m gunna cum…” you breathed, holding him tightly as you felt the pleasure wave through your body like shock waves, crying out as his thrusts got sloppy, “Cum, Mattheo,” you whimpered, your body succumbing to your much stronger orgasm, as his hips met yours, his body tensing as he came to his own orgasm.

Both your moans mixing as he filled you with cum as your walls clenched around him tightly.

“Fuck, (Y/n)” he breathed against the crook of your neck, you both taking a moment as you came down from your highs. 

Once you could catch your breath, you pushed him lightly away from and pushing yourself off the dresser, reaching down to collect your robe, wrapping it around you and reaching down for your bra and panties. 

His hand wrapped around yours as he pulled you to him, “I’m sorry for messing with you,” he looked down at you. 

You rolled your eyes, “you can keep these,“ you smirked, placing your panties in his other hand. “Fuck with me again and you’ll never get me again.” Your finger ran down his chest, nail dragging over his skin causing his breath to hitch.

“I promise.” He smiled, then pressing his lips to yours.

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheoriddle #hp smut #Sub!matheo #dom!reader #harry potter fandom #benjamin wadsworth #harry potter smut

[plzfeedmebread]

🍞 i have come to request for jake + breeding 😔🙏make it spicy and soft please

word count: 2900

Pairing: Jake Sully x Female! Navi! Reader Tags/Warnings: smut, nsfw, p in v, swearing, breeding, smooching, a little fluff, R18 - MINORS DNI Author's Notes: Sorry this took so long! I hope it is to your liking :)

SCORCHING

It starts with an itch. A tickle, perhaps, at the back of his throat. Insignificant enough to easily ignore. His hands start sweating more than usual, a general warmth follows him, encasing him. He tells himself it’s fine, Pandora must be going through its version of summer. He becomes a little more worried when his senses become far sharper than before; but strangely, he notices, it is only attuned to you.

The twitch of your tail, a tsk on your tongue, the pop of a joint; every sound you make rings in his ears. Stronger still is the smell. Your scent invades him, controls him. Everything your hands merely glide over, becomes drenched in your scent. He can’t remember ever feeling like this; he feels almost drunk off of it. And God forbid should you be even the slightest bit aroused. One whiff and he’s as good as gone.

That is when he knows something is not right with his person. This level of unbridled arousal is astonishing. If he stares at you for too long, he’s as hard as if you had spent hours teasing him with no release. If he thinks about you for too long, he’s hard. If he smells your intoxicating scent to much, he’s hard. It drives him insane. He can’t control himself, and it frustrates him. He’s sure he’s never been this horny; not even as a teenager. One misstep and he has to excuse himself; desperately pumping his aching cock to your visage.

He’s fucked you every night for the past two weeks. Not that you complain, bless you. Never do you rebuff his advances, always eager to accept his love. It is only after he’s worn himself out in your wet heat that he finally feels some level of reprieve. The relief is so overwhelming, he’s asleep in minutes.

It all comes crashing down on him one morning though. He wakes up late; you left early to join a morning hunt. He would have joined you of course, but he felt far too groggy the night before.

His entire body aches. Every muscle in his body protests even the slowest of movements. He’s drenched in sweat. Jake rolls over to try and be more comfortable, but is immediately assaulted by your lingering scent. His hand is on his cock without a second thought, rough calloused hands bringing him to full attention with little to no effort.

He cums with a desperate moan all over his hand.

But his hand doesn’t stop pumping. He squeezes himself tighter, anything to relieve the burning ache nestled deep within his core. He cums again within minutes. But it does little to alleviate his need. He doesn’t understand; how can he still be hard after that? Fear ripples through him at this sudden unknown state of being.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He hopes you come home soon.

---

The sun is well passed its zenith by the time your party returns to village. It was a successful hunt, and your body aches deliciously with the strenuous activity. You return your ever faithful ikran to her beloved mate’s side. Bob’s excited trills puts a smile on your face, and you watch their cute little greeting with a soft giggle.

You stop at a nearby river to wash away the layer of sweat covering your skin. Not a proper bathing, but will suffice for now. The cool water soothes you, and you dive into its shallow depths for good measure. You do not linger long; wanting to get back to Jake as soon as possible. You hope that whatever illness that plagued him the night prior has since subsided. If not, you’ll be sure to have the Tsahik give him a once over.

You make the climb up to your tree nest. You notice the coverings have not yet been pulled open; the dwelling remains enclosed. Swift and quietly, you pry open one side and make your way in, closing behind you.

---

You're hit by the sudden smell of sex and it catches you off guard, there is a falter in your step. You give everything a quick once over. Your eyes lock onto your mate, still lying right where you left him this morning. He has his back to you, and it looks as though he’s curled in on himself.

Your ears flick forward as you pick up on his laboured breath. His tail flicks annoyedly. In the dim light seeping through the top, you can make out a faint sheen to his back. The stars freckling his body seem brighter than you remember.

Is this…?

“Ma Jake…?” You call for him, his ear flicks to your direction immediately. You move and kneel behind him and place a gentle hand to his shoulder. You pull your hand back almost immediately; he’s scorching hot to the touch.

“Hnnn….” He tries to say your name, but all he manages a pitiful whimper. Tentatively, your hands are on him again and you help him lay on his back.

When you see the state of him, you can’t help the blush that adorns your cheeks and bleeding down your neck.

He’s hard, cock standing at the ready, leaking precum all down the shaft. His abs glisten with the tell-tale sign of spent seed, and you notice a small puddle of release from where he had been laying.

His eyes find yours and without words, he is begging; pleading you for help.

You don’t hesitate, immediately your hand closes around his throbbing member, gripping him as tightly as possible.

He groans deep in the back of his throat, eyes rolling back. You waste no time pumping him with slow, hard thrusts. His hips snap up to meet your downward arch. One hand finds purchase on your thigh, gripping your soft flesh. His other hand goes to his mouth; he bites down hard as if to try and silence the sounds he’s involuntarily making.

You lean down and gently circle the swollen tip of his dick with your tongue. The taste of his prior releases makes your mouth water. Greedily, you take him into your mouth, all the way to the back of your throat.

“Fuck! [Y/N]!”

He cums the moment his dick caresses the soft warmth of your throat; shooting his seed straight down the back. You swallow with practiced ease, letting your throat muscles massage him through his orgasm.

Slowly you lift your head, licking him as he leaves your mouth, cleaning his dick of his cum and your spit.

You’re not surprised when he’s still half hard. But you see clarity has returned to his eyes, somewhat. You touch his cheek with your palm; still hot to the touch. He leans into you, eyes closed, and takes a deep calming breath.

“[Y/N]…What the fuck is wrong with me…? I’ve been horny the whole God damn morning—and it hasn’t fucking stopped…”

He squeezes your hand, seeking reassurance. You wipe the hairs stuck to his brow.

“Oh, muntxatan…I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure if your body was capable of such a thing…”

“What…thing?”

“You’re going through your first rut, ma Jake.”

He stares up at you, brow pinched in confusion.

“Every few months, Na’vi men will go through a period known as a rut. You will become insatiable; your entire world will revolve around mating. The need to breed your mate will become your sole focus. Na’vi women will go through something similar, called a heat. It is when we are, most fertile. Sometimes mated pairs might even have their cycles align with one another. In some cases, when one starts, it triggers the other…”

“Well that’s just fucking perfect…How do I get it to stop…? How long is this gonna last…?”

You suck your teeth, pressing your tongue to your cheek.

“A few days. Maybe even a week.”

Jake groans in frustration.

“Don’t worry ma Jake. I’m here now, I’ll help you through it, yawne.” You lean down and press a soft kiss to the side of his mouth.

He grabs the back of your head and presses you back down to him, kissing you with burning passion. You taste like Heaven on his lips.

You move to straddle him, hands braced upon his chest. As he continues to explore your mouth with his tongue, you slowly start grinding your clothed heat against his hardening member.

You swallow his moan into your mouth, sucking on his tongue.

He's hard almost immediately. The heat radiating off his cock warms your pussy so deliciously, your loin cloth does little to hide your growing arousal. Wetness seeps through, coating him your sweet slickness.

You sit up, wanting to remove the cloth so as to feel him skin to skin.

His hands move to your chest, gently massaging your breasts in each hand. You exhale with a soft hum, the pleasure radiating straight to your loins. His thumbs make soft patterns around your nipples till they perk.

“Jake…” You voice is quiet and breathless as he continues to play with you. His dick twitches when you press your bare cunt to him.

“Please [Y/N]…I need to be inside you so bad it hurts…Please baby,” He begs and moves his hands to your hips, gripping you tightly.

“FUCK--!” His grip on your hips becomes bruising as he cusses loudly. The overwhelming heat and tightness of your pussy causes him to cum immediately.

You smile down at him and nod in understanding. You take him in your hand and lift yourself up, lining him with your center.

Slowly you lower yourself, letting him enter you at an excruciating pace. Once you find the right angle, you let yourself drop, your groin meeting his with a loud slap. You whine at the sudden stretch, a bolt of pleasure pierces through you.

You dare not move, letting him ride his orgasm to focus.

He takes a few calming breathes. You can feel him inside you, hard as ever.

Your eyes meet, and something shifts in his gaze.

Suddenly you’re on back. His hands grab both of your legs behinds the knees as he bends you in half, pushing into you as far as your body will let him.

He starts pounding into you with such force it knocks the air from your lungs. His thrusts are unrelenting, each snap of his hips causing his pelvis to crush against your aching clit, balls slapping against the curve of your ass.

“Ja—Jake~!” You moan his name as you feel your own orgasm approaching without mercy; no doubt the first of many for the night.

“That’s it baby, take my cock like the good little mate that you are.” Tears brim your eyes as the pressure builds and the strain of him folding you in half.

He presses your legs further down with his arms, both his hands cupping your face. His thumbs gently caress the streaks of a few stray tears.

A few more hard thrusts and your cumming around his cock, pleasure exploding from your pussy and spreading down your legs and up your spine. You moan loudly and without restraint as you ride out your orgasm, his dick caressing the spongy centre of your core.

“Fuck yes that’s it [Y/N], cum around my cock. I’m gonna fill you so fucking much baby--!”

One final hard thrust and all movement stops as he spills into you; hot fluid painting your insides.

He barely gives you any time to recover.

Before you know it, he has you flipped into your front. He pulls you both to your knees. He grabs your left arm, bending it behind you securely in his grip. He leans back, forcing you with him, resting your back to his chest. His legs force yours further apart as he pierces you with his dick once more.

Hardened and burning, he fucks you faster than before.

He uses his right hand to spread your folds, exposing your still sensitive clit. His middle finger, coated in your mixed fluids, easily glides over the bud in hurried strokes.

The pleasure is too much too soon, and you can’t help the pathetic whimper that leaves your lips. Tears fall from your eyes from the overwhelming sensation.

“Jake please—it’s too soon! I can’t!” You beg him, and he obliges by moving his hand. He doesn’t stop thrusting.

His hand moves then to wrap around your throat, forcing your head back to rest on his shoulder.

“Yes you can baby, I know you can. Come on give me one more, my good girl,” he whispers in your ear, licking the sensitive appendage.

You whimper, but your mind is becoming a mess. The desire to cum again slowly overriding all else. You move your free hand to play with your nipple, sending jolts of pleasure with each pinch.

As he stares down the planes of your body, your tits bouncing in time with his thrusts, he thinks this is one of his favourite angles in which to bask in your beauty.

The promise of orgasm builds up once more, and you cunt clenches him in anticipation.

“Fuck yes [Y/N], take all my fucking cum baby! Gonna breed you till you can’t even think straight!”

Your walls clench him again at his words and you mewl. He presses a kiss to your check and lets out a breathless chuckle.

“Is that what you want [Y/N]? Wanna be fucked full till I knock you up?”

His hand is on your clit again, and this time you make no move to stop him.

“Yesyesyes! Jake please! Don’t stop! Fuck me more! I want to have your children so bad!”

“Yeah?”

He pushes you down onto your stomach, securing both hands behind your back in one of his own. His other hand holds your head firmly to the floor. He braces himself, using his left leg for leverage on your side.

“Yeeeeees! Jake! Please! Cum in me again! Please!”

Still he pounds into you with reckless abandon. His thrust stretching your aching pussy, the sound of your skin slapping together drowned out by your chocking sobs and moans.

He lets go of your arms to grab at your hips, bringing your cunt back in time with his thrusts.

With a loud throaty growl he’s cumming in you. His hands hold you still, and he rides his pleasure with a few more slow hard thrusts. He’s filled you so much already that it starts to leak from you, dripping down your inner thighs.

His hand moves under you and to your clit, rubbing his spilt seed in fast circles till you’re cumming once again.

“Oh yes, by the Great Mother, YES! JAKE!” Your body shakes as pleasure wracks you. Thankfully he removes his hand when your body tries to jerk away.

He slowly removes himself from you, watching with a satisfied grin as his load spills forth from your abused hole.

“Fuck, [Y/N]…” The sight alone gets him hard again.

He carefully turns you around, laying you on your back. Gently he parts your legs, entering you once more. The slickness of your mixed fluids welcomes him in as he meets no resistance.

He moves one hand behind your back, cradling your head in his hand as he lifts you up slightly.

“The bond.” His voice is low as he asks you to join the two of you together. You grab both your queues and make tsaheylu. Jake curses as your senses invade his. Your hands wrap around his neck, and you pull him down to smash his lips to yours.

You kiss is fervent, nipping at his lips, tongue gliding over his own.

He starts moving again, but this time his pace is slower, his movements more meaningful.

He breaks the kiss to gaze into your eyes. His expression causes a flutter in your heart.

“Nga yawne lu oer,” he whispers, almost too quiet. Your tired eyes beam up at him, and you smile like the luckiest woman on Pandora.

“I love you too, ma Jake.” He returns your smile, quickening his pace, chasing that last orgasm.

“I meant what I said Jake—I want to start a family with you. Please.” Your hands gently play with his hair, massaging the base of his queue. He moans soft at your ministrations.

“Fuck [Y/N], you want me to breed you that badly huh?”

You merely nod, a loving smile adorns your face.

“Alright baby, I got you. I’m gonna full you up till this rut ends. Gonna breed you every. Single. Night.” He times hard thrusts with his last words, cumming in you at the end.

Your walls clench him greedily, still sensitive from before.

He collapses then, careful to lean himself to the side so as to not crush you. His breathing is strenuous, as is yours.

He moves to lay on his side, one arm stretched out. He pulls you with him, making sure his dick is still firmly nestled in your warmth. He pulls your crotch flush with his, draping your leg over his hip.

“Gotta make sure you keep as much as possible in there babe,” he says and presses a kiss to your forehead.

Your arm wraps around his chest, pulling yourself to him, resting your head on his outstretched bicep. His other arm wraps around you, holding you close, his hand rubbing soothing patterns to your back.

“Hey,”

He tucks a hand under your chin, lifting your head to meet his gaze.

“Thank you…It feels like forever since my mind was this clear.” You smile, grabbing his hand and pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

“Of course, ma Jake. You are my mate, my love, my future. I would do anything for you. And know, when it is my turn, I will be far more needy than you.”

His eyes widen at the prospect and it makes you laugh.

“Don’t worry, all will be well, I promise. But you must rest, this moment of reprieve will last for only so long. Tomorrow your body will return with renewed vigour.”

He kisses you then, long enough to steal your breath. It feels almost too soon when he pulls away.

“Then you go to sleep too [Y/N]. Because come tomorrow, I’m not lettin’ you outta my sight. Gonna keep my promise, and breed you till you can’t think straight,” he gives you one teasing thrust, causing you to yip in surprise.

Jake laughs at your reaction, before snuggling his face into your hair. He breathes deep of your scent, letting the warmth of your body pressed to his calm him.

You in turn snuggle yourself into his neck, pressing a soft kiss there.

“I love you, Jake.”

“I love you too baby.”

Sleep takes you, and your dreams are filled with the laughter of children.

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[cozage]

The Daughter's Return Part 3

Chapter 17: The Old Man in the Bar

Start From Beginning | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 2.5k

Marco must have moved you in the night, because you woke up in the bed, tucked under the covers. 

The empty bed. 

“Marco?!” You tried to keep the panic out of your voice when you called for him, the fear of being left again overtaking your rationality. 

“Good morning to you too,” he groaned. Your body relaxed at his voice, grateful he was still with you. 

“When is our meeting with Pops?” you asked, trying to think of how today would play out. It would either result in giving you a chance to save Ace or killing everyone. And their fate was in your hands. 

“After breakfast,” Marco said. You heard him sit up, and he let out a soft sigh as he stretched the sleep out of his muscles. 

“Let’s go eat, then.” You got out of bed and flipped on the light so you could see his room better. 

“Always in a hurry,” he mumbled, but he got up and started getting ready. 

He gave you clothes without you having to ask, which you were thankful for. When the two of you were dressed and Jinx was fed, you grabbed breakfast to go and the two of you went to find your father. 

When your father noticed you and Marco standing in the doorway, he commanded everyone to leave. You got a few nervous glances towards your shackles, but you ignored them. For Ace, you'd wear a thousand shackles if you had to. 

“I’m against you going to Sabaody,” your father started. “For several reasons.”

“I understand.” You kept your voice even, your panic to a minimum. “But you have to understand that we won’t make it to Marineford if we try any other way.”

Your father sighed. “Who is this mechanic? And how do you know him? Why didn’t you and Ace use Blinky like usual the last time you went through?”

“Blinky was sick when we went through,” you explained. “He recommended Shakky’s Rip-off Bar and the mechanic there.”

“Rip-off Bar,” your father laughed. “Quite a name.”

“He does good work.” 

“Fine,” he said, and you were shocked by his immediate willingness to let you go. “The two of you go. The shackles stay on, regardless of who gives you funny looks. Be back by tonight.”

“Thank you!” You said, jumping out of your seat and giving him a tight hug. “Thank you.”

“Be quick about it. Before I change my mind.”

You took off before he said another word. 

“Are you sure this guy can do this?” Marco loaded the boat, skeptical of your confidence. “We have a lot of ships. It’s a tall order to get that done.”

“I’m not sure.” It wasn’t worth it to hide secrets or exaggerate anymore. “But if anyone can, he can.”

At Sabaody, you went straight for Grove 13. You were desperate to get there. A moment away from him was a moment wasted.

“Shakky!” You called, looking around as you entered the bar.

“Where are we?” Marco whispered. “Y/N, this doesn’t-”

“Hey there pretty girl,” Shakky’s smooth voice cut through the air as she emerged from the back. “Weren’t expecting to see you here so soon again. And with a new guy.” Her eyes moved over to Marco, watching him with calculating precision. 

“Is he here?” You asked, trying to peek in the back room. “I have a big job for him, but we’ll pay whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want, huh?” The old man emerged, grinning at you. 

“Anything.”

“You must really want that boy back.”

“Please, Rayleigh.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “How many ships?”

“Sixty.”

Rayleigh let out an impressed whistle. “And you want it done in…?”

“Six days.”

Shakky raised her eyebrow, looking at Rayleigh.

“You know what you’re asking, right kid?”

“I’ll do anything, Rayleigh. Please. He’s-“

“I know who he is.” Rayleigh was shaking his head still. “I’ll do it. But I want to know a few things first. And I want that guy out. Go tell your captain to bring his ships to Grove 13. I’ll keep his daughter as insurance.”

Marco glared at you, but you shook your head. 

“I’ll answer anything you want, Rayleigh. But I can’t leave Marco’s sight while we’re here. It’s the rule.”

The old man adjusted his glasses and chuckled. “Ah, so that’s why you’ve got those cuffs on. Got in trouble, huh?”

You gave him a sheepish grin. “Maybe a little.”

“We’ll, deal doesn’t fly if I don’t get to talk to you privately. Sorry kid.”

“Rayleigh!”

“Stay here,” Marco gritted his teeth, but he knew this was the only chance to save Ace. “If you leave, Y/N. I swear I will-“

“I won’t leave!” You promised. “Rayleigh wouldn’t let me anyway.”

Marco looked at the old man skeptically, but he nodded. “We have your vivre card. If either of you try to pull anything-“

“You’re wasting time,” Rayleigh said, tapping his foot. “Better hurry.”

Marco looked at you one last time, silently begging you to behave. You gave him a nod in agreement, and then he dashed out the door, leaving you alone with Rayleigh and Shakky. 

The moment Marco was gone, you shot a glare at Raleigh. “You never told me you were Silvers Raleigh. The Silvers Raleigh.”

“So?” Rayleigh looked you up and down. “You never told me you were pregnant.”

Your eyes widened, your gaze moving down to your stomach in horror. 

“Relax, girl, you aren’t showing. Not obviously, at least.”

Your arms crossed over your stomach self consciously. “Ace is-“

“The father,” Rayleigh finished. “Yes, I assumed so.”

“Did you know?” You asked. 

“That he’s Roger’s son? Or that you were pregnant last time you were here?” Rayleigh chuckled. “Either way, I had my suspicions.”

“Is that why you wanted to talk to me privately?” You asked. “To confirm all of that?”

“No,” he said. “It was to do this.”

He grabbed the shackles around your wrists and pushed inward. They clicked open, and the shackles fell to the floor. 

“Hey!” You shouted. “I can’t take those off! My dad-“

“Doesn’t want you involved in the battle. But they won’t win unless you’re there. Fighting.” Rayleigh picked up the shackles and handed them back to you. “I hate to say it kid, but you’re a big factor on if they win this or not. I know that ia a lot of pressure to put on you, but something tells me you’re used to it.

“I can’t offer my support during the war that will inevitably happen during Marineford. But I can offer you the ability to make your own choices. And I will coat all of the ships you bring me. As long as you help me do it.”

“Deal.” You clicked the shackles back into place, but you found that you could easily take them off if you knew where to press. Your decisions were finally going to be back in your hands again. 

“Then let’s get to work.”

It was hard work. Raleigh snapped the chains off your shackles so you could move easier, but you still kept them on around your wrists in fear of Marco’s return. 

You had just finished the fourth batch of coating material when ships began to arrive. 

“Y/N!” Your father’s voice boomed across the grove, and you flinched at the rage in his voice. 

“You really have pissed him off,” Rayleigh muttered, laughing at your misfortune. 

“It’s a long story,” you grumbled. 

You could see his giant frame marching toward the bar, Marco leading the way. The first division commander looked nervous. You couldn’t blame him. You hadn’t exactly been the most reliable recently. 

You raced out the door and waved to his small approaching army. “Dad! It’s okay! I’m still-”

“I told you to stay with Marco!” He shouted in rage, his anger increasing when he saw the state of your shackles. “I told you to follow-“

You took a step back in fear, but a hand clasped onto your shoulder and steadied you.  

Rayleigh stood behind you, waving to your family with his free hand. “Sorry about that, Ed! My fault! Had to catch up with your girl, that’s all!”

Your father stopped mid stride, staring at the man behind you in disbelief. 

“Rayleigh?”

The old man smirked. “Long time no see, old man.”

Your father waited a beat, and then burst out into laughter. “You’re the one that can coat the ships?”

Rayleigh smiled deviously and chuckled. “For a price.”

“I’m guessing you’re also the one who broke my daughter’s chains there?”

“She’s been working very hard for me,” Rayleigh said. “Had to make use of some free labor. Couldn’t have her sitting around all day.”

“Ah Rayleigh,” your father wiped a tear from his eye. “It’s good to see you.”

“Don’t get sentimental on me now,” Rayleigh laughed. “We have work to do.”

You never complained. Whenever things felt too hard, you just thought of Ace, sitting in his prison cell. Was he alone, or surrounded by people? Had anyone been to visit him? Surely Garp had. It would be cruel for him not to visit. 

You thought of Luffy as well, and wondered where he was in all of it. Did he even know Ace had been captured? He wasn’t good at keeping up with news events, but you hoped someone in his crew would’ve informed him. 

“Don’t let your mind wander off,” Rayleigh scolded. “I need you present with me or you’ll mess up a batch.”

Every day you had the same routine. In the morning, you fed Jinx and went with Marco for a checkup. Then you went ashore with Rayleigh, and worked for hours at a time to help coat the boats. The two of you fell into a rhythm, and by the third day you had gotten more than 80% of the boats done. 

In the evening, you went over strategy plans. You let your ideas be picked apart by everyone at the table without complaint. Elmy was your biggest critic, but you didn’t let it bother you anymore. If it meant saving Ace, you’d listen to Elmy for the rest of your life.

At night, you fed Jinx again and you all slept together in Marco’s room. You couldn’t bring yourself to sleep in your room without Ace. The bed felt too big, and Marco wouldn’t let you out of his sight overnight anyway. 

You ate at some point during the day, meals that Marco had tailored just for you. But you didn’t taste anything. It was all bland and blended together. But you didn’t complain or argue. 

You were perfect by everyone’s standards. You always did what you were told. Someone gave you a task and you completed it, and then you waited patiently for the next one. 

Everyone was waiting for you to break. They expected you to go off the rails and go rogue. But you kept your composure. Rayleigh had given you one chance to make a move, and you refused to sabotage it. 

By the fifth day, you and Rayleigh had finished the boats. On the sixth day, you got ready to depart from Sabaody. 

“Are you ready?” He asked when the two of you were alone. 

“What if it’s not enough?” You whispered, looking at him with fear in your eyes.

“Did you do the best you could?” he asked. “Will you do the best you can?”

“I did,” you said, looking up at your father’s ship. “I will.”

“That’s all you can do. The rest is up to fate.” Rayleigh grabbed your head and pulled you into his chest. “I hope it is on your side.”

Your bottom lip trembled, and tears threatened to spill out as you hugged him back tightly. “Me too.”

“Regardless,” he said. “It’ll all be over tomorrow. So go. Prepare yourself.” 

“Thank you, Rayleigh.” You hesitated. “Can you do one more thing for me?”

“What now?”

You left Jinx with him, with the promise to return with her true master. Jinx didn’t like the idea, but she seemed to understand, and took to Rayleigh quite nicely. 

Marco had finished up his nightly check up on you and your child when he let out the sigh you knew all too well. The lecture sigh. 

You had been waiting for it. You knew it was coming. He was going to scold you, warn you what would happen if you tried to take part in the battle. He was going to attempt to guilt trip you using every play in the book. 

“If you decide to use your ability, your baby-“

“I know what will happen, Marco.” Your voice came out much more snippy and irritated than you had meant, but you had to get your point across. 

“It’s not just your life you’ll be risking if you leave the ship tomorrow.” He looked up at you, his eyes full of concern. He knew you too well. 

“I won’t leave the ship.” You were careful not to make any promises. “I’ll make any sacrifice necessary.” You methodically put your hand over your stomach, as if you were implying you’d sacrifice anything for your child and their future. 

It was just a show for Marco, though. In reality, you’d make any sacrifice necessary for Ace, not this child. But you hadn’t specified that. Whatever inferences Marco was making was up to him. 

Did you love this child growing inside you? Of course. And you would do almost anything for it. Almost anything. 

Ace, though-you’d sacrifice the world for him. You’d easily sacrifice yourself and this child inside you if it meant he would walk away without being harmed. Loving him was more instinctual than breathing. And you wouldn’t stop fighting until he was free, no matter who was against you. 

But Marco couldn’t know that. He had to believe it was your child that you cared most about now. If he knew it was Ace, they’d kick you off the leading ship; they’d kick you off this whole mission. 

“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” You asked. You had to make baby talk to convince Marco that you were genuinely invested in this baby, but part of you was actually curious. 

“I hope for your sake it’s a girl.” Marco gave a light chuckle. “Can you imagine another Ace running around here?”

You groaned thinking about the possibility. 

“Although another hard head like you won’t be very easy either.” Marco had a playful smile on his face as you shot him a glare, and the two of you burst out laughing. 

“I don’t think it’ll be easy regardless, given their heritage.” You smiled down at your stomach, thinking about it. “A family full of troublemakers. I can’t wait to see who they become.”

And a part of you was truly excited to think about your future child and what they would accomplish. But you had to push it from your mind. You had bigger, more imminent things to focus on. 

War was just over the horizon. You would see Ace soon. You would save Ace soon, no matter the cost.  

You went to bed that night, stomach churning in anticipation. Marco had given you the bed, but you were tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable in any position. 

“Marco?” you whispered into the darkness.

“Hm?” Marco hummed back. It was clear he was still just as awake and alert as you were. 

“Will we win tomorrow?” you asked. “Will this all be worth it?”

“We’ll win.” He was so confident, you almost believed him.

--

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