#but for real ready to play with the shield

[hoodharlow]

Know You Get Sick of the Games 'Cause I Do Too

AN: part 2 🤭 everyone get ready to fight Jack

Requested? No

Warnings: Jack being a dumby, intense kissing, sad Miriam 🥺, and a messy teammate

Word Count: 3.7k words

Miriam twisted her curls into and held them in place with a claw clip. Practice dragged on for what felt like an eternity. She packed up the last of her things and texted her siblings she was on her way. She had a game in a few days in Jersey and the team was staying in New York for the week. She was going to stay with her team in the hotels but they allowed her to stay at her sister's place as long as she wasn't late for any training. 

Beto, her bodyguard for when she traveled to away games, held the door of their rented Range Rover. He closed the door and went to the driver's seat. 

“Can I put on my music?” Miriam asked.

“My rental, my music.” He said playing one of Metro Boomin’s instrumental versions of his albums. 

The drive from Jersey to New York wasn't that long. They arrived to her sister's place and she rushed to change. 

She picked out a pair of black trousers with a burgundy Vivienne Westwood cropped cardigan. She paired the look with her Versace platform boots and her vintage Vivienne Westwood pearl necklace with the gold embellished orb. Her phone pinged as she quickly did her makeup. Then it started to ring. 

Miriam groaned and grabbed her phone. Without looking at who was calling her, she screamed and put it on speaker, going back to her makeup. 

“Jesus,” Jack on the other end yelped. 

Miriam scrambled to pick up her phone. “Ohmygod, I'm so sorry, I thought you were one of my siblings. They were spamming my phone because I lied about where I am.” She said.

“Wait, where are you?” He asked with concern.

“At my sister's place but I told them I was on my way to our go-to Thai place.” Miriam explained as she shoved all her necessities in her heart shaped bag. 

“Oh, you're not free right now? Today is my day off.” He said, casually. 

He was also in New York for work. After his birthday he left for Boston. He was cast in an action thriller movie and they were filming in Boston. Miriam didn't understand the plot he explained to her in one of their three hour long facetime calls, but she found it admirable that he was venturing out into acting. 

“No, but I'm free later if you want to get dinner.” She said, locking her sister's penthouse. 

“Sounds good. Want me to pick you up?” Jack asked. 

“Nah, just text me the place and I'll meet you there.” Miriam said. 

“Okay, I'll see you later.” 

“Bye.” 

Miriam hung up and smiled to herself. It was her first time having real alone time with Jack. He and Miriam have been talking on the phone and texting non-stop since his birthday. Even though she told herself not to catch any feelings, she caught feelings. She couldn't help it. Jack was kind, ambitious, intelligent, compassionate and embarrassingly funny. How could she not develop feelings for him? But a part of her knew better than to act on them. He's never hinted at feeling the same as her and she wasn't going to risk their new friendship for something like her own feelings. 

As she walked out of her sister's place, paparazzi surrounded her. Beto shielded her as best he could while they got in the car. Ever since she started playing for and Racing Louisville, Miriam found herself more and more in the media. Now there was always some new article of her questioning her talent or some random picture someone took over while she was making a Target run. When she's in some major city like LA or New York City, there's a trail of paparazzi. Just yesterday JustJared posted about her adjusting her leggings when she was coming out of practice. 

It was a huge adjustment for Miriam. Growing up her parents kept her and her siblings out of the media. Since she wasn't modeling or acting once she was a teen like her siblings, she was able to stay out of the limelight and have a ‘normal’ life until college. Though the paparazzi only followed her around for a bit because she was hooking up with Shawn Mendes in 2018 and he would visit the Bay Area a lot while he was working on his album. When things ended between them, the paparazzi retreated after realizing that Miriam had a pretty boring schedule and she was actually taking school seriously unlike several nepo babies that wanted the ‘college experience’ at USC. 

While she waited for traffic to clear up, Miriam texted her siblings that she was on her way and they responded that they ate without her. She frowned and texted her dad that they left her to starve. Her dad left her on read but then she got several messages from her siblings calling her a snitch for tattling on them. 

“Beto we're not going. Can you believe the twins ate without me?” She asked him. 

He rounded the corner and opened the door for her. “Yes I can,” he said, guiding her back to the building. “It took you an hour and a half to get ready.” 

“You try making an outfit with a limited closet. I couldn't even steal from Kat because half of them don't fit. Have you seen her patas? They're huge.” She explained as they rode the elevator. 

Beto looked at her amused and remained quiet the rest of the ride to Kat's penthouse. 

Miriam thought about texting Jack, but she didn't want him to think that he was a second option. So she ordered delivery from a cafe a few blocks down. 

When her food came, she ate in her sister's closet, looking for an outfit. Could she just wear what she already had on? Yes but if she had known she was going on a date with Jack she would've packed accordingly. Was it a date? She thought to herself. Panic surged through her body. She placed her sandwich on its plate and looked for her phone. Jack had texted her earlier the address of the restaurant. It was pretty low key but still had a business casual dress code. 

Miriam paced around the closet. She always overdressed. But this time she didn't want to over dress and give Jack the wrong idea. Or for him to think it was something more when it wasn't. They were just two friends grabbing dinner and nothing more. 

*

Jack looked around to see if the coast was clear as they walked out of the restaurant. He and Miriam went to a hole in the wall Italian restaurant for dinner. Jack motioned Miriam to come out since there were no paps. Miriam linked her elbow with his as they walked the busy street. 

She instantly regretted not staying in the black trousers she wore earlier. She held on to Jack tighter, praying that his hotel was close by. They didn't want to end their evening just yet. It was still pretty early so they were going back to the hotel to watch some movies. 

“Cold?” He asked her. 

“A bit, but I'll survive.” She reassured him. 

They past a shop and it immediately caught Miriam’s attention. She steered her and Jack back. 

She gasped, “I haven't had Magnolia's in forever. They have the best banana pudding and I hate banana flavor anything. Their chocolate icebox cake is to die for.” 

She pulled her arm away from his and practically ran inside the bakery. Jack followed after her. He found her bending over the glass display looking at the rows of desserts. He silently groaned seeing her skirt ride up. And he was most definitely not thinking of pushing her skirt up to her hips and fucking her from behind. 

Miriam had made it abundantly clear that she only wants to be friends. Jack wasn't going to risk the good friendship they have to fulfill his needs. No matter what. He was going to be respectful of what she wanted. 

“Hold on,” Miriam told the cashier, bringing Jack back to reality. 

She took several things out of her bag. Jack figured she was looking for her wallet, so he got his out.

“Here,” he told the cashier, handing them his card. 

“Wait, no.” Miriam tried to argue as he shoved everything back in her bag. 

“It's fine.” He took her hand and led her to the back corner. 

“You paid for dinner and it was pretty expensive.” She pointed out. 

“Are you implying that I'm broke?” He asked in an amused tone.

“No, it's that…” she couldn't find the words to explain herself. 

“You're easy to mess with.” He laughed.

“Did you just call me easy?” She gasped dramatically. “At least buy me dinner first.” 

“I already did.” He smirked, not breaking eye contact. 

Before Miriam could reply one of the workers called her name. She walked over and thanked them when they handed her her order. She also dropped a few hundred dollar bills in the tip jar. She nodded at Jack to follow her out to a table outside. 

“You're about to have a mouth-gasm.” She said, pulling out a tub of banana pudding. 

“Respectfully, I'm from Kentucky. Banana pudding and icebox cakes are delicacies over there. I doubt they compare to what we have back home.” He said.

“Whatever, hater.” Miriam rolled her eyes. She took a spoonful of banana pudding and ate it. She moaned and did a little dance. “You're missing out.” 

Jack rolled his eyes in response. 

With that they continued walking to the hotel. The doorman opened the door for them and greeted them. Jack guided Miriam through the back hall, away from the small convenience shop and restaurant-bar where they could be seen and filmed. 

Miriam continued eating her pudding as they rode the elevator to Jack's floor.  She didn't finish it so she put it back in its paper bag. She felt Jack eyeing her when they walked down the hall to his suite. 

“What?” She asked. 

“You have pudding on your face.” He tapped the corner of his mouth. 

“Shit.” She mumbled, wiping the opposite side that Jack pointed to. 

“Here, I got it.”

He took a step closer and cradled her face. He swiped her cheek with his thumb and without breaking eye contact he licked it.

“Not bad,” he commented on the pudding. “Nothing beats–”

Miriam cut him off. She pulled his down to her level and claimed his lips. It took Jack a second to process what was happening, but he kissed her back with full force. He grabbed her hips and backed her into the door of his hotel room. He wedged one of his legs in between hers and let her slowly rub herself against his dark cargo pants. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as his hands rested on her ass. They slowly devoured each other, bodies melting into each other.  

The door opened abruptly. Miriam nearly fell back, but Jack caught her. He spun her and pulled her to his side. They were face to face with Urban. 

“Oh it's y'all, I thought it was room service.” He told them as they entered the room. 

“Nope just us.” Miriam smiled innocently. She held up her paper bag. “Is it okay if I put this in the fridge?” 

“Go ahead. The kitchenette is down the hall.” Urban answered for Jack.

“Thanks.” She nodded, making her way over. 

Urban to Jack with a knowing smirk. 

“Don't.” Jack warned him in a hush tone. 

“Hey, I'm not the one dry humping my idol's daughter in the middle of a hotel hallway.” Urban whispered back. 

“It wasn't like that.” He argued. “Now shut up Miriam's coming.” 

“I bet she is.” His best friend mumbled.

“Can I use your restroom?” She asked them. 

“My room has an ensuite bathroom. It's down the hall.” Jack told her. 

“Cool, thanks.” She nodded.

Urban walked to the small living room. One of the couches there was a CVS bag. He dug through it and pulled out a box of condoms. 

“You're going to need these more than I will.” He said, not being able to keep a straight face.

“You're a fucking ass. We won't need any.” Jack said defensively. 

“You better not hit it raw.” Urban put his hands on his hips. “You can get her pregnant and ruin her career. The US women's team is having trials for the next few months for their world cup.”

Jack sighed. “We won't need any because we're not having sex.” 

Urban placed the box on the table behind the couch where he was watching some action rom-com. “I'll leave them here just in case. Just let me know so I can have my soundproof headphones on deck.”

Jack flipped him off and went to his room. Miriam was leaning against the desk typing furiously, so he went to sit on the edge of the bed. She sensed his presence and put her phone down on the desk. 

“Sorry, my friend Shawn is in town and he wanted to know if I could record some back up vocals for him tomorrow.” she said, walking to him. 

“So…” He trailed off.

“I was looking at the movie list and they have Ready or Not showing in one of the channels if you want to watch that.” Miriam suggested. 

She was not going to bring up the kiss. She was embarrassed that his best friend almost caught them and it would be best if she avoided it unless Jack brought it up. Then she would be more than happy to admit that the kiss caused her soack through her panties.  

“Yeah, that's fine. Help yourself to anything in the mini fridge.” Jack nodded to the mini fridge as he kicked off his shoes. 

Miriam nodded, but she didn’t take anything. She sat on the other side of the bed and took off her white calf-length MiuMiu boots. She sat a bit closer to Jack but not too close. He passed her the remote and she put in the channel for the movie. 

The opening credits were barely beginning, so they hadn't missed much. As the movie progressed Jack and Miriam moved closer and closer to each other. They whispered among themselves their reactions to the movies. Miriam loved a gory movie but Ready or Not had real effects and it wasn't GCI like other movies. So when the families started exploding one by one she hugged Jack's arm and hid her face. She draped her legs over his lap. Jack held onto her knee as he flinched. The final credits rolled and they were still huddled together. 

“Man, that was fucking insane.” Jack chuckled.

“I love that movie. It's such a fun movie. Plus Adam Brody is a plus. He really solidified my type in men.” Miriam said. 

“Yeah, what's your type?” He asked out of curiosity. 

“I like them funny.” She shrugged, maintaining eye contact with him as she sat on her knees. 

“What else?” He leaned a bit closer. 

“Having brown curly hair is a plus.” She added.

Jack hummed in response. He held her cheek and brought her closer to him, closing the space between them. Unlike the kiss in the hallway. This one was slow and carnal. Miriam climbed Jack's lap and deepened their kiss. He gripped her hips and guided them on his crotch. His hands wandered down to her ass and he pushed her skirt up to her waist, getting a better grasp on her ass.

Miriam pulled back and took off her top, staying in a simple t-shirt bra from Aerie. She kissed Jack a few times then unfastened it from the front. She let it fall off her shoulders. She leaned forward to kiss Jack once more but he put his hand in between them.

“This is a mistake.” He said. 

Miriam's stomach dropped. “Oh.”

She scrambled off his lap and began grabbing her things. She haphazardly put on her bra and rushed out of his room, pushing past Urban as she rushed out of the suite. 

“Wait, Miriam.” Jack called after her. 

“Don't.” She said, wiping tears off her cheeks.

She pressed the elevator button, praying that it opened before Jack got to her. Jack tried to reach for her arm but she pushed his hand away. 

“Don't fucking touch me.” She sneered. 

He took a step back with his hands up in surrender. The elevator opened and she slid inside. As it closed she lifted her middle finger at him. 

•••

@'justjared: Canadian pop star Shawn Mendes and Racing Louisville FC's brand new soccer player, the daughter of actress Isabela Miller and retired soccer player, Miriam Dominguez-Miller were spotted out and bought in New Jersey leaving Ciao Ristorante. The pair have been formerly linked in 2018 and were spotted galavanting all over the globe. They haven't been seen together since early 2019. The 24 year old soccer player has been formerly linked to NBA player Kaleob Young and singer Kehlani. Click in the 🔗 for more.

•••

When Miriam said her friend Shawn wanted her to do backup vocals, she was apparently talking about Shawn Mendes. Jack was not one to lurk, but after seeing the paparazzi pictures of Miriam and Shawn, he got curious and read any article about them that he could find. He mainly found some paparazzi pictures from 2018 and articles of wondering who Miriam was before some gossip pages wrote about how she was the forgotten child of Mateo and Isabela. 

“Dude, you gotta let it go. You did it to yourself.” Urban said, taking Jack's phone. “Now pay attention to the game.” 

They were at the Red Bull Arena watching Racing Louisville play against NJ/NY Gotham FC. Miriam didn't start but in the second half she was swapped in. She was on the field for five minutes and already had grass stains all over her uniform. Jack averted his eyes away from her ass and tried not to think about how two nights before he was squeezing over his dick. 

He felt like shit. He didn't mean to say that it was a mistake but his mouth was faster than his brain. What he really meant was that he didn't want to have sex with Urban in the other room. Not because Urban would blab or anything, but he wanted Miriam all to himself. He wanted to be the only one to hear how she would come undone when he ate her out or how she would sound saying his name after three rounds. Jack cursed feeling his pants tighten around his crotch. He shifted in his seat and tried to pay attention to the game. 

Racing Louisville won 1-0. Miriam had scored, surprising no one. What did get the crowd going was that she did the Dominating-Dominguez. A special move named after her dad that very few players could do. Messi tried once for shits and giggles but cramped up. 

Jack tried looking for Miriam because she wouldn't answer his calls and left on-read. But fans kept approaching him for pictures. Security came and cleared up the area so Jack could leave. He saw Miriam on her phone with her siblings as he and Urban walked through the private hallway. He was about to approach her when Shawn Mendes swooped in. 

“That didn't take long.” Larissa said from behind Jack. 

“Hey,” he gave her a side hug, “I didn't see you in the field.” 

“I rolled my ankle during conditioning.” She said.

“I'm sorry to hear that.” Jack said. 

“Yeah, but that was yesterday's news. The real breaking news is Miriam and Shawn getting back together.” She said leaning against the wall. 

“Back together?” He asked curiously. 

“Yeah, they dated for almost a year. But Shawn dumped her ass for the whole PR thing with my girl Camila Cabello. Miriam was so devastated. I genuinely thought she was going to quit school and soccer but she went to Princeton for some summer program and came back good as new. Apparently they've been talking so I'm glad they're trying again. They make a cute couple, no?” Larissa asked. 

“I guess.” He shrugged. 

He watched as Shawn gave Miriam a bear hug then gave her siblings side hugs. Miriam then bid her siblings goodbye and approached Larissa. 

“Hey.” She smiled at them. 

Urban was closest to her so she hugged him first. She hesitated on how to greet Jack, but she decided to just go for the hug. He gave her a once over and walked away, nodding at Urban to follow him.

“Good game.” Urban said, giving Miriam a soft smile. 

“Bye, Urban.” She returned the smile. 

Urban jogged after Jack. Miriam couldn't hear what they bickered about, but she did hear that loud smack Urban gave Jack in the back of his neck. 

“That was weird.” Larissa commented.

“I wouldn't know, you've known them longer.” Miriam shrugged. 

“So tell me about Shawn.” She nudged Miriam's shoulder as they walked toward their sprinter van. 

“What's there to talk about? I met up with him at the studio and recorded two demos. We went to lunch with his team and got papped.” Miriam shrugged. 

“I thought you guys were getting back together.” She said.

Miriam made a face. “Oh god no. Plus what we had back then was nothing mote than friends with benefits, remember? He's a good collaborator. If I wanted to get into music, I'd hit him up.” 

“Must be nice to have mommy and daddy pay for my things so I can make as many career choices as I want.” Larissa said sarcastically. 

“I mean yeah, but who said I was? I'm just saying if. I have no actual plans. I'm committed to soccer.” Miriam frowned. 

“I know I'm just playing.” She laughed, pushing Miriam's shoulder. 

Miriam rolled her eyes and sat behind her. She pulled out her journal and her headphones. Teddy, Shawn's producer and songwriter, passed her some beats for her to use when they finished the studio session. She always encouraged Miriam to try out singing, but Miriam always said no. 

She had a lot riding on her shoulders. She wanted to continue her dad's legacy. He's not pressuring her to do so, but she was the only one out of her siblings that wanted to play. The twins followed their mom's footsteps going into acting and modeling. She didn't want to throw off any balance by just pursuing music. 

Miriam looked down at the new entry in her journal. ‘Platonik’ was scribbled at the top in her loopy writing.  She crossed it off and shoved her journal deep in her backpack. 

Soccer was her main focus. Nothing and no one was going to get in her way. Not even some Kentucky born rapper that she wished she hadn't caught feelings for. 

#jack harlow #jack and miriam #jack and miriam: soccer edition #jack harlow smut #Jack harlow angst #jack harlow fanfic #Jack harlow imagine #jack harlow oneshot

[neopuppy]

Cookie Jar (M)

pairing. Jeno x female reader x Jaemin

genre. stuck in a dryer AU(because why not), meany step-brothers Jaemin/Jeno, pwop(and yet a plot twist), crack if you squint, M/F

warnings. dubcon(don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable. thanks.), stepcest, profanity, smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.

wc. 7000

now playing. Cookie Jar//Doja Cat

smut warnings. baby oil, pet names, threesome, unprotected vaginal sex, double penetration(one hole), degradation/praise

“God damn, your step-brothers are so hot.” Your friend says, sucking a hissed breath between her teeth. “I’d do anything to get stuck between those two.”

“You’re sick,” you mutter, slapping her oiled up shoulder, warmed and glistening under the last days of summer sun. “They’re my brothers.”

“Step-brothers.” She shrugs, continuing to eye the two dunking each other underwater with headlocks. “Come on, that’s like… universally a big turn on.”

“Yeah, well not to me.” You say, rolling your eyes before returning to watch the commotion in the pool travel closer, splashing too close to where you lay. “You wouldn’t think they’re so hot if you had to live with them like I do.”

“Believe me, I definitely would.” She sighs, dragging one of the legs of her sunglasses between the seam of her lips. “Don’t know how you resist, I swear they get bigger and buffer every time they visit.”

Now that is true, you silently agree, shielding your eyes from the sun to take in a better look.

“Jaemin’s so broad,” she continues, nibbling at her glasses. “And Jeno’s so lean.. nothing but muscle on him. I bet they get real rough.”

“You need to get laid.” You mumble, focused on the way Jeno’s veins ripple with each squeeze around Jaemin’s neck. The two red in the face from rough-housing for the last hour. “And not by one of my brothers.”

She whines, pouting and sticking out her tongue. “You’re no fun, if you’re not gonna allow me to do it… one of us should.”

Her eyebrows wiggle suggestively, leaning back and fanning herself as they begin to exit the pool. Jeno smiles, eyes more squinted with the sun beating down on his face and tight sculpted chest. “Hey, we’re going to head inside. You want anything?”

The dreamy sigh your friend let’s out doesn’t go unnoticed, whether it be from Jeno’s charm or Jaemin’s perfected way of continuing to not acknowledge your existence; too busy patting his flat smooth stomach dry. It’s all a show of course, he knows he looks too damn good.

“I’m okay, thanks Jeno.”

He nods, throwing an arm around his brother's shoulder to continue their playful match as they pass through the sliding doors back into your house.

“He’s so cute,” your friend continues to fawn over the two, squealing that you must have been a saint in a past life to have ended up in such a lucky situation.

“It’s not luck.” You disagree, shushing her. “Anyway enough of this, I have a date to get ready for tonight, the last thing on my mind is Jeno or Jaemin.”

She sighs, shoulders slumping as she lays back. “Meanwhile, I’ll be home dreaming about your step-brothers railing me into the next universe.”

Yeah, in your dreams they’ve had their way with you once or twice.. maybe more than a couple handful of times. It doesn’t help that neither of them has ever attempted to be discreet about their sexual conquests when they’re home. It’s the main reason you can’t even stare at a phallic shaped object for too long without venturing into lewd thoughts of your step-brothers acting out their usual horny himbo behavior with you.

The headache you currently have for example is all Jaemin’s fault, keeping you up into the late AM hours with two sluts screaming from his bedroom akin to something straight out of a horror film. That’s how you found your way to the kitchen to distract your mind from the deeper throaty moans between their banshee-like cries. Maybe water would quench the thirst closing up your throat, but how to stop the aching heat between your thighs..

“What’re you doing up?” His groggy voice emerged, feet patting their way across kitchen tile toward the open fridge you’ve been standing in front of for a minute now contemplating if you should make a sandwich or not.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you sneer, side-eyeing him with a mean look. Your step-brother's afterglow has his eyes dropping at the corners, smiling lazily as he reaches past you for two water bottles.

“Try counting sheep?” He doesn’t even acknowledge you with a glance, moving to sit at the kitchen island and chug down one of the waters. Not even bothering to pull on a shirt before coming down, because why would you question the bright red and pink scratches lining his upper back. It’s dim enough to make it weird if you mention it, too observant on your part.

“I don’t think that will help.” You say, rolling your eyes and shifting down to the cabinet filled with snacks. “Too much noise, not even sheep can drown that out.”

“Hmm,” Jaemin hums, fixing his messy hair still sweaty at the roots. “That’s weird, I never hear anything.”

“You wouldn’t, would you?”

The sound of a chair scrapes across the tile, feet patting toward the same way he came in from but coming to a stop too close, right behind you.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He whispers, hovering near the back of your ear. “Am I doing something to keep you up at night?”

Jaemin knows you hear everything with your bedroom being right in-between his and Jeno’s. Only a wall apart from the debauchery taking place mere feet away from you. “You’ve never complained before..” he reaches for your hair, tossling it behind you and gathering most down the center of your back.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Hmm, sounds to me like you’re eavesdropping?” You can pick up a smirk in his tone, shivering down your spine as his palm weighs down on your shoulder. “Don’t tell me my sweet innocent little sister is a pervert? What would your father think.”

He presses closer, reaching out in front of you to grab a protein bar, groin rocking against your backside as he leans up to reach for it above both of your heads. “It’s—it’s not that.” You bite down on your lip, eyes squeezing shut to push away the thought of just how thick he feels pressed against your ass. The shape of his length prominent and hot, half-hard where he digs into you.

“Then what is it?” Jaemin grunts, pushing down on your shoulder heavier for leverage to reach higher, lightly grazing the bar with the tips of his fingers. “What’s keeping you up?”

“Neighbors.. neighbors dog.” You lie, shaking away the memories of high-pitched moans and screams buried into pillows. “Barks a lot, near my window.”

Jaemin tsks, successfully pulling down the snack he’s been reaching for but not without aligning the dip between your ass with his growing size. “What a pesky dog.” He leans forward, lips brushing your ear. “Maybe you need some new headphones, I’ll buy you some this weekend. Can’t have my baby sis losing out on precious sleep.”

With one last dig of his hips against yours, he grins, patting the top of your head. “Get some sleep baby.”

You had to grip onto the end of the cabinet to keep your knees from failing you, dropping your head down to suppress a whimper. Jaemin’s so mean, so fucking mean for what? Maybe you are a pervert though, secretly lusting after not just one—but both of your step-siblings. God your parents would ship you off to boarding school if they knew you couldn’t catch a wink of sleep after that.

No, not with your ear pressed up against the wall trying to mute every sound that couldn’t have come from one of the main characters of your daily fantasies. Between having both Jaemin and Jeno back home for summer, you haven’t seen a day of peace.

Your friend was right, maybe she needs to get laid, but more than anything you need to be fucked. Fucked hard enough for your soul to leave your body and make a trip to heaven and back.

That explains the deep set bags under your eyes today, hidden under the sunglasses that also do a great job of masking your lack of ability to take in each wet rippling muscle lining Jeno’s stomach, or Jaemin’s thick biceps flexing and gripping around his neck.

A defeated sigh solidifies your decision to get in a quick nap before it’s time to get ready for your date tonight. You won’t be of much use for another man if you’re still stuck in a horny whirlwind fantasy anyway.

What was that Jaemin said to you last night? Count sheep?

One. Two. Three..

“Where are you going?”

Jeno’s sitting on top of the dryer mindlessly scrolling through his phone, double-taking at the sound of you entering the laundry room; his eyes nearly falling out of their sockets at the length of your skirt.

“Out.” You say, squatting a bit to sort through your clean basket of clothes. “Have you seen my favorite bra?”

Jeno jumps off the machine, head ducking lower, catching a glimpse of sheer lace baby pink between your thighs. “What?”

“My bra,” you stand, cupping around your chest. “It’s light pink, floral trimming, the cups are see-through.”

He gapes, mouth going dry taking in the rest of your appearance. “Where are you going?”

“Hello, earth to Jeno!” Waving around, you reach out to flick his forehead, wrist caught mid-air before you reach. “I asked you a question!”

He scoffs, tugging you closer. “Why would I have your bra?! Are you not wearing it?” The realization has Jeno pulling you arm up to better stare at your chest, a faint shadow of nipple peeks through the cotton material hugging your breasts.

“What the hell are you wearing?!” He’s flabbergasted, scanning up and down your figure and shaking his head in disapproval. “You can’t go out like this.”

Pulling free from his hold you roll your eyes, returning to the basket of fresh laundry in search of your undergarments. “You don’t like it?”

Jeno pauses, mouth opening and shutting again, lips pouting out. He definitely likes it, but you shouldn’t be out in public revealing this much of your body to anyone.. it’s different at home; no one other than him and Jaemin to see you prance around in oversized t-shirts barely hitting beneath your ass. Not that they’ve ever wondered what would happen if you bent down to pick something up in front of them, not that they’ve ever caught themselves turning their heads toward the stairs in unison when you come skipping down, bouncing away.

“You look..” Jeno hums, taking too long to admire the smooth backs of your thighs leading up to the plump roundness your skirts doing a poor job of hiding. “..it’s just.. would your dad let you wear that out??”

Snorting, you stand up to glare at him with your hands on your hips, head cocked to the side. “He’s not here to stop me, is he?”

“No but he asked us to watch over you, I don’t think your dad would like it if he knew I let you leave the house looking like..”

“Like what?” You snap back, stepping forward to get in his face.

“Like..”

“Go on.”

“Like a common street whore.” Jeno straightens out, clearing his throat, chin tilted in to appear serious. “Walking around like you’re asking for it.”

Smiling, you poke at his chest, your step-brother’s resolve crumbling as you softly laugh. “Maybe I am.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?!” Jeno groans, shaking his head again. “I can’t let you go out like that, I won’t allow it.”

“Oh you won’t allow it? Do you think you’re my daddy?” You ask, taunting him further with another prod at his chest; mascara heavily coated eyelashes batting mischievously.

Jeno swallows, biting at the sides of his tongue, annoyed and aroused by everything. The way you’re dressed, the way you keep touching him, the silky tone you say that word in.

“Where exactly do you need to go dressed like that?” He repeats, the sound of the dryer cycle coming to an end clearing his foggy mind for a moment.

Sighing, you roll your eyes, adjusting the loose bolero cashmere slipping from your shoulders. “The new neighbor invited me over for dinner and a movie, we’re not going out. He’s gonna cook me a nice American meal because I mentioned how much I miss it back home when we met.”

Jeno’s eyes dart back and forth in thought, a light bulb coming to life behind them. “THE AMERICAN GUY? THAT GROWN ASS MAN?!”

“He’s 28!”

“Exactly!” His demeanor changes drastically, arms flailing angrily. “Oh you are not going out to see him dressed like that! In fact! You aren’t going anywhere near that creep!”

“He’s not a creep! God Jeno.” Shoving past him you continue muttering about how he needs to calm down, you don’t need to take orders from him or anyone. “I’m an adult.”

“He’s way too old for you.” Jeno paces behind you, too frustrated to notice you’ve begun to pull out his dry laundry, sorting through it in search of your bra. “I’m gonna have to call your dad.”

“Jeno! Do not!” You snap again, letting out an annoyed huff. “I never snitch on you and Jaemin all the nights you sneak out and bring back girls to fuck!”

Jeno gapes again, moving to stand by your side and snatch his boxers before you grab them. “We don’t do that!”

“Oh you don’t? I must have imagined those girly moans coming from your bedrooms screaming oh yes! Daddy please! Rip my ass apart! Your cocks so fucking big!” You slap down on the dryer moaning out, arching forward pressing your breast against the machine, eyes rolling up sarcastically. “Ugh yes daddy! Cum on my ass!”

Jeno gulps, eyebrows twisting together as his cock jumps inside the confines of his jeans, gnawing at his bottom lip to contain an anguished groan. “That’s..”

“Piece of shit dryer,” you curse, bending down to reach further inside, the strap of your bra meeting your fingers. “I swear if this thing ate my bra!”

Jeno runs his hands through his hair, tugging at chunks trying to regain his composure. The position you’ve dropped to on your knees, ass shimmying in the air further pushing him to his limit not helping one bit.

There’s no way he can let you leave this house dressed like this, no way he can let that pervert down the street take advantage of his little innocent step-sister, no way he can let anyone ruin you other than him.

His hand trembles inches away from your backside, soft supple skin fully exposed just aching to be slapped, marked up and bruised by his hands.

“Jeno! Help me!” You whine, shaking and kicking out your feet annoyed. “I think I’m stuck!”

Oh fuck.

“Wh-what..” Jeno’s eyes travel around quickly, ending back on your ass wiggling around in a weak attempt to free yourself from the machine you’ve gotten stuck inside of. “W-what… quit fucking around.”

“I’m not! I’m stuck, Jeno! You have to get me out!” Your sad excuse of a skirt flares up as you start to kick, ankles knocking together the more you whine and yell at him. “I can’t believe this!”

Me either, Jeno thinks, swallowing a thick wad of saliva to coat his throat. “This has to be a joke, you’re…you’re trying to..” he pauses, mewling over what exactly it is you’re doing to him. On your knees, ass rippling under your cute little panties, back arched low in this much too perfect position.

“I’m not joking! Jeno I’m really stuck! I think my sweater got caught in the machine!” Your whiney high-pitched tone doesn’t help Jeno’s growing problem twitching against his inner thigh.

“What am I supposed to do?! Break the fucking dryer?!” Jeno splutters, forcing himself to look away and draw in shallow breaths.

SHE’S YOUR SISTER.

SHE’S YOUR SISTER.

SHE’S YOUR SISTER.

The chant shouting in his head gets interrupted by the devil on his shoulder, speaking in an oddly similar tone he’s more than familiar with. ‘She’s just our step-sister Jeno, it’s not a crime.’

That’s what Jaemin’s always said whenever they’ve drank a little too much and toyed with the idea of hooking up with you. ‘Believe me, I’m gonna fuck her at some point, you know I can’t keep it in my pants this long.’

Jaemin had a point, but even then Jeno can’t deny the guilt he feels as his gaze retreats back to your ample backside, arched out pathetically, fully pushing your plump folds out against the thin layer of underwear leaving nothing to his imagination.

“Do something!” You shout, near tears from the dryer's heat sweating your makeup off. All this effort to look pretty for Johnny only for it to be completely wasted over this stupid damn bra. This is all Jeno’s fault! He never even clears out the lint before throwing his clothes in!

“Okay okay!” The existential crisis your step-brother’s going through fails to transcend through his response, even if he’s fully messed up his hair style by ripping at tufts while pacing behind you. “What if.. I can try to pull you out?”

“Hurry! It’s so hot in here! I’m melting!”

Could you be more dramatic? He wants to scoff, rolling his eyes as he drops down to his knees and his hands hover over your hips. “I’m going to try and reach in, alright?”

“God damnit Jeno! Fucking hurry up!” You screech, feet stomping against the ground between his thighs.

“Oh shit,” Jeno presses in closer to avoid your heels colliding with his sack, eyes going wide upon contact with your core, all warm and damp where his lower stomach meets the forbidden area between your thighs. “Fuck.”

He has to catch his breath again, sliding his hands through the space left at your sides. He definitely could avoid touching you given the amount of space, but that doesn’t stop him from smoothing up your hips and waist, squeezing his way up as he bends closer with his chin resting atop the dryer. The new angle aligns his hips with yours, his now fully hard length digging into your thigh the more he leans his body in to lock under your armpits and pull your shoulders back. “Come on, work with me here.”

“That hurts! It’s my sweater Jeno! My sleeves wrapped up in the machine, I can’t get it out!” He can feel you tug, shifting back further into his groin the more you attempt to move and release your arm from the uncomfortable position you’re trapped in.

“Sorry sorry..” he gasps, unable to stop himself from rocking forward against your warmth. “Should I try to take your top off?” Shaking his head in disbelief, he circles against your ass, biting down on his teeth to suppress a groan when his length slots between your folds. Even with the material of your clothes keeping you apart, the idea alone of having you so vulnerable to his ministrations is more than enough. High alone off how unsuspecting his every calculated move is, because why would your big brother take advantage of you like this? Jeno would never, he loves you too much.

“Ughh…” you whine, head drooping with sweat pouring down your face faster than a river flow. “This is so stupid!” You cry, shimmying back again, too exhausted to pick up on the hard shaped rod pressed flush to your core.

“I’m so tired..” blinking slowly, you wonder how stupid it may be to call up 911 for this.

‘Hey my step-sister got stuck in a dryer trying to find a bra. Can you make it fast? She’s supposed to have a hot date tonight with this sexy American beef cake that lives down the street.’

Because that’s something that could only ever happen to you. Public humiliation that would only draw attention to your house with a blaring fire truck uselessly parked outside only to decide that the jaws of life would be necessary to free you from this comedic porn scenario mess of a situation you’ve landed yourself in.

“I’m doing my best baby.” Jeno soothes, maneuvering his hands to your back in search of a bra clasp to release. Oh right.. hard nipples, no bra. The entire reason you’re stuck to begin with. “I’m going to take your top off, okay?”

No bra, that should make this easier, he gulps, untying the halter strings connected at the back of your neck. “Maybe if we can get you out of this..” he tries to imagine your tortured cute face, tear stricken the longer you suffer in there. The image of your distress only makes his cock jump, rutting harder against your ass.

“Fuck, I can’t do this.” He whispers quietly to himself, too caught up in his own form of torture. What are the chances of pulling you out, tits bouncing freely as you fall back and land ass first onto the seat of his lap. Jeno nods to himself, pulling your top lower until he can sense the release of your breasts, likely resting against the still warm metal insides of the dryer.

“Try to pull your arms free now baby.”

Maybe it’s due to your exhaustion, lazily pushing back only to be met with your step-brother’s hips and a low groan. “I can’t Jeno, I can’t anymore.” You sob, pathetically dropping flat with your arm strung up still locked in place.

“I’m going to have to cut your sweater.” He thinks fast, glancing around quickly before noticing you’re no longer alone.

“Jaemin?!”

“Jaemin!” You shout, shocked by the mention of your other brother. “Huh?!”

An amused laugh traces up your back, followed by a round of applause and feet shuffling forward. “No no, keep it going Jeno.”

He leans against the washer, smirking to one side. “All this fun without me? You dirty fucking dog.”

“Jaem, it’s not what it looks like! She’s st—“

“No no, seriously, by all means—go on, don’t let me interrupt. I’m dying to know what you’ll do next.” He says sarcastically. “You’re really the luckiest motherfucker I know, Jeno. Found her like this before I had the chance.”

“Dude, it’s not like that!” He groans, gripping around your waist roughly out of frustration.

“Ow!” You squeak, pushing back harder against his crotch. “Jaemin, do something!”

“Do something?” He muses, squatting down near his brother to get a good look at your connected lower halves, skirt pushed high above your hips and underwear scrunched up between your buttcheeks. “I can do a lot, if you really want me to, princess.”

“Jaemin, no..” Jeno begs quietly, knowing his sibling better than himself. “You can’t.”

“Oh, but you can, right?” He snickers, snapping his fingers. “All this struggling and neither of you idiots has considered oil yet?” He laughs, patting Jeno’s back roughly before exiting.

“Where’d he go?!” You kick at the ground again, maybe Jaemin could get you out of here, he’s buffer than Jeno.. always flexing his muscles in front of you talking about ‘gains’.

“Uh..” Jaemin walks back in before he’s able to coin up a lie, a clear bottle of baby oil in hand. “Man, why do you even have that??”

“You know why.” He grins cockily, returning to match Jeno’s position on his knees. “We’ll just lube her up real good and she’ll slip right out.”

“What is this?” Jeno asks, genuinely bewildered. “Am I dreaming?” He raises an eyebrow, reaching to pinch your buttcheek.

“Ow! What the fuck!”

Oh right, he’s supposed to pinch himself. Not you.

“Don’t think you are but either way, hope we don’t wake up.” Jaemin chuckles, nudging his elbow into his brother’s side. “I think you’ve had enough failed attempts at this, it’s my turn.”

Reluctantly Jeno’s shoulders drop and he shifts off to your side, hard-on pressed to your hip as if that will help hide how insanely turned on he is right now.

Jaemin makes a face, whistling quietly as he leans in to whisper for you not to hear. “I’d be 8 deep in her right now, you’re an idiot.”

“Whatever man, I’m trying to be a good brother.”

“Step.” Jaemin rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t count, besides, look at us and look at her—we’re like some PornHub dream come true. Think of the money we could make if we filmed this..”

“Hello?!” You cry out, unable to hear anything aside from muffled voices. “Are you going to help me or what?!?”

“Of course princess.” Jaemin says reassuringly, handing Jeno the bottle of baby oil to free his hands to grab onto your hips. “You’re stuck real good in there unfortunately, but your big brother has a great plan to get you out.”

Jeno shakes his head, mouthing ‘you sick fuck’ to the other, receiving only a much too cheerful smile in return.

“Okay, thank you..” you don’t sound too convinced, but at this point with your makeup all sweated off and hair ruined, you don’t have much of a choice other than to just go with it.

“I’m going to try oiling you up, but I don’t want to ruin your pretty outfit baby.” He winks at Jeno, mouthing ‘watch this’. “Is that okay with you?” He tugs on your underwear to ask without flat out asking.

“Take off my clothes?” With your top already rolled down to your waist and this bent over position you’ve been stuck in for too long now, you can’t fathom how much more humiliating this situation can get at this point.

“Yeah, sort of like when you use butter to help remove jewelry that’s too tight.” Jaemin shrugs, convinced he made that up. “It’s worth a shot to try, or would you rather I call the fire department to have you craned out of here. Might be hard to explain the hole in our roof to mom and dad later, and think of how much that repair will cost them.”

“Fine, fine! Get me out of here, please Jaem.” You whine again, lazily collapsing onto your stomach and chest.

“You don’t have to beg baby.” Jaemin can’t stop the smile on his lips from growing, slowly rolling your panties down to unveil your bald smooth cunt. He sucks in a hissed breath between his teeth. “Fuck, even prettier than I imagined.”

Jeno leans in closer, swallowing down a sob. “Yeah, real nice..” his hand lifts, hovering close by. “You’re right, fuck, I’m an idiot.” His hips jam closer, digging his painfully hard length into the side of your thigh.

“We should oil your entire body.” Jaemin pipes up. “You know, to make sure you slip free easily. I wouldn't want my baby sis to get hurt.”

That doesn’t make a lick of sense, you think, but who fucking cares anymore. Jaemin skims his palms beneath your skirt, tugging it over your hips ever so gently. Clueless to the visual of your ass bouncing against the material with each light tug, he curses under his breath.

“You see that Jeno?” He nods to your exposed rim, tight as fuck, as if nothing’s ever penetrated back there. “That’s a damn shame.. Our poor baby, so neglected..”

You hate to admit but everything your step-brother has said in his usual monotone calm voice has your thighs rubbing together anxiously. Because when you weighed the pros and cons of sacrificing your pride and ego, you failed to consider the most humiliating one: leaking down your thighs for your step-brothers to watch from a front row seat.

“Fuck.”

“What was that my angel?” Jaemin chimes, reaching for your top to drag down over your wide hips, the material showing resistance as seams pop open passing over the round pert of your ass. “You’re doing so good for me.” He says, acknowledging Jeno with his arm slung atop the dryer to stop himself from hunching forward and burying his face between your butt. “Well, for us.”

This has to be some type of punishment, you can’t even bite down on your fist to drown out the moan you let out next. Jaemin uses your weakened state to fully control the dip in your back, hoisting your hips higher to make your cheeks spread naturally and leave you completely exposed.

“God damn.” He grits pushing down on your waist and pressing his crotch to the back of your thigh. “Hurry up Jeno, soak her up.”

“You have to say it like that?” Jeno sounds near the verge of tears trying to uncap the baby oil in his tight grip. “Isn’t this—sort of..”

“If you don’t hurry the fuck up I’m gonna shove my dick inside of her in the next five seconds!” Jaemin hisses at his brother, reaching for the string keeping his sweats up. “Five! Four!—“

“Okay okay!” Jeno practically drops the bottle out of fear, squeezing its contents out rapidly with his jaw hung at the sight of your ass gleaming back at him absolutely drenched. “Can’t do this, Jaem! I need—need to fuck her!”

“What?? What’s going on!?” You shriek, jumping back as the oil dribbles up your back, only magnifying how obscene your ass looks shining with a thick coat of oil.

“This is insane.” Jaemin mumbles, shoving his sweats and boxers down in one go. He lowers down to speak into the dryer, snaking in to smear the oil higher up your back. “Hey, I don’t want to get my clothes dirty either, right Jeno? I’m sure you understand, baby.”

“What?” You sigh, eyes flying wide open when you feel it, hot and thick against your soaked ass. “Is that?—“ to make matters worse, you feel it again against your other thigh, bigger even, pulsating where he’s pressed, nearly burning your skin from how hot he feels. “Oh my God.”

“Yeah,” Jaemin moans, smoothing his oily hands to your chest, squeezing the second he cups your breasts. “Fuckfuckfuck, I think it’s working!” He pulls you back more, the top of your stomach sliding against the dryer making the nastiest squeegee-like sound.

“You’re doing so so good for us.” Jeno finally manages to speak up, pouring out the entire contents of the now empty bottle in his hold, tossing it aside to massage in the mess pooling between the crevice of your ass. “Shit. What the fuck. You’re so fucking pretty down here. Of course you are, so damn pretty everywhere aren’t you?”

“Jaem, Jeno—what’s—“ you huff out, short of breath the more you get pulled out but your step-brothers thick biceps caging your hips.

Jaemin hushes you dismissively, gaining better leverage around your middle to pull you out, your sweater barely clinging to your arm anymore. “Come on Jeno, grab her legs for me.” He grunts, exuding strength he’s only had to use in the bedroom before. Lucky for you his favored positions have always left him in complete control, tossing whoever he’s fucking around to his will.

Jeno’s fast to listen to orders, especially if it means he’ll be in the perfect position to actually have you landing in his lap as if he manifested it to happen.

“Ahhh!”

Once your elbow unhooks from your sweater, you shoot out of the dryer like the log ride and Disney world, hurdled back by the extra force you and Jaemin had been using to free your upper half. The relief of finally being free washes over you, panting for breath that doesn’t reek of lint and musty heat. “Holy shit, I can’t believe it!”

Too stunned and eager to fix your sweaty locks, you nearly miss the sad pathetic groan Jeno lets out, clutching around your waist to keep you slotted against his rock hard length. “Je—oh fuck.”

Jaemin sits up on his knees, regaining his composure and breath as he wipes off his greasy palms by slapping them together repeatedly. “That was some show, look at what you’ve done. Poor Jeno looks about ready to burst.”

He crawls forward, grabbing onto your knees before you even think to slam your thighs shut, too caught up in the thick size nestled between your ass to even fully understand how naked all of you are. Naked and completely doused from neck to toe in baby oil, it almost seems too ridiculous to be real…

“Now now,” he drawls, relaxing between your thighs only held open by his palms cupped under the pits of your knees. “In a sense, this is like pulling out the Excalibur..”

“Dude, I’m fucking dying here! Be fucking for real!” Jeno sounds more desperate than you’ve ever heard him, whining like a puppy into your shoulder and apologizing with a feather light kiss.

Jaemin laughs, could even qualify as a cackle, smoothing down to your inner thighs. “Don’t you think we’ve earned a prize from our princess?”

The sweet charming smile you’re used to seems more menacing than ever now as he inches lower, heavy palms cupping your inner thighs and pulling apart your cunt with his thumbs to show off how wet you are. “Is all that for us? You nasty dumb little slut. Want your big brother’s to fuck your holes so bad don’t you?” Jaemin finishes with a hot wad of spit landing at your entrance to further drill in your shame, shivering back into Jeno’s hold as he sets a searing kiss on your clit.

“Fuck Jeno, she’s so tight.” Dragging through your folds he stretches his digits out for you to see the thick mix of baby oil and slick arousal forming clear strings between his fingers.

“Wetter than a fucking slut.” Jeno bites your earlobe, trailing one of his palms down the smooth expanse of your stomach to your clit. “Let me fuck her ass first at least.”

“Huh? N-no—not there, I haven’t before.”

Jaemin’s tongue clicks, kissing the backs of his teeth and squinting his eyes as if to call your bluff. He reaches between your split ass, thumb pressing to your rim meeting tight resistance. “Fuck, she’s not lying.”

Jeno can feel a prickle of tears burning at the backs of his eyes, his sack drawn up tight and heavy from being edged this long. “I can’t anymore!” He really can’t, he’s been hard since you mimicked the forgettable skanks that pass in and out of his bedroom. None of them would ever match up to you, only confirmed as his hips lift up and the tip of his cock struggles to penetrate past your wet tight circle of muscle. That doesn’t stop him from using his hold around your waist to his advantage, gliding you down his length with ease the more pilant you turn in his arms.

“Fuckkkkkkkkkkkk.” He thinks he might cum from this alone. Pussy walls too smooth around his size, sucking along each pulsing vein as he inches in until he meets resistance and has to bite down on your shoulder to stop himself from screaming out.

“Greedy motherfucker.” Jaemin mutters, pushing the backs of your knees up higher until you’re pretzeled between the large sculpted bodies of your step-brothers, the same two whose names you’ve cried into your pillow with your hand down your pajama pants many nights.

Jeno rips a fresh batch of tears out of you, the stretch of his cock bordering painful if not for how obscenely wet you are, but the moans singing from deep within your chest are short lived; cut off by a thick prod at the top of your entrance right above the length already filling you up.

“I’ll fuck your ass next time.” Jaemin groans, shoving his cock in against the push he’s met with between your tight hole and his brother’s unrelenting thrusts. “That’s it, taking both of our dicks baby? So easily too? Who knew my baby sister was such a fucking slut.”

“N-no, not—a slut..” you wail, unable to handle how hard and big they both feel thrusting inside of you at different times. The friction cuts off your breath, sucking in your stomach to pull away from the fast unforgiving speed they both fuck into you. “S’too much! Too full!”

“Like that baby? So fucking full with both of us inside of you.” Jeno sounds strangled, pouring sweat the more he exerts himself to fuck into you faster and harder than Jaemin. He should have fucked you first to begin with. “Feel us both sliding into you? Taking two dicks like nothing, you know what that makes you?”

“A dirty fuck hole,” Jaemin says between clenched teeth, reaching for your neck to hold your head up and watch your eyes well up with tears, nodding and agreeing with everything they say just like the good little fuck toy you are, only for them.

“You can’t even wait for it, can you?” Jaemin manages to rasp out, throat locking up with each bury of his size engulfed in your tight heat. He grips your cheeks roughly with his palm cupping your chin. “What. A. Fucking. Whore..” He says it in a nasty tone on purpose to make your stomach turn, hitting deep inside with pointed demanding thrusts between each word. The shame of letting both your step-brothers fuck you is already enough to weigh 500 pounds of guilt down on your chest, but letting them both do it at the same time..

Everything crashes hard, unable to fall back or arch forward between their burly builds. Too overwhelmed, overheated and crazed with each sheathing thrust, your neck drops back gasping for air; weakly slapping Jaemin’s shoulders as tremors roll up from your toes to your shoulders and your eyes roll up. The squeeze around their lengths almost has them both slipping out as you cum and pour out more arousal around them, both using the extra glide to fuck you faster through your orgasm.

“I’m cl-close.” Jeno’s eyes practically match yours, wet from the maddening clamp around his throbbing member. “Can’t… fucking..” Pushing you forward against Jaemin’s chest he pulls out, pussy snapping around his cock noisily with gushing wetness following. It only takes one stroke to have him spilling out onto your ass with a chorus of curses and muffled shouts, slapping his length down on the rounded part of your butt to watch his cum dribble down between your ass faster. “Fuck me.”

He’d pass out clean if not for his brother pushing you right back to where you were against his chest, slamming his dick back into you without anything to hold him back anymore.

“Jaemin!” You scream, reaching for his shoulders to slow down the viscous grueling slap of skin colliding with skin, bounced up and down his length as if you weigh nothing to him.

“Fucking take it.” He growls, thrusts turning erratic as each vein lining his neck bursts out, skin pink and hot from driving all of his power into each ram of his hips. Each plunge of his size backed with intent to leave a mark. Stuttering forward, his head falls back releasing a long winded groan, chest rising against your face as his eyes roll up and he hits peak deep within you.

“Y-you—you came inside?” You ask, still coming down from your high, neck rolling against Jeno’s shoulder. “I-inside of me?”

Jaemin grunts, slamming in one final thrust with a pained expression, you just feel too good to stop. “You’re on the pill anyway, don’t be so dramatic.”

Jeno scoffs behind you, shoving between your bodies to push Jaemin’s weight off of you. “You’re such a dick.”

Jaemin smirks proudly, slowly drawing free from your wrecked cunt. “God baby, how am I supposed to stop now?” He lets out a deep breathy sigh, reaching between your tighs to circle your entrance for the rest of his cum to trickle out onto the floor and run down your ass. “Such a perfect pussy.”

“C-can’t— no more Jaem.” You mumble half-asleep, turning your face to burrow in Jeno’s neck. “Tired.”

“You heard her, Jeno.” Jaemin raises his full eyebrows up and down, sneaking his brother a knowing look. “She can’t handle me anymore.”

Jeno nods, dragging his lips down the side of your face to your mouth. “He’s right angel, how are we supposed to stop now?” With that he moves your hips back, lining his hardening length up with your gaped entrance. The space molded from your step-brother's combined cocks allows him to fully enter you with one hard thrust, cursing against the corner of your lips.

“Je-jeno—please..”

“Yeah, it’s all for you baby.” His arms wrap around your waist, pushing you down until you’re crushing his balls.

“Ca-can’t—“ the last thing you hear is Jaemin cooing on and on about how adorable you are, still squirting out a mess of arousal even as your eyes fall shut and Jeno continues to brutally snap his hips up.

“Didn’t she say something about a date tonight?” Jaemin’s voice comes through muffled, it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes since the three of you finished, judging from the burning crave for more between your thighs.

“Yeah, about that..” Jeno whispers, sounding more distant. “Think I heard her telling her friend she’s going out with that guy from Chicago, you know that big motherfucker down the street.”

“What??” Jaemin barks out much too loud, completely erasing the last bits of exhaustion away from your body. “He’s way too old for her!”

“I know. We can’t let her go, right?” Jeno sounds more stressed than his brother, mumbling like he’s chewing on one of his nails. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable knowing she’s out there with him of all people. That guys a dick..”

“He has a huge dick too.” Jaemin retorts, clicking his tongue annoyed. “Why don’t we tell her he called and said he couldn’t make it tonight? Change of plans or something.” He nods to your phone, inching closer to sneak it away, pinching the device between his fingers.

“She’s going to hate us if she finds out.” Jeno snatches your phone from him, typing in the code he’s seen you punch in while peeping over your shoulder. “It’s for her own good.” He finds your chat with Johnny in an instance, scrolling through quickly and sending himself the different scandalous selfies you’ve messaged. “Little slut..”

“Send me those too.” Jaemin pipes in, nudging his brother's side. “We should wake her up, it’s getting chilly out here.”

“Can’t believe she knocked out like that, her friend even left already.”

“Mmmhhhmm.. Jeno..”

They come to a pause, locking your phone after successfully deleting your chat with Johnny and blocking his number. Jaemin mouths ‘wake her up’ to his brother, shoving his shoulder to move closer to you.

“Hey..” Jeno sits at the edge of the pool chair you’re laid out on, reaching to tap your arm. “You should wake up.”

“Few more minutes..” you grumble, slapping his hand away. Jeno coughs, grabbing both your shoulders to shake you awake.

“It’s been long enough, come on, time to wake up!”

“Wh—how long have I been asleep?” The sun’s still setting behind the expanse of Jeno and Jaemin’s broad frames, making your eyes squint shut as you sit up quickly and pat around. “What.. what are we doing out here?!?”

Jeno helps you sit up, patting your back. “Hopefully you don’t get sick from sleeping out here for so long, we thought you’d gone inside.” He leaves out the mention of your date, sneaking a look at his brother.

“Wha—“ a fast glance around clears up your confusion. You had fallen asleep in the backyard. “It was all a dream?!”

“What was?” Jaemin asks, raising a suspicious eyebrow at your frazzled response. “What was all a dream, huh?”

“I—uhm..” your step-brothers eye you quizzically, both intimidating as they stand above you waiting for an answer. “Nightmare! I mean, about the dog next door.” You scramble to get up, stumbling forward as you try to shove your feet into your sandals.

“Where are you running off to?” Jeno says, arm looping around your waist before your knees can meet pavement. “Can’t be that silly date, he called while you were knocked out to cancel anyway.”

Hoisting you up he pushes you toward Jaemin, back crashing against his chest to easily lock you in place with his thick biceps caged around your sides, lips finding your ear to whisper. “Now, tell us more about this dream.”

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[pucksandpower]

Best Laid Plans

Carlos Sainz x Vasseur!Reader

Summary: you were just supposed to be a means to an end — a way for Carlos to get back at your father for dropping him — but the best laid plans often go awry and you quickly become so much more than that

Warnings: 18+ content and manipulation

Note: did I spend the whole day writing this to celebrate Carlos’ win? Maybe …

So much love to @struggling-with-drivers for always giving me the best ideas

The warm Portuguese sun beats down on Carlos as he strolls through the luxurious resort grounds, trying and failing to shake the anger simmering inside him.

How could Ferrari do this to him? After all he has given to the team over the past few seasons? To be so unceremoniously dumped for Lewis fucking Hamilton is a slap in the face he can barely comprehend.

He kicks at the pebbled path, hands jammed in his pockets, catching the eye of a young woman lounging by the pool up ahead. She gives him a warm smile that does strange things to his insides for a moment before he recognizes her — Y/N Vasseur.

The reality of who she is hits Carlos like a truck. The daughter of the team principal who betrayed him.

An idea begins to form in Carlos’ mind, a cruel little seed taking root. If Ferrari wants to play hardball, he can play harder. And what better way to get back at Fred than through his precious daughter?

Putting on his most charming grin, Carlos changes course to approach you. “Y/N, fancy running into you here,” he lies easily. “I didn’t realize you were vacationing at this resort too.”

You sit up, shielding your eyes against the sun’s glare. “Carlos! What a pleasant surprise.” Your smile is bright and genuine, setting off warning bells in the back of Carlos’ mind. He quickly silences them — this is just collateral damage.

“I was just getting ready for a dip. Care to join me?” You gesture towards the welcoming blue waters.

Carlos pretends to consider it for a moment. “You know what, I would love to.”

Stripping off his shirt, he can’t help but sneak glances at your swimsuit-clad figure as you slide into the pool, telling himself it’s just for show. You really are stunning though, he has to admit. This might not be so difficult after all.

“So what’s a beautiful young woman like yourself doing all alone at a place like this?” Carlos asks once he’s waded in beside you.

You let out a tinkling laugh, sweeping wet hair away from your face. “Taking a much needed break from real life, I suppose. My job can be … demanding at times.”

That piques Carlos’ interest — to be quite honest, he had just assumed you did nothing all day. “Oh? Do tell, I’m fascinated.”

With a bashful look, you launch into an explanation of your high-powered career that genuinely impresses Carlos despite himself. You’re whip-smart, articulate, and passionate about your work in a way he can relate to.

“Wow,” he finds himself saying once you’ve finished. “I don’t know why, but I wasn’t expecting that from you. Not that I’m judging a book by its cover or anything!” He adds quickly at your arched eyebrow.

You let out another of those bright laughs. “Don’t worry, I get that a lot. People see a privileged girl and make all sorts of assumptions.”

There’s a hint of bitterness underlying the lightness of your tone that Carlos picks up on all too well. He knows what it’s like to be looked down on and underestimated.

“For what it’s worth, I think what you do is really impressive,” he finds himself saying honestly. “And anyone who thinks less of you for it is a fool.”

The words seem to catch you off guard for a moment before your expression melts into a warm smile. “Why Carlos Sainz, I do believe you’re flirting with me.”

He grins back unrepentantly. “Is it working?”

You pretend to consider it for a moment before laughing again. “Maybe a little.”

The flirtatious back-and-forth continues as you both float lazily in the pool, Carlos quickly getting caught up in the effortless fun of it. You match him quip for quip, parry for parry, in a way he’s not used to from women. It’s exhilarating and unexpected.

In fact, he’s so caught up in your company that he nearly forgets his original intention entirely. Until a stray thought brings the memory crashing back down … you’re Fred Vasseur’s daughter.

The realization is like a bucket of cold water being upended over Carlos’ head. What is he doing? This woman hasn’t done anything to wrong him. Going after you just to get petty revenge on your father is ugly and uncalled for. He should just be the bigger man, swallow the insult Ferrari dealt him, and move on.

But then he thinks about the disrespect, the callousness of dumping him like dead weight after all he bled for the team. Perhaps a little payback is in order after all.

With a wicked grin, Carlos begins swimming slowly towards you, an unmistakable glint in his eye. You seem to pick up on it, cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “What’s that look for?”

“Just thinking,” he murmurs once he’s close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath. “About how I could make this vacation even more … memorable.”

His heavy-lidded gaze drops to your lips for just a moment, but you catch it. You bite your lower lip unconsciously as heat blazes between you. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm,” Carlos all but purrs, reaching out to gently cup your jaw, thumb stroking over your cheekbone. You shiver despite the warmth of the day, eyelids fluttering. “If you’ll allow me?”

For a long stretch, you seem to be rendered speechless, pupils blown wide as you study his face intently. Then, so softly, “Yes.”

That’s all the permission Carlos needs before he’s crashing his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

The moment your lips meet his, it’s like a jolt of electricity courses through Carlos. He kisses you deeply, urgently, all thoughts of revenge or ill-intent evaporating from his mind. This is pure want, unbridled desire singing through his veins.

You return the kiss with equal fervor, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. Your mouth is warm, soft, pillowy — everything Carlos didn’t know he was craving until this very moment. He skims his hands over the slick curves of your body beneath the pool’s surface, marveling at the gasps and sighs he pulls from you with each exploratory touch.

When you finally break apart, you’re both panting heavily, faces flushed. Carlos drinks in the sight of you — hair tousled, lips swollen, and eyes dark with wanting. He’s never seen anything more beautiful.

“Carlos ...” You breathe his name like a prayer and something primal uncurls in his lower belly.

Instead of responding, he simply crushes his mouth to yours once more, walking you backward until your back gently hits the pool’s tiled edge. You let out a muffled moan as he settles between your parted thighs, the heated line of his body flush against yours.

One of his hands slides up over the soft skin of your ribs to cup your breast as you arch shamelessly into his touch. He drags his lips in hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of your jaw and down the graceful column of your neck, relishing the way you keen beneath his attention.

“You feel so good, cariño,” he rumbles against the feverish skin just below your ear, punctuating the words with a deliberately slow roll of his hips that has you releasing a broken whimper. “So fucking perfect ...”

In this moment, with you writhing and mewling in his arms, Carlos has never been more grateful for his commitment to physical fitness. He knows he can keep this up all day if need be, ravishing you over and over until you’re a limp, sated puddle.

He runs his tongue in a scorching path up the side of your neck before returning to that sinful mouth, swallowing your desperate little moans hungrily. You cling to him as if he’s the only thing keeping you tethered, nails raking deliciously over his back and shoulders in a way that will surely leave marks. Carlos loves it, loves the proof of your passion painted on his skin in thin red lines.

Trailing his lips across the hinge of your jaw, he murmurs “Should we take this somewhere more private, princesa?”

You let out a shuddering breath, hips canting up instinctively to meet each roll of his. “God, yes ... please ...”

The sound of your needy whine sends a molten thrill straight to Carlos’ cock. He’s fully hard and aching for you, straining against his swim trunks with every second that passes. If possible, he wants you even more.

With a grunt of effort, he hooks his hands beneath your thighs and hikes your legs up around his waist in one swift motion. You let out a startled squeak that quickly dissolves into a moan as he shifts against you just right, creating delicious friction. Your arms wind around his neck as you bury your face in the curve where his neck meets his shoulder.

“You feel that, cariño?” Carlos rumbles darkly. “I can’t wait to be inside you. Stretching you so perfectly full of me. Will you be a good girl and take it? Every. Last. Inch?”

He emphasizes each of the final three words with a firm grind of his hips, rutting his rigid length against your clothed heat. Your back bows in response, mouth dropping open on a silent wail of pleasure. Carlos can feel your sticky wetness soaking through the thin material of your swimsuit bottoms and groans harshly.

“P-please ...” You keen, worrying his earlobe between your teeth. “I need you, Carlos. I need it so bad ...”

And just like that, the trance is broken. Carlos blinks, suddenly acutely aware that you’re grinding shamelessly against each other in the very public pool area of this high-end resort. A few pointed looks from other guests are enough to have a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck.

Clearing his throat, he reluctantly pulls himself back and sets you on your feet. You let out a disappointed whimper that goes straight to his groin.

“P-perhaps we got a bit carried away, princesa,” Carlos huffs out a laugh, running a hand through his damp curls. “Why don’t we go somewhere a bit more … private to continue this?”

You bite your plump lower lip and Carlos has to resist the urge to lean forward and free it with his teeth. Nodding eagerly, you cast a look around before tugging his hand and heading for the exit, leaving a trail of water droplets in your wake.

Carlos follows eagerly, openly ogling the way your soaked swimsuit hugs every tantalizing curve. He’s never been so grateful for his decision to book one of the private beachfront villas at this resort — just a stone’s throw from where you’re leading him, he’ll finally be able to have you all to himself.

The thought has him semi-frantically fumbling for the keycard as you press urgent, open-mouthed kisses to any patch of bare skin you can find — his shoulder, his neck, the line of his jaw. By the time he gets the door open you’re both panting like you’ve run a marathon, desire thrumming white-hot through your veins.

The second you’re inside, Carlos has you pressed back against the door, forearms braced on either side of your head as he towers over you. For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crosses your features and he’s abruptly reminded of who you are.

“Are you sure about this?” He murmurs lowly, searching your eyes. “Because if we do this, I can promise you there’s no going back for me, cariño.”

You visibly swallow hard but then give a small, determined nod. “I want this, Carlos. I want you.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s capturing your lips in another searing, desperate kiss that has you melting against him. He walks you backward, never breaking contact until the backs of your legs hit the edge of the plush bed. With a growl, he hooks his hands beneath your thighs and hitches your legs around his hips once more.

You let out a breathless giggle as he tumbles you both down onto the soft cotton sheets, immediately rolling until he’s blanketed by the gorgeous expanse of your body. God, you’re even more stunning like this — hair fanned out in a tousled riot, cheeks flushed and lips swollen, eyes glazed with naked wanting.

Carlos takes a moment just to appreciate the view, raking his eyes over every inch he can see. A tremor goes through you beneath his weighty gaze and he smirks, leaning down to trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of your slender throat.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, princesa,” he rumbles against your overheated skin. “How many times I’ve thought about having you just like this, spread out beneath me and begging for it ...”

The truth is, he hasn’t thought about it at all until this very day. But something about the way your breath hitches and your hips cant up instinctively at his words makes Carlos want to keep going.

“I’ve watched you, you know,” he lies smoothly, relishing the full-body shiver that wracks your frame. He nips along the graceful line of your collarbone and you whine softly in the back of your throat. “Couldn’t tear my eyes away whenever you were around. Imagining what delicious little sounds you might make with my cock buried inside you ...”

You moan then, loud and unabashed as you tug needily at his hair to bring his mouth back up to yours. Carlos chuckles darkly into the kiss, reveling in how utterly desperate he’s managed to make you for him so quickly.

“Is this what you want, princesa? You want me to fuck you?” He keeps his tone a low, filthy rasp against the plush of your lips. “Hard and deep and ruthless until you can’t remember anything but my name on your tongue?”

“Yes!” The word rushes out in an urgent whine and Carlos lets out a feral growl, slamming his hips firmly against yours in one rough grind that has your mouth dropping open on a broken cry of ecstasy.

Moving with purposeful efficiency, he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your swimsuit bottoms and tugs them down over the swell of your hips and off completely. He shoves his own trunks down just far enough to free his throbbing length, giving it a few firm strokes to spread the pearling bead of precome over the swollen head.

With a low, heated look, Carlos hitches your legs over his shoulders and lines the blunt head of his cock up with your entrance. Just from this angle, he can see how slick and swollen you already are for him, glistening with arousal.

“Last chance, cariño,” he rumbles, rubbing himself in one deliciously torturous swipe through your folds and back again. You moan loudly, back bowing off the bed. “After this, I won’t be able to stop until you’re utterly ruined for anyone else’s touch ...”

The sound you make is practically inhuman, hand shooting out to grasp at his hip almost painfully hard. “Carlos … Carlos, please!”

Never one to deny such a desperate plea, Carlos braces one hand beside your head and slowly, inexorably begins to sink into your welcoming heat.

The tight, slick heat of your core enveloping Carlos inch by agonizing inch is utterly sublime. He has to grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut to keep from embarrassing himself right then and there. You’re impossibly tight, so perfectly molded to his shape — he’s never felt anything quite like it.

Beneath him, you keen softly as he stretches and fills you in one steady glide. Your fingernails bite crescent moons into the firm planes of his back as if you’ll fall apart if not anchored to him. Carlos rumbles his approval low in his chest at the sweet sting.

Once he’s fully sheathed, hips flush with yours, he pauses to simply bask in the feeling for a long moment. You feel so indescribably good wrapped around his throbbing length — hot and snug and fluttering subtly like your body can’t decide whether to grip him tighter or ease his way.

“Fuck, cariño ...” The words tear from Carlos’ throat in a ragged groan. “You feel incredible. So perfect for me.”

You whimper wordlessly in response, flexing and releasing your inner muscles in a way that has him seeing stars behind his eyelids. He captures your mouth in a filthy, demanding kiss to swallow your desperate little noises. It’s all he can do not to start pounding away with reckless abandon.

Pulling back slowly until just the thick head of his cock remains inside your clutching heat, Carlos locks eyes with you. Your pupils are blown wide, lips parted enticingly with each panting breath, the picture of wanton desire. He’s never seen anything so erotic in his life.

You must read the promise in his expression because suddenly you’re nodding frantically and chasing his retreating hips with a needy whine.

“Please, Carlos!” You keen desperately, nails scoring lines of fiery pleasure-pain down the rigid plane of his back. “I need it, I need you to-”

He doesn’t let you finish, snapping his hips forward in one hard thrust that buries him to the hilt. The broken cry that tears from your perfect lips goes straight to his dick.

Carlos repeats the harsh, punishing rhythm over and over, relishing the snug drag of your velvet walls against his aching cock. He soon has you a mewling, mindless mess beneath him, whining his name like a holy mantra with each powerful stroke.

“That’s it, princesa,” he rasps against the flushed curve of your neck, lips brushing saltily over your overheated skin. “Take it all for me. Every. Last. Fucking. Inch.”

As punctuation, he slams home with a sharp roll of his hips that has you keening shrilly and throwing your head back. You clutch at him desperately, meeting each heavy thrust in perfect counterpoint as he picks up the pace. The air is thick with the obscene sounds of skin sliding relentlessly together and your punched-out whimpers and moans.

Carlos has never felt so deliriously consumed by physicality before. It’s like his whole world has narrowed down to this moment, this connection of your joined bodies moving as one. He wants to burn the memory of how you feel, how you sound, how you taste, into his mind forever.

“Look at me,” he growls against the sweat-slick curve of your jaw when your eyes start to drift shut in ecstasy. “I wanna see those pretty eyes when you fall apart on my cock, princesa.”

You force your lids open with obvious effort, irises wild and hazy with lust. Carlos feels a molten surge of possessive desire lash through his veins at the sight. He slams into you with renewed fervor, savoring the high, desperate whine it punches from your parted lips.

“That’s it, cariño ... fuck, you’re exquisite like this.” His praise comes out in a ruined rasp but it seems to spur you on. Your nails dig bruising furrows into his lower back as you meet him thrust for bruising thrust.

Carlos can feel the telltale tightening and fluttering in your inner walls that signals your impending release like a vise grip around his cock. He wants nothing more than for you to shatter apart on his length. Slipping one hand between your sweat-slicked bodies, he finds the swollen bundle of nerves and rolls it firmly between calloused fingertips.

You release a strangled scream, back bowing off the mattress as white-hot pleasure spikes through you. “Carlos! Oh my god, Carlos, I’m … I can’t ...”

“Come for me, princesa,” Carlos encourages hoarsely against the side of your neck. He continues to work you over with nimble fingers in time with the punishing snap of his hips. “Let me feel you come apart all over my cock. Fucking soak it ...”

The guttural river of carnal filth coming from his lips seems to be the final straw, sending you crashing violently over the edge. You seize up around him with a shrill, sobbing wail, inner muscles clamping down in hot, pulsing waves. Carlos curses roughly, eyes squeezing shut against the unbelievable sensation of being massaged and milked for every drop.

If he thought the vice grip of your orgasm was intense, the aftermath is even more sublime. You lie utterly limp and boneless beneath him, still aflutter and fluttering in sweet, rhythmic clenches around his cock. He grits his jaw and fights to keep control, knowing he won’t last much longer buried in your intoxicating heat like this.

When you finally regain some coherency, eyes fluttering open with a dazed murmur of his name, Carlos pulls back slowly until just the throbbing crown remains inside. He intends to give you a brief respite before chasing his own thunderous release, but the moment he starts to withdraw your legs lock high around his hips.

“No ...” You keen, nails raking pleadingly down his back. The desperate craving in your tone very nearly undoes him. “Carlos, please. Don’t stop ...”

Growling low in his chest, Carlos immediately buries himself home once more — this time with a single, powerful thrust that has your brows shooting up as the air rushes from your lungs in a strangled cry. Clearly, you still need it as much as he does.

He fists one hand in the tousled hair at the nape of your neck, using the grip to tilt your head to one side as he lays a searing path of nips and sucking kisses along the exposed column. You shudder and whimper beneath him, utterly pliant and receptive to his claiming touches.

“Tell me what you want, cariño,” he rasps between rough drags of teeth over your thundering pulse point. He remains buried to the hilt, muscles bunched and quivering with the effort of holding himself rigid and still inside you. “Use your words and tell me.”

For a long moment, you seem too dazed and overwhelmed to reply. Then, in a small, wrecked voice, “I want … I want you to fuck me, Carlos. Please ...” Your eyes are glazed yet earnest, boring into his from beneath sooty lashes. “Don’t hold back. I need to feel you come too.”

A harsh groan is punched from Carlos’ lungs at your plea. Letting himself go and really taking you the way his body screams at him to would be heaven and hell all at once.

There’s likely no coming back from it — he’ll ruin you for anyone else’s touch, just as he warned. Once all is said and done, you’ll be irrevocably his in a way that frightens and exhilarates him to his core.

For a heart-stopping moment, he hesitates. And then you moan again — a thin, keening sound of utter desperation — and it’s like the last thread of Carlos’ control snaps completely.

“Hold on tight then, cariño ... because I won’t be able to stop.”

That’s the only warning he gives before pulling almost fully out and slamming back home in one brutal thrust that drives the air from your lungs on a high, shocked cry. He doesn’t let up from there — turning you over onto your belly and dragging your hips up onto his thighs so he can take you from behind in a series of ruthless, punishing strokes.

You quickly become an incoherent, sobbing mess beneath his onslaught, hands clawing uselessly at the sheets as he pounds into you again and again like he’s trying to split you apart. Carlos relishes the sharp smack of sweat-slick flesh on flesh, the strained crescendo of your hoarse wails, the drug-like delirium of being utterly surrounded and consumed by your scorching velvet grip.

It’s too much and not enough all at once. He clutches you flush against him, one big hand spread over your lower stomach like he could somehow force his cock impossibly deeper. The other winds around to toy and tug almost cruelly at your taut, reddened nipples — drawing out a stream of broken, overwhelmed whimpers.

Carlos has never felt more powerful. Body and mind, he owns you utterly in this moment. The thought is nearly enough to send him skating right over the edge into oblivion.

Instead, he jerks you up onto your knees fully so he can plunge into your straining, overworked sex at a different angle — this one hitting something deep inside that has you screaming hoarsely. He captures the wild thrash of your head in the curve of one sweat-slick bicep to bare the elegant line of your throat to his hungry mouth.

“Could you possibly have taken any more of me, princesa?” Carlos husks against the side of your neck, relishing the way it makes you tremble and clench even harder around his pistoning length. “You were made just to be split open on my cock ...”

You let out a garbled sound halfway between agreement and overwhelmed protest. Carlos snarls against your racing pulse, sucking a blatant mark of possession just below your jaw where everyone will be able to see before abruptly rolling you both back over.

He looms above you once more, grinding steadily into your core with deep, purposeful strokes that leave you writhing and wailing with over-stimulation. But Carlos isn’t finished yet — isn’t anywhere close to getting his fill.

“Look at me, cariño,” he commands in a guttural rasp, waiting with molten, heavy-lidded eyes until your lust-drunk stare meets his. “I need to see that pretty face when I come inside you ...”

His words seem to energize you somewhat, your eyes snapping sharper with renewed awareness.

And then, incredibly, you cunt flutters and grips down around him again in the unmistakable clutch of another orgasm ripping through you like a livewire. Carlos has to use every ounce of stamina and control not to follow you right over that blinding edge as you thrash and shriek beautifully beneath him.

By the time you come back down, cheeks flushed and chest heaving, Carlos is practically vibrating with the force of his impending release. His movements have taken on a desperate edge, hips snapping in erratic, forceful jabs as he chases that final blissful oblivion.

When your sated, velvety heat squeezes rhythmically one final time, Carlos throws his head back with his own roar of release. White-hot rapture spikes through every nerve ending as his balls tighten in excruciating bliss. His world narrows down to the exquisite pulsing of your sheathed depths rippling and drawing every last drop from him in endless, blistering waves.

It seems to stretch on forever, Carlos unable and unwilling to move from his impaled position even once the final shudders have wrung him dry. He simply remains blanketed over you, lungs heaving and muscles quaking with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

When he finally regains enough presence of mind to open his eyes and look down at you, the devotion burning in your spent, glowing expression makes his breath catch. For a long, fragile moment, it’s like you’re the only two people in the world.

Eventually, your eyes drift shut on a contented sigh and your body goes lax and pliant against the sheets once more. Carefully, Carlos eases out of your swollen, used entrance and rolls to collapse in a sweaty heap beside you. He immediately tugs you into his embrace, savoring the feeling of your damp, feverish skin pressed to his.

As you drift off to slumber coiled against his chest, Carlos presses a lingering, tender kiss to your crown and tightens his arms around you. He can feel the words pressing at his lips, straining to be released into the silence of this moment.

For now, he keeps them locked behind his teeth. But already he knows this isn’t simply lust or passion or a primal need for revenge that will fade with time. This was always meant to be more — something deeper …. everything Carlos never even realized he was missing until you stormed into his life in a whirlwind of smiles and secrets and blinding desire.

He’s in trouble now. Trouble of the very best kind.

***

Pale morning light filters in through the sheer curtains as Carlos blinks awake slowly. For a disoriented moment, he’s unsure of his surroundings — the rumpled white linens tangled around his naked body are certainly not what he’s used to waking up in.

Then the previous night’s events come rushing back in a heated wave. The pool … the frantic, desperate passion as he took you again and again until you were both hollowed out and sated … finally collapsing into a sweaty pile together. Carlos feels his chest tighten with a complicated swirl of emotions.

He turns his head on the pillow to find the source of the delicious warmth pressed along his side. And just like that, everything else falls away.

You’re tangled up with him still, one shapely leg hooked over his and an arm flung possessively across his torso. Loose riotous locks tickle Carlos’ skin where your face is half-buried in the curve of his neck.

He has to tamp down the overwhelming urge to pull you even closer, to wrap you in his arms and inhale the sweet, clean scent of your hair.

Like this — sleep-rumpled and soft in the morning’s buttery rays — you look almost unbearably lovely. An ache blossoms behind Carlos’ ribs as he studies the delicate fan of your lashes brushing flushed cheekbones and the gentle part of those full lips. Disheveled and without a stitch of make-up, you’re somehow even more breathtakingly beautiful.

Unconsciously, Carlos’ fingers find their way into your tangled tresses, lightly stroking and playing with the silken strands. You make a small, snuffling sound of contentment and burrow infinitesimally closer. He freezes, worried he’s disturbed your slumber, but your features remain smooth and serene.

He should get up. He should definitely get up and extract himself from this warm, addictive little bubble you’ve created before things go any further. This was only ever supposed to be a fling — a deliciously vindictive way to get back at your father for how he so callously cast Carlos aside.

Yet even as Carlos turns the thought over in his head, it rings hollow. What happened between you last night transcended anything so petty and cruel as revenge.

When he was sheathed so deeply inside you, your bodies moving in perfect sync like they were made for each other, Carlos felt something far more profound than just physical gratification. It was spiritual … cosmic, even, like every star in the universe had finally clicked into perfect alignment.

He should be disgusted with himself for having such saccharine notions. Carlos has always considered himself a realist — someone grounded in facts and figures, not given to romantic flights of fancy whatsoever. Yet here he is, helplessly mooning over a woman he barely knows all because of one night of incredible sex.

Except … Carlos is self-aware enough to recognize there was more to it than that, even if he can’t put words to the feeling yet. Some invisible cord has been lashed between you in a knot that feels unbreakable. Some intangible shift has occurred in his perspective that he can’t seem to walk back from.

Perhaps you sensed it too in the way you gazed at him afterwards — not just satiated, but glowing with a sort of wondering, naked adoration far too profound for a mere fuck. Carlos knows he should have been unnerved by the depth of emotion in your spent, happy features. And yet, he only felt it mirrored and compounded tenfold within himself.

With a frustrated huff, he tugs you closer and burrows his face into your hair, allowing your warm, comforting scent to soothe his wildly spiraling thoughts. You make another soft sound and your fingers twitch where they’re splayed over his ribs — reflexively trying to pull him in even tighter.

“What are you doing to me, princesa?” Carlos murmurs, low and graveled, against the crown of your head. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go at all ...”

Because the truth is, this was never meant to be anything more than a fleeting dalliance — an explosive joining of bodies and nothing more. But now that he’s had you, had this bone-deep connection to you, Carlos doesn’t think he can let it go so easily. The prospect of never again feeling you wrapped so perfectly around him in every sense of the word is abruptly gut-wrenchingly awful.

Which leaves him at an impasse. Because you … you are the daughter of the very man who unceremoniously discarded Carlos like an old rag after he gave everything to Ferrari. The offspring of the person who threw him away in a way that cut all the way to his core.

How could he possibly pursue anything real with you after that? It would be a horrific conflict of interests and constantly make things unbearably awkward, to say the very least. Not to mention Carlos has no idea if you even want more than just this one night of passion between you anyway. Perhaps to you he really was just an itch to scratch, a bout of impulsive lust to take the edge off before moving on.

The thought makes his stomach churn with jealousy so potent he has to physically swallow it back. Which … is not great, all things considered.

Tilting your head back with the lightest touch beneath your chin, Carlos studies your soft features searchingly. Perhaps if he stares hard enough, he’ll find some hint of deception or shallowness there. Some glaring evidence that this insane sense of yearning he feels is all one-sided — a misguided obsession brought on by the sort of euphoric sex one can never quite recapture once the high fades. He could use that as his cue to bow out now while you’re still tangled up together so prettily.

But even as he looks, really looks, all Carlos sees is the serene picture of a thoroughly satisfied, openly contented woman. There’s no shuttered gaze or pinched expression betraying any darker thoughts and feelings. Just blissed-out joy written in every relaxed line of those lovely features.

Something in Carlos’ chest cracks wide open at the realization that this is real for you too. You’re not just some meaningless one-off fling, but a woman who seems to have had her entire world upended in the same way his has been over the span of one incredible night.

“Carlos?” You murmur then, voice husky and slurred with the remnants of sleep as your lashes flutter open. “What’s wrong, mon beau?”

Your endearment sends a shockwave of tenderness and want pulsing through him straight to the roots. Carlos shakes his head minutely, winding one hand into your hair to hold you steady so he can simply … bask in your presence for a while.

“Nothing’s wrong, princesa,” he assures you lowly, thumb stroking gently over the arch of your cheekbone. “I just woke up early and got a little lost in my head for a bit there, that’s all.”

That small, secret smile he’s rapidly becoming addicted to tugs at your lips as your eyes rove languidly over his face. Your hand comes up to rest over his thundering heartbeat with surprising tenderness.

“Well then allow me to bring you back to the present. Right here with me.”

Your tone has taken on that rich sultriness from last night that shoots straight to his groin. Before Carlos can so much as draw breath to respond, you’re rising up to seal your mouth over his in a searingly passionate kiss.

He groans instantly, every atom of his being tuned to your frequency in a way that’s swiftly becoming terrifyingly natural. Carlos’ hands roam hungrily over your naked curves of their own volition, relearning each dip and swell through the silken glide of skin on skin.

When you break apart at last, you’re both thoroughly breathless and aroused. Carlos splays one big hand over the small of your back and simply holds you flush against him, savoring the feeling of your racing heart thundering in tandem with his own. He brushes kiss-swollen lips along the line of your jaw, prompting a delicious shiver.

“Don’t think for one second that I’ve had even a fraction of my fill of you yet, cariño,” he rasps against the feverish skin just below your ear, using his free hand to tug your head back so he can access the soft column of your throat. “You’ve addicted me beyond any chance of recovery now.”

Your breath hitches as he latches his mouth just above your thundering pulse point and sucks a blatant mark. Carlos revels in the needy whimpers spilling from your lips with each pass of his tongue over the tender patch of skin. He needs to mark you, claim you, render you unmistakable as his in every possible way.

“Carlos ...” You keen, back arching like a drawn bow as he continues trailing open-mouthed kisses down the slope of your neck and over your collarbones. “What are you saying?”

He pulls back to meet your heavy-lidded gaze, searching intently for permission to continue with what he suspects you’re asking. And there it is — desire and hope and invitation burning brightly in your soulful eyes, practically begging him to put words to this singular thing blazing between you.

Cupping your face in both hands, Carlos holds your rapt stare as he slowly, reverently presses a soft, lingering kiss to your slightly parted lips. You melt into him, one hand coming up to clutch desperately at his bicep.

“I’m saying,” he murmurs against the plush give of your pretty mouth. “That I can’t simply let this be the end, princesa. Not anymore. Not after experiencing what it feels like to be so exquisitely connected with someone in every possible way.”

The smile you give him in answer is as incandescent and warm as a living flame. You don’t attempt to contain the rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. Instead, you simply wind your arms around Carlos’ neck and pull him down into a molten kiss that somehow manages to convey every single infinite feeling ricocheting between your bodies.

He suddenly feels so overwhelmingly lucky in that moment. Lucky to have crossed paths with you by happenstance. Lucky that, by some miracle, he didn’t allow bitterness or pain or preconceived notions to blind him to your kindness and warmth and inherent goodness despite how this whole crazy thing started in his mind.

Because yes, you are the daughter of the man who turned his life and career upside down. But here, pressed against you, Carlos can feel the truth resonating through his bones — you are so much more than any of that.

And for the first time in his life, Carlos cannot fathom the idea of anything frightening him away.

***

The frantic Melbourne nightlife whirls and pulsates around Carlos in a dizzying kaleidoscope of neon lights and pounding basslines. Normally he would revel in the thrum of energy and excess — drinking in the atmosphere and feeding off the infectious exhilaration. But tonight, seated alone in the VIP lounge of one of the city’s most exclusive clubs, he finds his attention utterly undivided.

You stand out like a siren among the raucous crowd, every tilt of your hips and toss of your hair captivating Carlos completely.

He tracks the line of your body shamelessly as you sway and twist to the driving beat, that tantalizing little red dress riding up to reveal glimpses of toned, silky thighs that make his mouth water. A fine sheen of sweat glistens enticingly along your collarbones and in the hollow of your throat, no doubt making your overheated skin taste like salted caramel.

The urge to slide up behind you and drag his tongue along that slender, tempting slope is damn near overwhelming. He can vividly picture himself molding his larger frame against your softly undulating form, one hand spanning possessively across your lower belly to grind the rapidly stiffening ridge of his arousal against the lush swell of your rear.

He imagines precisely how you would react — arching back against him with a shuddering gasp, fingers threading into his hair to tug his mouth down upon yours in a frantic, needy kiss. How you would whimper and writhe against him, uncaring of the very public surroundings as desire rapidly whited everything else out ...

Almost as if sensing the scorching path of Carlos’ thoughts, you glance over your shoulder and catch his eye from beneath the veil of your lashes. That sly, inviting little smile immediately kicks his pulse into overdrive and lights a slow bloom of liquid heat unfurling in his lower belly.

With a crooked finger and a subtle uptilt of your chin you summon him to your side. And like the hopeless fool he is, Carlos rises instantly and crosses the small distance to enfold you in his arms from behind.

“Having fun out here without me, cariño?” He murmurs in your ear, lips brushing the sensitive shell so he feels the full-body shiver that wracks through you.

You lean back into his embrace, all soft curves and intoxicating jasmine scent. “I’m always having fun when I’m with you, Mr. Race Winner,” you sigh as your fingers trail delicately down the solid line of his biceps. “Even if we’re just sitting around doing nothing.”

The words are simple — honest and unguarded in a way that makes Carlos’ heart seize in his chest. For two people who came together in a wild collision of lust and passion, it’s moments like these that continually remind him of how much deeper your connection truly runs. Far beyond mere physicality into some soul-binding and unbreakable place.

You must sense the shift in his energy because you turn in his arms, expression questioning but so openly caring it nearly steals Carlos’ breath away. Tenderly, you cup his jaw and search his eyes.

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours, hmm?”

He shakes his head minutely, leaning down to brush his lips across your forehead before pulling you snug against his chest. You settle easily into the circle of his arms like that’s the most natural place in the world, cheek pillowed over his steadily thrumming heart.

“Nothing to worry about, princesa,” Carlos assures you gruffly, stroking soothing circles over the warm bare skin of your back. “Just feeling … lucky, I suppose. To have found someone like you.”

The words seem to catch you off guard and you pull back slightly to study his face, mouth curved in that secretive little smile that always makes Carlos’ stomach swoop.

“Well, I certainly feel the luckiest woman on Earth,” you tease lightly, booping his nose in a playful gesture that somehow serves to implant roots deep in Carlos’ soul rather than make him roll his eyes.

Instead, he just gazes at you for a long, weighted moment, allowing himself to simply bask in your presence. In the soft beauties that first drew him in — that delicate blush that finds its way across your nose and cheekbones, the little crinkles that bloom when your smile widens to that mega-watt, face-splitting beam, and those soulful eyes that never fail to pin Carlos helplessly in place.

Then there are the quieter, more intimate details he’s gradually uncovered the deeper he delves into your connection. The barely-there laugh lines at the corners of your eyes when you’re feeling particularly pleased about something. The trick of tugging on your lower lip with your teeth when you’re aroused and trying not to show it. The subtle furrow that appears between your brows when you’re concentrating intently on something.

Carlos knows them all now like geography he was born to navigate.

Without conscious thought, he smooths his thumbs over your jaw and guides you up into a slow, thorough kiss that has both your pulses kicking into overdrive. You whine quietly into his mouth, winding your arms around his neck and arching against him in ways that instantaneously have him hard and aching. But Carlos doesn’t give in to the heated urgency coursing through his bloodstream.

Instead, he keeps the languid glide of his lips over yours unhurried and leisurely — savoring the sensation of you pliant and receptive beneath his seduction. You seem to shake off your initial fervor as well, melting further into the molten drag of his mouth claiming yours over and over.

This too is a geography Carlos has long since mastered. The precise angle he needs to tilt his head to slot your bodies effortlessly flush together. The soft, mewling noises he can coax out of you with carefully applied suction to your plush lower lip. The tiny shudders when he swipes his tongue in long, slick caresses over the roof of your mouth.

You’re practically vibrating with restraint by the time he finally releases your mouth with an obscene, wet pop. Your lips are swollen and glistening, glistening with shared wanting. Carlos hums deep in his chest and brushes the pad of his thumb over the slick fullness reverently.

“So impatient, cariño,” he chides with a wolfish grin that has your nipples visibly peaking beneath the thin lace bodice. “You know that’s not what I had in mind for tonight.”

With an adorable little pout, you wind your arms around his neck once more. “And what, pray tell, did you have in mind?”

A dozen filthy scenarios immediately clamor for attention in Carlos’ head. Having you right here, up against the wall of this secluded VIP area. Bending you over the sleek lines of one of the low leather couches. Finding a shadowed alcove and sinking to his knees before you, nosing aside those delicate strips of lace to ...

He banishes each carnal thought before it can take root and produce visible effect. Tangling his fingers through the soft tresses at the nape of your neck, Carlos brings your foreheads together with a soft smile.

“I thought we might enjoy a moonlight stroll along the beach actually,” he murmurs, relishing the way your disappointed huff ruffles against his skin. “Just you and me under the stars, far away from the noise and crowds for a while.”

You regard him dubiously for a moment before seeming to melt at whatever expression Carlos doesn’t realize he’s allowed to show through. As always, you give in far too easily to his indulgent whims.

With a soft, fond roll of your eyes, you press up on your toes to drop a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Of course, mon amour. Just you and me under the stars.”

Twenty minutes later finds you ambling hand in hand down a pristine stretch of beach in the Middle Park suburb. The warm, salty breeze gusts gently over your skin, carrying traces of coconut sunscreen and the briny musk of the sea. Foamy waves lap invitingly against the silvered sands as Carlos steers you towards a small, isolated cove.

He procures a large woven blanket from his bag and unfurls it in a clear spot before tugging you down into the plush nest of fabric. You immediately gravitate into his space — curling against his side and tucking yourself beneath his arm like that’s where you were always meant to fit. For Carlos’ part, he cherishes the easy affection and careless intimacy of the simple gesture more than you’ll ever know.

You spend what could be minutes or hours like that — exchanging lazy kisses and sipping from a shared bottle of wine as the moon rises ever higher overhead. After a while, Carlos sprawls onto his back and you quickly drape yourself half-atop him so he can leisurely card his fingers through your windswept tresses.

The soft, steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear combined with the soothing sounds of the lapping tide soon have your eyelids drooping. Carlos has never felt so at peace — this sublime bubble with you the single point around which the rest of the universe spins, perfectly in balance.

“Hey,” you mumble against the warm, sleep-rumpled fabric of his shirt. “Aren’t you the one always saying we should be living in the present?”

He huffs a quiet laugh, stroking one hand down the dip of your spine to rest possessively at the base. “What brings that up all of a sudden?”

You shift enough to look up at him through your lashes, eyes molten with a familiar heat that shivers down Carlos’ spine.

“I’m just wondering what’s got you stuck in your head so often these days,” you counter smoothly, punctuating the observation by swinging one leg over his hips so you can settle atop him fully, careful not to disturb his still-tender stitches. “We’ve barely been able to share … intimate moments at all the last month or so.”

Carlos sucks in a sharp breath as your weight settles over the rapidly stiffening ridge of his arousal. His hands find your hips of their own volition, squeezing reflexively as you begin moving atop him in a slow, undulating rhythm.

“Perhaps I’ve been overtly romantic,” he allows through gritted teeth, letting his head thunk back against the blanket as desire rapidly thrums through his veins. “Missing out on more … physical expressions of passion just because I wanted to remind both of us that this is built on so much more than lust.”

You hum thoughtfully, sitting up fully and swaying atop him in a way that has Carlos rapidly losing his tenuous grasp on reality beyond this blissful patch of the world containing just the two of you. He’s fully hard and straining against the loose linen of his slacks within moments.

“Then maybe we should do something about that right now,” you breathe huskily, arching your back in an inhumanly graceful roll that leaves Carlos’ mouth dry as the Sahara. His hands track helplessly up the delicious curves of your waist, bunching the delicate material of your dress around your hips.

He sits up to meet you so suddenly your foreheads nearly crack together. You release a breathless giggle that Carlos hungrily swallows with his lips, trapping you in a searing kiss filled with all the smoldering hunger he’s been studiously keeping banked for weeks now.

Mindlessly, he chases the taste of you over and over — salty and sweet and everything he’s been desperately starving himself for. His fingers fumble at the tie closures along your ribs until the bodice finally falls away, baring your breasts to his gaze and seeking hands.

You gasp softly into the heated seal of his mouth when Carlos’ calloused palms close over your soft, pliant flesh. He cups and kneads with reverent, possessive strokes that have you quickly arching your chest further into his touch and throwing your head back on a wanton moan.

“Carlos ...” You breathe his name like a prayer, riding his lap with increasing urgency and bringing your mouths back together in a clash of teeth and tongues. Your fingers slide up beneath the hem of his shirt to map the shifting planes of his abdomen, nails raking over the taut, quivering muscles. “Don’t hold back with me any longer. Not tonight … need to feel all of you.”

A shudder wracks Carlos’ entire frame at your breathy plea. He knows you’re right, can feel that same desperate yearning driving you magnified inside himself. Every cell of his body is vibrating with the need to take you fully — heart, mind, and body aligning in euphoric harmony after so many weeks of well meaning denial.

Seizing your hips in a bruising grip, Carlos surges to his feet and simply holds you against him with easy strength. Your legs immediately wind around his waist as you giggle deliriously against his lips.

“Is this what you want, princesa?” He murmurs lowly, swaying subtly to grind his straining need over the lush juncture of your thighs in counterpoint. “For me to finally have my way with you the way we’ve both been craving?”

“Yes,” you hiss out through clenched teeth, back arching as Carlos nips and sucks a path down the slender column of your neck. “God, yes, Carlos. Will you just fuck me already? Here on the sand and beneath the open sky like something out of one of those romance novels you pretend not to love.”

The easy teasing breaks through whatever lingering threads of Carlos’ control were still intact and he growls low in his chest. In one deft motion, he divests you both of the rest of your clothes and spreads you out on the blanket before him in all your unabashed glory. His gaze tracks over your form hungrily, drinking in every dip and swell as you watch him with dark, wanting eyes.

“Princesa ...” Carlos breathes, gratified to see his own desire and reverent longing reflected back at him tenfold in your heated stare. “No more waiting, no more teasing.”

His meaning is clear even without the punctuation of sinking down to settle fully over your smaller form, blanketing you with his weight and forcing your thighs apart to cradle his hips. You immediately writhe beneath him, winding limber arms and legs around him in a vice grip that sears every point of contact between you.

“Carlos, mon cœur ...” You keen breathily into the scant space separating your lips, every word punched from you in counterpoint to the sensual roll of his hips grinding his arousal through your slick folds. “Please. I need you. Need to feel you all around me again after so long.”

He crushes his mouth to yours in answer, tongue instantly delving deep to taste the exquisite velvet heat of you. You clutch him closer even as Carlos shifts his weight to one forearm so his other hand can roam freely over every inch of bare, pebbled skin he can reach. When his calloused palm finally finds your breast and gives a rough squeeze, you shudder and cry out into his waiting lips.

There’s no more waiting after that. Carlos sheaths himself in one powerful, purposeful thrust that buries him to the hilt and your gasp dissolves into a broken moan. He stills for the briefest of moments, just reveling in the unbearably tight clutch of your molten sheath, every nerve ending alight and thrumming. Then he slowly withdraws until just the swollen head remains inside before immediately surging forward once more.

Your nails score lines of liquid fire down his back at the first deep, dragging stroke. But Carlos barely notices the delicious sting. He’s utterly consumed by the feeling of finally being surrounded by you again — hot, snug, and so utterly perfect. Every sound and shudder and arch of your form against his own is like the sweetest plea washing over him.

He sets a demanding pace, relentlessly pounding into you from that first jarring thrust onward. The only sounds are your mingled cries and the wet, obscene smack of flesh on flesh echoing out over the lapping ocean waves. Carlos wants to make sure there’s no doubt in your mind how much he’s craved every inch of you.

“There’s my good girl,” he rasps hotly against the bullet-hard peak of your nipple before laving it soothingly with his tongue. You release a strangled cry, back bowing sharply off the blanket as you clench down on him in rippling, vice-like pulses. “Fuck … taking me just how you were made to. So damn perfect, cariño.”

Your garbled whimpers and keens of his name drive Carlos to new levels of feverish intensity with each hitching breath. He snakes an arm beneath your sweat-slick lower back to position your hips at a slightly higher angle, seating himself even more deeply inside.

Every purposeful thrust now grinds against that tender cluster of nerves in a way that quickly has your eyes rolling back. You go boneless and whimpering, allowing Carlos to manhandle and use your plaint and plush form in whatever way he craves.

Pressure rapidly mounts within Carlos like an incoming tidal wave as your inner walls begin fluttering around him in telltale pulses. He can feel his own imminent release building in tandem at the base of his spine, that familiar molten curl of pleasure threatening to crest.

“That’s it, princesa,” he grits out raggedly against the sweat-slick arch of your throat. He slides the hand not anchoring your hips down to toy with the engorged pearl at your apex — drawing out a stream of sobbing wails. “Take what’s yours. Fucking milk me with that greedy little cunt. You were made for this cock, made to be split open and ruined on it over and over until you’ve got no idea where you end and I begin.”

The filthy words seems to be your undoing. With a sobbing cry of Carlos’ name, you seize up — inner walls rippling and convulsing like they’re taking him for everything he’s worth. Carlos hardens his jaw and summons the last threads of his control to keep himself from shattering apart at the very first fluttering pulse.

As the shattering waves of your release gradually crest and ebb, Carlos chases them down with powerful thrusts designed to prolong and intensify every aftershock. You writhe and whimper beneath him in overstimulated pleasure, rapidly going boneless and sated.

That’s when he finally surrenders to the smoldering inferno in his belly, hips snapping forward in a few final, erratic strokes before Carlos throws back his head and allows his own orgasm to rip through him. White-hot euphoria explodes across every nerve ending as he empties himself in heavy, throbbing pulses deep inside your spasming core.

“Ah fuck … just like that, cariño,” he rasps out hoarsely, grinding himself as deeply inside you as physically possible and simply shuddering through each exquisite contraction. “Taking every last fucking drop of me right where you were made for it ...”

Utterly spent, Carlos collapses forward with the last dregs of his stamina — just barely managing to catch himself on shaking forearms so he doesn’t crush you beneath his weight. You immediately latch onto him, peppering his flushed face with sweet kisses.

For several long moments, you simply hold each other through the aftershocks, chests heaving and bodies trembling. Carlos has never felt more peaceful or completely at ease in his entire life. His every sense is utterly surrounded and suffused by you in the most blissful of ways.

When his lashes finally flutter open, the first thing he sees is your adoring smile glowing up at him in the moonlight. It nearly steals what little breath remains in his lungs.

“Hi,” you murmur shyly. Carlos huffs out a breathless chuckle and tugs you even closer until your overwarm bodies are aligned from navel to sternum.

“Hi yourself, princesa,” he replies, just as softly against your lips before sinking into another deep, leisurely kiss that tastes equal parts salt and sex and forever.

When you part again, your eyes are sparkling with so much uncomplicated happiness that Carlos nearly melts into a useless puddle on the spot. He’s drowning and he’s never felt more gloriously unmoored.

“I love you, y’know? Like … down to the depths of my soul,” your fingers trail over the sharp jaw and cheekbones you now know better than your own.

The words should terrify Carlos with their intensity and implication. Instead, they simply roll through him in a cresting wave of overwhelming tenderness and clarity.

Of course he loves you. How could he not, when his existence now seems to revolve around your presence as the only fixed point in a dizzying orbit?

So rather than balk or deflect or shove those emotions back down, Carlos allows every infinite but of love and adoration and soul-deep need to shine through unfettered. He cradles your face between his palms and simply stares, committing every minuscule detail of this moment to memory before leaning down to brush his lips over yours in the sweetest, most loaded caress.

“I love you too, princesa,” he murmurs the words directly into your mouth like a sacrament. “With every fiber of my being. You are my everything.”

You tug him down into a heated, clinging embrace, holding him like you never intend to let go.

And at last, Carlos knows without a shadow of doubt that he never will either

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[zyafics]

play fake | part four

series play fake — ( masterlist )

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

summary when rafe cameron needs to secure a gf in order for his father to see him as a stable man, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

content 18+, eventual smut, angst, fake-dating, jealousy, people-pleasing and independent! female reader, ward cameron pinning rafe and sarah against each other, rafe being an asshole

zya's notes thank u for all your lovely comments and reblogs, i love reading them sm! this one is going to be a long one too, so please enjoy <3

dedication also, this chapter is for @rivaiken iykyk ;)

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃 ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚

The next couple of days have been radio silence. You don't try to communicate with Rafe and he doesn't try to communicate with you. You just throw yourself into your work, scolding to yourself how this was such a bad idea.

It wasn't meant to be a fuck relationship. It was meant to be fake. Nothing more than public displays of affection and going on to ignore each other behind the scenes. Rafe, himself, said that he wanted to continue doing all the shit he's doing now, just with you as a shielded layer of protection against his father.

Whenever you think back to that moment in the country club bathroom, your stomach recoils. Not because of the sex, but because of how willing you are. You always saw yourself as an independent person. Someone who can handle your own needs. You had to be; you grew up with no parental guidance and raised two younger sisters. You take care of people, you think of others. You handle everything yourself.

But you remember you were deep on your knees, ready to give him anything; when you were splay against the counter, begging him to make you come. God, you feel embarrassed by your own desire.

Maybe it's the control. Maybe it's because you're so used to it in the real world, for once, you want to give the reins to someone else. Especially in the bedroom. And Rafe perfectly takes it.

The only problem is he doesn't give it back.

Asshole.

You're behind the counter, telling Miranda about the new backlog of orders that the system hasn't placed, and a spill in one of the corners, when the bell rings, signaling the entrance of another customer.

"I'll be right with you!" You shout over your shoulders, quickly summarizing the last of the tasks for Miranda before turning to the new customer who walked in.

You plastered on your service smile, ready to take their orders.

Only to realize it was Rafe.

Your smile drops.

"What do you want, Rafe?" You ask pointedly, setting the towel down on the counter as he slides into the seat before you, a casual demeanor to his own presence.

"I need you to play the part again." He says, without so much as an apology or acknowledgement to what happened the other night. "It worked. My dad likes you."

"That's great," your voice is empty of emotions. "Are you coming here to tell me about what a perfect plan you made?"

"No," he shakes his head. "I need you to attend a party with me."

"Business?"

"No, at my house."

Your answer is immediate. "No," you say, shaking your head. "Can't make it."

"You don't even know what it is about."

"Let me guess," you cross your arms, pretending to ponder. "Your dad trusts you enough with me, so if he sees you and me at your party, he would assume I'll be able to control you and you won't push yourself over the edge?"

His reply is silent. That's how you know you're right.

"Guess my Pogue brain caught up fast enough."

You turn around to grab a small glass, pouring out a shot of tequila on the table before tipping your head backwards and taking it all in without a chaser. You need it for whatever this conservation is about to go. "I won't be able to go. I have a double shift."

"I haven't told you the day yet."

"I have double shifts all week," you declare sharply, the bitter taste burning your throat. You squint your eyes for a moment, readjusting, before you find his gaze again.

"I'll pay you."

"God, is this party that important?" You huff out of astonishment at his persistence. "The answer is still no. I don't want your money."

Rafe's brows furrow together. He doesn't understand why you're acting so cold to him. He came in with a good proposition; you wouldn't have to do any of those silly dinners with his father, all you had to do was make an appearance at a party long enough to satiate Ward and then you can do whatever the hell you want. Why are you being so difficult?

"What the fuck is your problem? Why do you have such an attitude?"

You laugh, abruptly, because this is so ironic and humorous to you that the sound rips out. The reckless prince, the man who received a collegiate degree from UNC Chapel Hill doesn't know what a Pogue is thinking.

You don't answer him, deciding to take one of the tasks off of Miranda's hands and clean up the spill yourself. It’s better than being cornered by Rafe. You move to the other side of the counter for the flip-door exit, stepping out from behind the booth.

Heading to the back to grab the supplies, Rafe follows you. Once you step into the backdoor, grabbing the mop, he slips in behind you, blocking the exit.

"You gonna talk or just avoid me all day again?"

You scoff. "That's rich coming from you."

His forehead wrinkles. He truly doesn't know. "What the fuck are you goin' on about?"

Having enough, you throw your arms out in frustration. "I'm talking about the fact that you're the one who fucked me in a bathroom after some problem with your dad," you snap, lashing out from all your pent-up anger. "You refused to talk to me. All you did was used me as your fucking toy."

He staggers back for a moment. Before a cruel smile appears on his lips.

"I remember you were begging for it."

You slap him.

It was so unprecedented, without thought, that it shocked the both of you. The next few seconds were quiet, too quiet, like it was a live wire waiting to spark.

Your voice is calm, almost deadly. "I want you to leave."

His anger comes back tenfold. It's almost a match made in hell; how your rage matches his, how he doesn't back down—but neither do you.

You were going to drive each other insane.

And some sick part of you liked it.

"When have I ever fucking talked to you, Pogue?" He snaps back with dark fury. "We're barely even friends. If I want to fuck you, and you let me, I'm taking it."

"Whenever you had a problem with your dad, you came to me, in this bar," you gesture out to the door. "You talked. I listened. That was the deal."

"We never said that in our relationship."

"Well, I'm putting it in," you declare. Approaching him, stepping a foot closer to close in the distance between the two of you. He doesn't move. He doesn't waver. He watches your step with heavy breathes, dark eyes. In a low breath, you warn, "you want to fuck other people? Fine. I don't care. You do that. They aren't the ones sticking with you, helping you with your dad. They don't have to carry the weight of you being you."

You know the last line was a hard hit, but it was true. You were tired of being seen as another Pogue, someone on the bottom of the litter meant to be used and thrown away. You need to make your stance firm.

"But if you want to fuck me," you conclude, pointing to yourself, "you talk to me, first."

He says nothing. Your anger is filling your adrenaline. It could also be the tequila. Whatever it is, you don't know what provoked you to say the next sentence.

"I wasn't on the pill, goddammit."

For a moment, sobriety reigns over Rafe's features. His eyes widened. "Did you—"

"I bought a Plan B, you asshole." You cut him off, not wanting him to think you're too stupid to think of the consequences. You knew. That's why you told him to pull out. "I wasn't going to carry your babies in me. But, it was expensive. Do you know how much that cost out of my paycheck?"

To him, that may seem like nothing. Nothing more than scraps rolling around his room, in his pockets that he could spare. But for you? That's money that could've gone to paying off your debt, to helping Sailor, to taking care of your siblings.

He remains silent.

You continue.

"You cover for me however you want. You host that party if you want to so fucking badly. But I can't do it. I have work."

You push past Rafe and he lets you, grabbing the mop out of the corner and stepping back into the open atmosphere of your bar. You may hate the noise that comes from the place, but it was better than being suffocated in a room with him.

Rafe quietly follows after you after you return behind the counter.

He looked like he wanted to say something more, but his words were not coming out. His gaze flicks to you, jaw clenched.

"I... I didn't know," his voice is a whisper, almost indistinguishable, that you can't help but let out a bitter chuckle.

"Yeah," you agree. "Because you refused to talk to me."

He says nothing, muted by his own anger, looking down at his hands, before he walks out of the bar. He doesn't bid farewell and you don't expect him to. All you know is he's going to get shit-faced soon and you had nothing to do with it.

—

As you are helping your little sister with her math homework—where all her struggles were about multiplication tables and recognizing whether a fraction is improper—you miss the early days of your life. Where you don't have to think about anything else.

About the bills. About the loans. About how to take care of your siblings.

About a stupid Kook prince you can't get out of your mind.

Your baby sister is seated on the couch, reading some children's book that you made a couple of years ago, stringed together with yarns and colored pencils. Her delicate voice echoes through the joint living room, sounding out the words on her own as she heard you read them million of times before.

Your sister, Amara, pulls you back to reality as she taps your arm, pointing to her problem on the kitchen counter that she's struggling with. She points to the question, reciting her logic of how she got there, and you return with praising her thought process but reminding her of her multiplication tables.

"Ohhhh," her voice drags, giggling at the realization. "I see."

You chuckle softly, laying your chin on her small shoulder and picking up your phone off the counter. While she fixes her mistake, you scroll through social media.

A notification flashes at the top of your screen.

topperthornton: hey

Why the fuck is another Kook sliding into your DMs?

you: hello?

He quickly responds, asking if you are your name.

you: why?

topperthornton: idk if u know but rafe is hosting a party tn

you: so i heard

topperthornton: well, you should come

you: i don't think so, white boy

topperthornton: it's rafe.. he's asking about u

Something in your chest sputters. You pretend it's not your heart.

you: ?? for what

You hope you didn't come off too eager. You don't want to be. You should be pissed, goddammit, but something about knowing Rafe, drunk right now, is thinking about you, makes you weak.

You hate it.

topperthornton: idk what happened between the two of u but he's drunk and crossed out of his mind and he's just been rambling about u

You stare at the text for a hot minute, before another one follows.

topperthornton: u need to come immediately

Fucking hell.

You know you shouldn’t. You just came out of a long, tiresome shift. You have siblings to take care of. You have a math problem that has yet been corrected. But, something in your chest caves. The idea that Rafe needs help, that he's asking for you specifically, and you aren't coming? Makes you uneasy. 

You have to go.

There's no other way around it.

Scrambling, you pull your Amara off your lap as you run out the door and race down the block. When you stop in front of Pope's house, you pound your fist against the door, praying someone is home.

It's Pope.

"Hey," he greets. "What's up?"

"I know this is last minute but I need you to watch the kids," you announce breathlessly. His eyes follow you, concerned.

"Everything okay?"

"It's fine," you wave off. "I just have to go somewhere and I don't know how long I'll be. Amara is doing her math homework and Leilani is just reading a book. They're really sweet, I promise."

Pope laughs you off casually. "I know," he says with a smile. "I've babysat them before."

"So," you string the words together slowly, hoping your anxiety isn't coming off too strong. You don't want Pope to feel obligated. "Can you... do it?"

He nods. "Of course. Pogues help each other out."

You smile, pulling him into a quick hug, before handing him the spare key to your house. He heads over to take care of your siblings while you run to your beaten-down car, reversing out the road.

When you arrived at Tannyhill, you truly underestimated how large the party was going to be. People crowded all over, dancing, swinging, just having a reckless and wild time at Rafe Cameron's place. While you know you should be slightly embarrassed by the long pajama pants and braless baggy tee you're wearing right now, feeling overdressed, you step out of the car and head inside.

Topper spots you at the porch.

"Thank God," he mumbles under his breath. "He's been out of it."

You wonder if Topper knows about your arrangement with Rafe.

"Yeah," you nod. "Where is he?"

"I put him in his room with some water but I gotta tell you, he's wasted. Some of the things he says... may not be tasteful."

You scoff. We've already crossed that bridge. "I think I'll be fine."

Without another word, Topper pulls away and you head up the familiar stairs of the estate, descending down the hallway you were here just days ago. It feels, for some reason, like a lifetime since you visited.

You knock on the door, twice, to no answer. Deciding to go for it—praying you won't walk into some lewd act—you step into the room to find it peacefully quiet. Rafe laid out on the mattress, his eyes closed.

You scan the room, trying to see if there's any destruction—any thrown chairs or broken bottles—to find everything in the same condition as you visited prior. The only difference is a pink bag, sitting in his drawer with a bouquet of flowers sticking out.

Your stomach twists in jealousy as you wonder who that could be for. At what fool is receiving such gifts or who gave him such.

When you peek inside, you notice a couple of things: a white envelope, a bundle of red tulips, and like ten-plus stacks of Plan B.

You stiffen your laugh. You realize the fool is you.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach.

The bed creaks and you jump at the sound, seeing Rafe pulling himself up on the mattress into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes to clear his vision, before he finds you, standing in front of him.

He says your name. He thinks he's hallucinating from the drugs.

"Yeah," you nod, cautiously approaching him as his glazed eyes follow your every move. "It's me."

"I thought you said you had a double shift."

He didn't mean for his words to come off so sharp.

"I locked up an hour ago." You explain, brushing past his aggravation.

Rafe nods at your explanation, but his movements are sluggish. Lag. He truly is out of it. You're surprised he went this hard.

His head hangs, staring at his lap, before he asks quietly. "What are you doing here?"

You shrug. You don't know either. You thought he needed help. The idea of him asking for you, but you weren't there for him, kills something inside of you. But, you can't say that. Not after everything you said to him. Not after what this relationship is based on.

You are nothing more than a fake girlfriend.

"Topper said you needed help," you evade any sense of responsibility. Of care. "He texted me."

His jaw clenches, and he looks up at you. "Top has your number?"

"No. He found my Instagram," you answer, wondering if that is jealousy you hear. But, you settle that it can't possibly be the case. "He DM'd me and I came over."

Now it's your turn to be vulnerable.

"I thought you needed help."

Rafe scoffs, bitterly, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Unless you can get this headache out of my heart, I don't think there's much you can do, sweetheart."

You nod, your feet shift to the door, ready to leave. If this is all, if that's all Topper is worried about, Rafe should be fine.

"Come here."

You find yourself listening. Again. Your feet pads against the hardwood floor as you streamline over to him, stopping just in front of his legs hanging off the ledge of the mattress. His head tilts up to meet your gaze; his cloudy blue eyes staring back at you. You bite back a thought.

"I know something that would make me feel better."

You scoff at the suggestive tone. "Let me guess: fuck?"

"Sit on my lap."

You hesitate for a moment. You don't want to be another fuck. But, when his hand lands on the side of your thigh, gentle and earnest, you relent.

Slowly, you settle onto Rafe's lap, both legs on either side of his waist. Your body facing him, and despite him in the lower position, he meets you at eye level.

"Better?" You tilt your head, watching his shoulders unwind every-so-slightly.

"Much." He murmurs, his eyes tracing your face. "God, you're gorgeous."

You flush, knocking a weak palm against his broad shoulder. "Shut up," you say, feeling anything but. You're wearing scraps for clothing, something you planned to go straight to bed—not attend an extravagant party hosted by one of the island's finest.

"I'm fucking serious." He snaps, but his voice doesn't have that hard edge. You blame that on the alcohol too. "I saw all those girls tonight. And yet, here you are, in your fucking pajamas and getting me hard."

You scoff, turning away. "So it does lead back to sex."

"No, it means that they pale in comparison to you," he cups your chin, gently, pulling your gaze back to him. "I'm serious, sweetheart. Believe me."

You're afraid that if you move up against his lap, coming closer, you would feel his erection. Not to mention, if you do, you don't know if you're going to start dry-humping him like you did the other day. But, you remain firm on your stance.

You're not going to let him fuck you unless he talks to you.

The atmosphere thins into a silence, as you take in the low hums of the downstairs party blasting in distant music.

"How was the party?" You ask, probing for a conversation starter. "Was it everything you dreamed of?"

He scoffs. "You're looking at it. I basically drank and smoked until I got sick."

His vices. At least you didn't have to hear about the women he hooked up with, if that's the case. Something deep inside of you hope there isn't.

You nod silently, finding your fingers tracing the outline of his shoulders, your nails scraping against his hot skin and trailing up the crook of his neck. Rafe lets his eyes flutter close for a moment, breathing in a shaky breath.

"Don't do that."

"Why?" You ask, genuinely curious. "I'm just tracing."

"Because anything from you right now feels good," he confesses quietly, and your breath caught in your throat. You hand stills. "Fuck, don't stop."

"You're going to have to give me one signal here, Rafe," you roll your eyes. "You can't say green and red light at the same time."

He pauses for a moment. Contemplating your words.

"Green," he whispers. "Definitely green."

You return to your outline of Rafe's silhouette. He lets you. He says nothing as you follow down to the curve of his arms, skimming against his defined biceps and the muscles instinctively flex under your touch. It made you smile. You pretend you aren't proud of it.

This is done in complete silence.

Then, out of nowhere, Rafe confesses, "I shouldn't have touched you like that."

You freeze. You knew immediately what he was referring to.

"I—I was out of it. I took it out on you."

He still doesn't get it.

You abandon your artwork and use both hands to cup the underside of his jaw, forcing him to tilt his gaze and look up at you. With a sigh, you say, "that wasn't the problem." Your eyes study his face, "it was the fact that you didn't talk to me or explain to me what happened."

His gaze is broken; so incredibly so. The whites of his irises are a faint shade of red, bringing out the deep set of his blue eyes.

"I need to know these things, Rafe." You continue gently. "It's not about me being nosy, or a bitch, or anything. If I'm getting into something with you, I need to know the full picture so I can help you." You swallow your voice as you mumble out the next one. "So you can help me."

You hope he doesn't know the strain in your tone, how hard it was to say those words. You hope he doesn't press on it.

"Okay." Rafe nods, dipping his chin into your palms. "I get it."

"Easier said than done, darling."

Rafe knows it is. He's been struggling to string words together before you came into his life, much less with you in it. But, he was willing to try.

He begins at the dinner. With a stumbled start, he explains how Ward doesn't think he was good enough for you.

You stop him to ask questions. "He said that?"

"No," Rafe shakes his head. "But it's the look on his face. It's—the way he acted. You should've seen how he looked at me when he complimented you, like I'll never compare."

You frown at those words; you didn't even notice.

When he satisfied your questions, Rafe continued on with his story. Rambling further. Each word spilling out easier than the last. He assumed it's because of the alcohol, or the drugs, or perhaps it was neither altogether and it was just you. All in all, he knew.

It was easiest to talk to you.

It reminded him of the bar. He put himself in that setting. His words tumbles out of him with the impression that you won't share it with anyone else. The idea that you were just you, a bartender, who probably had to deal with this shit a thousand-times-over with other talkative customers. That it was you, who he is confessing a vulnerable part to, without the retaliation of judgment.

Rafe breakdowns the comments Ward made. The little conversation they shared after dinner, when you were helping with the caterers. Your clothes. It all became too much to him; like he was the problem. That nothing he did was good enough. His mind was spiraling by that time and having nothing else to pour it into—the drinks, the drugs, the partying—all he had was you.

And he used that to his advantage.

You listen intently, nodding along and following his words without further interruption. Only on things you truly need to clarify. When he finished, even with his incoherent noises and words, something in his chest lightens. It feels more at peace.

You stare at him for a few moments, digesting the information. A protectiveness forms in the pit against your stomach because fuck Ward, you decided. Sure, there may have been admiration from your end about his ability to become a Kook but that means shit now. You hate how he treats Rafe. You hate how you didn't notice.

"God, your dad is a dick."

Rafe doesn't agree like you expect him to. His gaze hardens, like he can't stand you insulting him. You realized, in that moment, you crossed a line. That he may harbor all these hurt and anger and resentment, at the end of the day, it's still his father.

"Sorry," you mumble softly. "I didn't mean it like—"

"I know what you mean."

That came out with an edge.

You swallow, deciding that you should leave. Maybe you being here isn't the right decision. Your legs are starting to cramp from their overstretched position and the inside of your thighs burn from the overuse. You peel your hands off his shoulders and slowly will yourself off of Rafe's lap.

"I should go," you declare, glancing at the exit.

Something in his chest tightens. He wasn't mad. He just wasn't used to regulating his emotions, especially about his father. All he knows is that he doesn't want you to leave.

"Wait," Rafe declares as you pause in front of his bedroom door. He stammers for an excuse. "I never made you come."

Your eyes slightly widen from the suggestion. "It's fine," you say, even though, in that moment, a small part of you hated him for that. "I... I finished myself off when I got home."

The image of you, in your bed, alone, touching yourself to relieve your aches, does something to him. Both in guilt and in arousal.

"No," he raises from his bed, approaching you. Now, with him standing on his own two feet, he towers over you—dominating and intimidating. "It's only fair. I should give back."

"Rafe," you place a hand on his chest, laughing awkwardly, because you don't know how you feel about him pleasuring you. "It's fine. It's not a tit-for-tat thing. You don't owe me anything."

He feels frustrated again. That's not what he meant.

"Fine." He snaps. "You want my words? I want to make you come. I want you to feel as good as I did that day."

You stare at him, the air stolen from your lungs, not knowing what to say. Then, suddenly, an idea occurs to you and a sly smile rises to your lips.

"You want to help me come?" You ask sweetly, watching as he nods his head like an obedient dog. "Okay."

Your hands travel down to the hem of his pants, to his belt, and unbuckle them. Rafe's face conveys surprise, that you're so eager to accept, and when you pull out the leather strap, you stop. Just for a moment, you glance back, asking in confirmation. "My pleasure, right?"

He doesn't know what you're trying to do, but he nods anyway.

"Turn around."

Rafe does what you say. You take both of his wrists into one of your hands—a struggle that Rafe had to assist with—and pins them behind his back. Using the belt, you tie them together.

"Sweetheart..." His voice is low, unsure of how you're able to proceed, but the arousal travels through his body at the uncertainty.

"Trust me." You whisper, buckling them into a firm lock. When you walk back around to face Rafe, your panties dampen at the sight before you: him, standing tall, with his arms pinned behind him, almost helpless. "Sit."

Rafe takes the seat on the desk chair you pulled out, his bounded arms touching the back of the seat as his focus is pinned on you, standing before his bed.

You let out a shaky breath, excitement bubbling in your stomach at the idea of what's about to happen, before your fingers hook to the band of your pants, slowly pulling them down to your ankles. He watches every little move; like a strip tease catered specifically for him. Something he can see. Something he can't touch.

Rafe can feel his erection hardens in his jeans.

"What are you doing?" Rafe's voice is rough and once you step out of your pants, revealing the white panties underneath, he groans at the sight.

"I'm going to make myself feel good," you declare evenly, trying to calm your racing heart, "and you're going to watch."

His Adam's apple bobs. "How do I help?"

"I look at you as I do."

A complaint lodged in his throat but you caught it before he proceeded. "My pleasure, right?" You remind him, to which he, with great reluctance, nods.

You leave your shirt on, deciding it would be unnecessary to take off, and settle down on his bed. Your back pressed against the mattress, you position yourself comfortably in a way that allows Rafe to watch.

And he's watching.

"Are you going to use your fingers?" Rafe asks, deciding that he needs to talk to keep him sane.

"Mhm," you answer, spreading your legs. Arousal licks up your stomach as you feel the cool air brushes the inside of your thighs, raising goosebumps against your skin. You feel the urge to laugh to dispel some discomfort in your body, at how intense Rafe is studying you, but you choose not to. "I might only use two. It'll be tight."

Fuck, Rafe thought.

With a tentative hand, you brush your fingers against your panties, feeling your wetness forming a spot. The light touches ignites heat in your core and your eyes flutter close for a second.

"Look at me." Rafe commands, trying to regain some control. It doesn't work, but you listen anyway.

You watch him as you continue to stroke yourself, pressing against your clothed pussy, not quite entering, as a light coat of your slick covers your fingers. You tip your head back with a small moan.

"Sweetheart," he groans, "stop torturing yourself."

When he truly means to stop torturing him.

You pull your hand back and stuff your fingers into your mouth to cover with saliva, tasting the faintness of your arousal, before returning back to your pussy. Pushing the drenched fabric to the side, a forefinger slips inside easily.

A whimper escapes you, your back arching slightly from the intrusion of your touch. Rafe's breath hitches in his throat as he watches you steadily pump yourself, in-and-out with one digit. You focus on your own pleasure, how good it feels, with the heightened sensitivity of Rafe's attention all on you.

And he's fucking hard.

Rafe watches as you spread your wet folds, slipping in another finger to your tight cunt. It kills him that he can't do anything about it. 

"I bet my fingers would fill you more," he offers seductively, trying to remind you of his existence. That he can do it too. You laugh softly, not taking the bait. "What are you thinking about?"

"How good this feels," you whisper, hearing the sound of your wetness squelching in the air. You mewl. "You."

Rafe grunts at the confession. You try to keep your eyes set on him, to remember what you're doing, who you're doing it with, but the build-up is causing you to lose control and makes you close your eyes.

"Eyes." He demands, his voice sharper than before. You open them with great resistance, each second longer is a struggle to keep them focused on him. 

"Oh, god," you moan, quickening your pace as you connect your gaze with Rafe. The way he looking at you right now. It reminds you of the night at Topper's house, the time in the country club's bathroom. "Yes, yes, fuck."

He can't stand this. He's straining against his jeans, his cock painfully hard without any relief, while his wrists are bound and reddened by how tight you locked him in. How he's pushing against the leather, trying to break free.

You close your eyes again in pleasure. Your orgasm is getting close.

Rafe swallows hard. "You feelin' good, sweetheart?"

You nod eagerly, flicking your gaze back to him. "You enjoying the view?"

He clenches his jaw, not responding, but you can tell. The impressive outline of his bulge against his pants, how hungry his eyes are. How much he wants you.

It lights something carnal within you. You start to pump harder and faster inside your pussy, your moan growing louder and without inhibition; Rafe's very own porn show in front of him.

He has enough.

"I need to touch you." Rafe declares desperately, rising from his chair, his eyes never straying from the perfect image of you, on his bed, fucking yourself, writhing in ecstasy. "Come on, sweetheart, I can—fuck—I can make you feel so much better."

He's bargaining, goddammit.

A small laugh leaves you, mixed in with the sound of your own pleasure, and you don't acknowledge his comment. His pleads. He steps forward, closing the distance between the two of you.

Rafe growls out your name.

You glance up at him through a heavy-lidded gaze. "Hmm?" You say innocently, pulling your hand out of your pussy. His eyes glance down at your slickness glistening off your fingers, his chest tightening.

"Say yes." He demands weakly, his voice rough and filled with so much restraint, like he's seconds away from losing it. "Tell me I can touch you."

You pull yourself to your knees, bending before him, your smile full of satisfaction. "You want me that badly, baby?"

He doesn't even bother denying it anymore. "Yes."

"My pleasure, right, baby?"

"Fuck, yes," he groans. "Please."

You grin, bringing your wet fingers to his mouth and pressing it against his full lips. He takes you in, sucking your arousal clean from your hand, his eyes still on yours, and you, finally, finally nod.

"You can touch me."

Rafe breaks his belt buckle in one swift motion, surprising you, before his hands immediately cover your body, grabbing at any flesh he can find. His mouth claims yours, pulling you into a hungry kiss and pushing you back against the mattress as his weight pins you down.

"You can't get enough of me." You tease, moaning at how good he tastes, how you can taste yourself on him, and your fingers find his hair. When he breaks, his hard eyes land on your face.

"You don't know how fucking badly I want to punish you right now," he confesses lowly, his hand lowering to the space between your legs. "For torturing me like that."

"It doesn't feel good, does it?"

Rafe scoffs, capturing your cheeks in one large hand, squeezing them together. He runs the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, mumbling, "this fucking mouth."

You provoke further. "You love it."

He doesn't answer you, silencing himself with a bruising kiss against your lips and sucking all the air out of your lungs. When his hand lands on your pussy, his fingers begin to run tight circles around your clit, causing you to arch into him.

"Oh, god," you moan into his mouth as he swallows the sound. Breaking from the kiss to glance down, he watches at how responsive your body is, how you're writhing under his touch, and smirks.

"Feels good?"

"So good," you whisper needily, "please keep doing that."

Rafe descends down your body, kissing a trail from the navel of your stomach to your wet cunt, aching and waiting just for him. "I'm going to make you come on my fingers, tongue, and face. Think you can do that for me, sweetheart?"

He doesn't give you time to answer, covering his mouth over your swollen nub and sucks.

"Oh, fuck," your hips involuntarily bucks against his face. He grins against your pussy, in satisfaction, at how good he's making you feel. At how good you taste. To be denied of this, for the past hour, was torture. He wants to pleasure and punish you, all in one. "Don't stop, don't stop."

Your legs wrap around his head in a lock as he ascends you towards your peak, slipping two thick fingers into your pussy. The size makes your walls clench around them. Rafe groans, the vibration against your clit pushing you further into your climax.

"Please don't stop, please." You moan in desperation, afraid of him pulling out again, tipping your head back against his pillows, your fingers gripping his hair harder. Rafe twists his fingers, entering at a new angle, allowing the cool sensation of his ring against your hot cunt and amplifies your sensitivity.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby."

Rafe quickens his pace, his fingers thrusting in with precision and hitting all the right spots. In addition, he slurps harder, tonguing your clit in a way that causes stars to blanket your vision. Writhing in pleasure, you moan and whimper, racing towards your orgasm. 

"Come for me," he commands, feeling your walls twitching towards a desperate end, “let me hear my girl."

You release with a heavy cry, coming on his face and slumping back against the bed from pure exhaustion. Combined with the day you had, the double shifts you've been pulling, and the incredible orgasm you're given, all you want to do is sleep.

"Get up," Rafe declares, but you don't move. "Come on, sweetheart."

"Give me five minutes," you yawn, holding out five fingers while your eyes flutter. "I just need to..."

You don't finish your sentence, closing your eyes for a brief moment. That's what you tell yourself, and the last thing you remember before you fall completely in your slumber. 

— read part five —

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[parkerslatte]

Drawn To You

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: none.

Summary: When Y/N met Azriel, she felt the mating bond snap into place. The only issue is that he seems happy with Elain so Y/N tries her best to stay out of his way no matter how much it hurts her.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

The moment Y/N met Azriel, she felt it. The feeling she had wanted to feel for a long time. In her nearly six hundred years of living, Y/N had given up the hope that she would ever meet her mate. She probably didn’t even have one, and she had come to accept that. Until the shadowsinger appeared. 

After seeking her out to help heal the general, Rhysand had called on Y/N whenever Madja was unavailable. At first Y/N hadn’t minded, she enjoyed being around everyone as they slowly began to invite her on nights out. Y/N felt herself becoming friends with them, or as close to friends as she could. 

It wasn’t until one night when the shadowsinger appeared from a long mission that Y/N felt it. 

***

Y/N sipped her wine as she seated herself next to Mor. The blonde moving to top her wine up despite Y/N not even being finished with the glass she already had. Y/N didn’t talk much while everyone was in a large group. She preferred to simply listen and pitch in wherever it felt appropriate. Even though she had been hanging around the Inner Circle for a couple of months now, she still felt like she couldn’t join in with much of the teasing and joking around. 

Everyone’s attention diverted to where the doors of the room opened and the shadowsinger stood in the threshold. He looked exhausted though happy to see his family. As everyone rose to greet him, Y/N remained in her seat, she didn’t want to impose. 

Y/N’s eyes gazed down at her now too-full glass of wine before lifting it up and took a long sip, not noticing everyone taking their places back on the couches. 

“We haven’t met before,” Azriel spoke to Y/N. 

Y/N nearly spilt her wine, surprised by someone standing so close and speaking to her. She still thought everyone was gathered by the door. 

With a nod of her head, Y/N looked up to where Azriel was standing. He looked almost angelic as the light from the chandelier shone from behind him, giving him a halo of light. Which Y/N thought was ironic considering he was the shadowsinger. 

But that was the moment she felt it. The bond snapped into place. Y/N nearly split her wine again. 

“No, no, we haven’t,” Y/N said. “I’m Y/N. I’m a healer.”

It was obvious that the bond hadn’t snapped for Azriel as he only gave her a small nod and took a seat next to her on the couch. Y/N tried to ignore it but she couldn’t, the feeling grew across her entire body, especially since Azriel was sitting so close to her. 

“Where are Feyre, Elain and Nesta?” Azriel asked, looking around the group, noticing the absence of the High Lady and her two sisters. 

“A sisterly night at Rita’s,” Rhysand answered, leaning back in his chair. 

Azriel only nodded and sipped the drink that Cassian had thrust in his hand. 

Y/N was still staring at her drink, she hadn’t tried to join in the conversation, nor did she even listen. Her mate was sitting next to her and she couldn’t believe anything was real anymore. The dress she wore seemed to cling to her skin and suffocate her. She craved fresh air. 

After playing her glass of wine on the table, Y/N rose to her feet causing attention to divert to her. 

“I’m going to go home,” Y/N announced. 

More reached out and clutched her hand. “Why? You haven’t finished your wine.”

“I’m just tired,” Y/N lied and hoped that no one would be able to pick up on it. “I’ll see you all soon.”

Without another word, Y/N began to walk out of the room. She felt a scratch down her mental shields but she didn’t allow Rhys in, afraid that she would accidentally let him know what she knew. And she wasn’t ready for that. 

The air was cold and Y/N tried to wrap her arms around herself for warmth but it was futile. Her pace quickened as she walked down the empty street. Y/N’s flat wasn’t too far away but with no one else around and only the sound of the wind howling, it made the walk much longer than it normally was. 

“They were worried about you,” Azriel said as he soundlessly approached Y/N.

Y/N jumped at the presence of the shadowsinger. “Azriel! What are you doing here?”

“Rhys asked me to walk you home,” Azriel said, folding his hands behind his back. 

Y/N didn’t want him to walk her home. Just being near him made her heart race. If he questioned it she could easily blame it on the fright he gave her but not for too long. 

“I don’t need anyone to accompany me,” Y/N mumbled. “I’m perfectly fine on my own.”

“Is that why you missed the turning to your street?” Azriel asked.

Y/N stopped dead in her tracks and looked around. There was a reason why the walk seemed to be taking longer than usual and it wasn’t just the silence or wind. It was because she had been so distracted that she had completely missed the street she lived down and continued further into the city. 

“I was just taking the long way,” Y/N said, holding her head high as she turned around and began to walk back the way she came. 

Azriel let out what sounded like a quiet laugh. It caused Y/N’s heart to flutter. She needed to get away from Azriel as soon as possible. 

“You can return to the other’s,” Y/N said. “I’m sure you have a lot of catching up to do.”

“That can wait until tomorrow,” Azriel replied, walking side by side with her. “My priority now is getting you home safe.”

Y/N sighed and turned to look up at Azriel. Which was a mistake as he was looking down at her. “I’m not winning this, am I?”

Azriel shook his head, a hint of a smile toying at the corners of his lips. “Not in a million years.”

Y/N huffed in amusement. “Stubborn male.”

There was amusement shining in Azriel’s eyes and Y/N had to tear her gaze away. Being alone to process that she had a mate was what she needed, having Azriel standing right beside her wasn’t helping her in any way. However she knew that no matter what she said, he wouldn’t leave her until she was safely at her doorstep. Every time Y/N quickened her pace, Azriel did. Every time she slowed down, Azriel did the same. 

“I only live at the end of the street,” Y/N spoke up. “I am fine to get home alone.”

“Rhys ordered me to bring you to your doorstep,” Azriel replied. 

“You really don’t need to,” Y/N said. 

“They were quite worried about you when you abruptly left,” Azriel said, repeating the words he said when he first made himself known. “They said that it was out of character for you.”

“How would they know? They’ve only known me for a couple of months.” The words were harsher than Y/N originally intended and she was mortified speaking about the group in such a way when all they had shown her was kindness.

Azriel wasn’t phased as he continued. “A couple of months can still be a good judge of character. Even I believe that it seemed out of character for you and I’ve known you for barely ten minutes.”

Y/N rubbed her upper arms. “I am just tired tonight.”

Azriel looked as if he didn’t believe her but didn’t push.

Y/N’s gaze was fixated on the cobblestone ground as she walked.The cold temperature made her shiver as she walked, making the hair on her arms stand on end. Though she wasn’t sure if that was from the cold or was because of Azriel. 

Before Y/N could continue to shiver in the plummeting temperature, warmth encased her as Azriel’s wing wrapped around her. Y/N glanced up at Azriel who didn’t even look at her as the two continued to walk. Y/N now stood even closer to Azriel than she wanted but she was thankful for the warmth he provided. 

“I live just up there,” Y/N pointed out and Azriel simply nodded. “Thank you for walking me home. Even if you didn’t need to.”

Azriel tucked his wing back and Y/N immediately missed its warmth. “It was no problem.”

Y/N tilted her head up to face him. He looked tired when she had first seen him but now he truly looked as if he were about to pass out on his feet. There were dark circles under his eyes now more visible in the light from the streetlamps outside of her home. 

“I suggest that you rest for a while,” Y/N said. “You look as if you are about to pass out on my doorstep.”

Azriel tried to suppress a yawn but failed. He gave Y/N a shy smile. “I think you may be right.” 

Y/N stood awkwardly in front of him. Despite her wanting to originally leave the house to escape him, she now couldn’t find it within herself to let him leave. Azriel didn’t move from his position in front of her, he didn’t make the move to leave. 

“Do you want to stay? I have a spare room you can stay in.” Y/N blurted out. “You did go out of your way to walk me home and you simply look exhausted, it is honestly the least I can do. I also don’t want to be responsible for falling from the sky because you passed out.”

Y/N fiddled with the rings on her fingers and avoided eye contact with Azriel, missing the smile that appeared on his face. 

“Thank you,” Azriel said sincerely. “I appreciate your offer.”

Y/N quickly glanced up at him before unlocking her front door. “The spare bedroom is just down the hall. The bathroom is the door next to it, feel free to use whatever in there you wish.”

Azriel thanked her once more before following her directions down the hall and entered the bedroom. He did not exit again. 

Y/N made her way to her own bedroom and flopped down on the bed. Her mate was sleeping just a few doors down from her. Her mate. Never in her entire existence did Y/N think she would have a mate and he had just walked into her life so casually. She was unsure of how to process it. The bond clearly hadn’t snapped for Azriel and Y/N didn’t exactly want to bring it up to him as they had only just met. Although she did invite him into her house. 

Y/N sighed and slipped out of her dress and pulled on her nightgown and climbed under the covers. She closed her eyes and willed herself to go to sleep. Y/N laid awake basically all night. 

***

Azriel was gone by the time Y/N woke in the morning. He had left a note with a small cake from the bakery down the street. Y/N’s heart swelled at the thought of him even writing a note to thank her and because he had left to get her a cake and came back to the house to leave it on a small plate from her kitchen. He already wasn’t making it easy for her to process everything. 

Y/N had already decided to have a relaxing day to herself. There was a book Nesta had given her that she wanted to read and the day was perfect for it. She settled into her armchair and draped her blanket across her knees when she felt the tap against her mental shields. With a sigh, Y/N lowered them. 

What do you want, Rhys?

Elain was hurt while she was in the garden. 

Is she okay?

She seems to be but the cut is quite deep. 

Y/N sighed. I’ll be there soon.

***

Y/N stood before Elain and inspected the cut on the back of her hand. It was deep and parts of the thorn had seemed to be trapped inside the cut. Elain winced whenever Y/N pulled a piece out. 

“I’m sorry,” Y/N muttered. “There’s just a few more pieces before I can heal the cut over.”

Elain nodded as Y/N picked out the other thorns and wiped them onto a tissue next to her. 

“Rhys mentioned that you left early last night,” Elain said. 

Y/N sighed. “Did he tell everyone?”

“He just wanted to know if you were okay,” Elain said. “And so do I. It’s unlike you to abruptly leave somewhere.”

Y/N had become close friends with the middle Archeron sister. When Y/N didn’t have anything to do, she would normally sit with Elain in her garden and talk. It was nice having a friend. Y/N had never been too close with anyone before, preferring her own company over a large group. 

“I was just tired,” Y/N said. “I just wanted to lie down and sleep.”

Elain’s gaze lifted to meet Y/N’s, her eyes calculating, deciding whether to believe her or not. “If anything is going on,you can tell me.You are my friend.”

“Elain!” A voice interrupted anything Y/N was going to say. 

Azriel came around the corner and halted once he noticed Y/N sitting with Elain. “Y/N? I didn’t know you would be here.”

“Rhys asked me to take a look at Elain’s hand,” Y/N said, trying to stop her racing heart.

“What happened?” Azriel asked, walking further into the room.

“I just cut it on a thorn in the garden,” Elain answered. “It’s nothing too bad.”

Azriel came closer until he sat down in the seat next to Y/N. She tried her best to block him out but it was hard. 

“That is the last thorn out,” Y/N said and wiped it on the tissue. 

Y/N held Elain’s hand in between hers. “You might feel a small sting but nothing too bad.”

Y/N closed her eyes and let her power shine, quite literally. A golden glow emitted from between Y/N’s fingers as she healed Elain’s hand. She could feel her power flowing into the cut and weaving the skin back together. 

Both Azriel and Elain watched in amazement as the glow died down and Y/N pulled her hands away. All that remained of the cut was a thin red line.

“That should fade within the next few days,” Y/N said, gently running her finger across the newly healed cut. 

“That’s amazing!” Elain said, admiring the healed injury. 

Y/N smiled. “It truly is a gift I am grateful to possess.”

“Does it hurt anymore?” Azriel asked, looking from Elain’s eyes and back to her cut. 

Elain flexed her hand. “No, it doesn’t. Thank you, Y/N.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” Y/N replied and leaned back in her chair, her arm lightly brushing Azriel’s, who still hadn’t taken his eyes from Elain. 

“Is there something you wanted, Azriel?” Elain questioned. 

Azriel looked startled for a brief moment but it was hardly noticeable. Y/N only noticed as she was sitting so close to him. 

“I just… wanted to make sure you were okay,” Azriel said. “Rhys told me what happened.”

“Oh, that’s kind of you,” Elain said with a small smile. “I am quite all right now, thanks to Y/N.”

Y/N suddenly felt like she was interrupting something. Clearing her throat, she stood up. “If I’m no longer needed, I’m going to leave. I was in the middle of something when Rhys summoned me here.”

Azriel didn’t tear his gaze away from Elain as Y/N bid them goodbye and it made Y/N’s heart fall the smallest amount. Once she was a safe distance away, Y/N let out a sigh. 

The way Azriel looked at Elain and the way he came rushing when he was told she was injured communicated enough to Y/N. Elain was her friend and she wasn’t going to stand in the middle of her and Azriel. Even though it pained Y/N. She had finally met her mate and he was already taken with another. 

Y/N dragged her feet all the way back to her home.

***

The next few weeks were torture for Y/N. As much as she tried to avoid Azriel, he always seemed to appear. The first few times, Y/N had genuine excuses to not talk to him. But the more he appeared the more she was running out of them and the more ridiculous they became. 

Staying away from Azriel had become a task that pained Y/N the more and more she did it. Azriel would always go out of his way to talk to her whenever the entire Inner Circle were together and Y/N was only happily listening in. When she was treating injuries, he would appear with her favourite dessert from the bakery near her home. 

Everything he did made it hurt her more whenever she would see him with Elain. They would be talking in hushed voices that would instantly stop whenever Y/N walked into the room, interrupting whatever lovers' conversation they were having. She would always notice the small glances Azriel and Elain would send each other. It became hard to be around them. 

Y/N and Azriel were sitting together in Elain’s garden. No one else was around and Y/N wished that they were. Her heart was beating rapidly once more, Azriel had to surely pick up on it. Every time she was around him, her own body seemed to betray her. 

“I should get going,” Y/N said. 

“You always do this,” Azriel said and Y/N stilled.

“Do what?” Y/N questioned.

“Whenever we are alone together you find an excuse to leave,” Azriel said. “Do you not want to be around me or something?”

“No, it’s not that–”

“Then what is it?” 

Y/N stuttered over her words trying to find an answer. “I-I can’t tell you.”

Azriel scoffed. “I have been trying to get to know you Y/N, I have been going out of my way to talk to you and get to know you and you shoot me down every single time. Tell me why.”

“Azriel,” Y/N said softly. “I can’t. If you were in my position you would understand.”

“Then tell me,” Azriel said standing up,his voice rising in volume. “Tell me so I can understand. And don’t you dare say that you can’t.”

“If you were in my position and your mate was clearly in love with someone else then you wouldn’t stand in the way of that either.” Y/N snapped. 

Azriel stilled. “Mate? You are my mate?”

Y/N shook her head before stepping around Azriel. “I didn’t want to tell you Azriel. I didn’t want to ruin anything between you and Elain. It hasn’t snapped for you yet so you can just pretend this conversation never happened.”

“Y/N–” Azriel reached out his hand but Y/N stepped away and didn’t turn around again. 

***

Azriel was still in the garden when Elain returned. He sat back in the chair and was staring ahead.

“Where did Y/N go?” Elain questioned. “Did you finally tell her?”

Azriel finally looked to Elain, there were unshed tears in his eyes and Elain’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

“What’s wrong?” Elain asked. 

“She’s my mate,” Azriel said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Elain smiled. “That’s a good thing, it’s what you’ve always wanted.”

Azriel shook his head. “She thinks that I am in love with you.”

“Oh,” Elain said. “Did you tell her that she is sorely mistaken?”

“She didn’t give me a chance,” Azriel said. “I-I don’t know what to do.”

Elain reached out and took Azriel’s hand and held it between hers. “Azriel, I have listened for weeks about you talking about her and how beautiful she is. I am not going to let you sit here and let her leave over some silly misunderstanding. Go and talk to her.”

Azriel stood from the chair and bolted from the garden.

***

Y/N closed the door to her home and sat down on the couch, taking off her shoes. She didn’t want to ever see Azriel again. There was a pain deep within her chest that she couldn’t get rid of. No matter how much Y/N had tried to ignore the bond, she was always drawn to Azriel. He was constantly on her mind and she wanted to be near him. 

Y/N thought it would have been easy to avoid him. Being the shadowsinger, he had responsibilities that sometimes took him on long missions but ever since he had returned from his last one, Azriel hadn’t left the Night Court not even once. Every time he appeared with a new gift for her, she felt the bond pulling her to him tighten even more. But it wasn’t only the bond that made her feel the way she was. It was genuine feelings for him that made her feel the way she was. She was falling for the shadowsinger. 

A knock on the door interrupted Y/N’s thoughts. She had an inkling to who stood on the other side. Y/N opened the door and her suspicions remained true.

“What are you doing here, Azriel?” Y/N asked. 

Azriel stepped into her home and dragged his fingers through his hair. “You are my mate.”

Y/N sighed. “Yes I am.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Azriel said. 

“Because,” Y/N began. “You feel something for Elain and she is my friend so I didn’t want to stand in the way of that.”

Azriel shook his head and took a step toward Y/N. “I don’t feel anything for Elain. I won’t lie to you and say that I haven’t ever felt anything for her, I used to. But I haven’t felt that way about her for years.”

“Why are you telling me this?” 

“Because,” Azriel said, lifting his hand to gently cup Y/N’s cheek. “You need to know that when I came into that room when you were healing Elain’s hand, I wanted to speak to her about you. I wanted to know everything about you after the night I met you. She told me your favourite dessert, your favourite flower, told me about you and what you did to help my brother when he was hurt.”

“I have wanted a mate for a long time,” Azriel continued. “And when I met you, I hoped it would be you. When I walked you home that night, Rhys never asked me to. I did it out of my own free will. I felt a pull toward you that I couldn’t explain. It’s why I went to Elain to know more about you. And the more I knew about you, the more I began to fall for you.”

Y/N closed her eyes and leaned into Azriel’s touch. She felt stupid, so utterly stupid. 

“The bond snapped for me the moment I saw you,” Y/N said. “I never thought that I would have a mate. I am nearly six hundred and I had given up hope. It scared me and confused me at first but the more I spoke to you and the way you genuinely got to know me, knowing that the bond hadn’t snapped for you. I began to fall for you as well.” 

Azriel leaned his forehead against Y/N’s. 

And then he felt the snap. 

Y/N’s eyes opened, tears brimmed her eyes as she looked into Azriel’s. He smiled wide. 

“You don’t need to accept the bond right now,” Y/N said. “We can get the time to know each other better. After all, I was actively trying to avoid you.

Azriel let out a chuckle and leaned forward. “Out of respect for your friend. That says a lot more about you than you think. I will accept the bond because from what everyone has said about you, I would want no one else as my mate than you. You are perfect.”

Y/N couldn’t help herself but smile. “So are you, Azriel.”

Azriel’s lips brushed hers as he pulled her closer. “I am looking forward to spending my life with you.”

“And I am looking forward to spending my life with you too, shadowsinger.”

Azriel smiled before capturing Y/N’s lips in a sweet kiss.

#azriel x reader #azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses

[frannyzooey]

Short Days, Long Nights: 15

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit, teeny tiny lactation kink, Joel being real cute with a baby is it's own warning

A/N: ❤ thank you one million times over to @the-scandalorian who always give the best feedback and advice, to @the-ginger-hedge-witch who is always the most supportive and a special shout out to @mrsquill whose advice and perspective was much needed, being the big beautiful brain she is.

--

Joel picks his way through the woods, brushing aside the sprawling branches that reach out to catch his shirt. A small bundle tucked against his chest in a makeshift carrier, he’s got one hand splayed across it, protectively shielding it. His boots crunch over fallen twigs, and from within the folds of fabric, June’s dark eyes look up.

Flitting between staring at him and the contrast of the treetops as she takes in the surroundings, dapples of sunlight shift and play across her small face, light catching the swirls of her dark brown curls. When she starts squirming, Joel looks down and smiles at her. 

“You ready to get up, baby girl?”

Shifting her in the wrapped sling to face his chest instead of lying down, he makes sure she’s secure before he continues, giving her his thumb to hold onto. Her tiny, chubby hand wraps halfway around it and letting her squeeze it, he strokes the soft skin on the back of her hand. 

Carefully placed steps to avoid tripping on anything, his boots follow his normal hunting path, only this time he’s not hunting: he’s taking her for their daily walk. 

Starting as something he’d hoped would calm her down during her early days, he’s taken to walking all over the place with her while you nap in the afternoons. Never far enough that he couldn’t get back quickly if he needed to, they’ve explored every inch of the woods surrounding the cabin. Sometimes she’s fussy, sometimes she’s still, and sometimes - like today - she’s alert and awake, lifting her head off his chest to peek at the world around her. 

“You hear that, baby girl? You hear that bird singin’ to you?”

He talks to her without even realizing it, a constant, soothing murmur. 

His lips brush the downy crown of her hair, dragging back and forth just to feel the tickle of softness and he presses a kiss there, turning back towards home. 

Home. 

He’d begun calling it that while talking out loud to her and then kept saying it, because it was true. This was his home, and hers, and yours. One that, even though summer had begun and she was now here, had become impossible to leave. 

He had agreed to stay until she was born, but with every day that passed, he couldn’t bring himself to move forward with the plan. Days had slid together, weeks blurring as he helped care for her while you healed and he knew you wouldn’t be able to make the trek then, so he said nothing. Another month passed after that, and he thought about it - he really did - but couldn’t quite reconcile the concept of a potential threat with the present sense of safety. The danger that had seemed so immediate and imminent and threatening had faded into the background, giving way to the quiet routine of life, and the three of you continued on. 

The map was still in the cabin, as a reminder of what was waiting out there, but so were other things:

Her, in her cradle in the corner of the room along with the pillowcase that she’s taken to sleeping with, in lieu of a baby blanket. 

You, on the living room floor, your smile blinding as you stretched out next to her wriggling body in the afternoons. 

Her basket on the edge of your garden: you working, her small fists stretching and flexing towards the sky, visible just over the wicker rim. 

For someone who had little to no experience with it, you’d taken to motherhood like you’d done it all before. The birth, nursing, adjusting to a new sleep schedule, learning what every one of her cries meant and just how to soothe it. A seemingly deep reserve of patience held within you, your constant resourcefulness when it came to everything you had both on hand and inside yourself, he finds he loves you even more than he did before. 

Constantly impressed and humbled by this new version of you emerging right in front of him, he tries to let you both know how he feels in his own, wordless ways: referring to and respecting your knowledge and guidance when it comes to planting, delicate brushes of his hand on the small of your back while you talk with him in the kitchen, stopping you while you do chores to guide your mouth to his in a kiss of appreciation. Rocking June to sleep when she wakes, washing her clothes in the river, taking her for walks. 

So accustomed to thinking of his own body as a weapon, spending years using it as a means of protecting those he loves, he’s found an entirely new use for it right alongside yours: familiar, tender motions he thought were lost coming to the surface. 

Emerging from the woods, the familiar slope of your land comes into view and he makes his way down to the edge of the water. His boots sink into the soft give of the sand, a trail of impressions left behind him, and he drops down to a crouch before fully sitting down. Unwinding the fabric tied around his shoulder, he gently eases June out of the carrier. 

Delicate yet steady in his hold on her, he props his forearms on his knees and lifts her so they are face to face. 

“How much did you sleep last night?” he asks, a deep frown settling between his brows. Dark bags show under his eyes, and she wriggles in his grip, her legs kicking. 

“Felt like you didn’t sleep at all. Keepin’ us up all night with your fussin’.” 

She pays no mind to the stern look on his face, the gentle tone of his words in contrast with their scolding, and his lips brush against her cheek, her mouth opening to chase his with a babbling, wet sound. 

“You’re cute, baby girl, but you ain’t that cute. You gotta let us sleep.”

She lets out a soft cry, and he chuckles. 

“Okay, I take it back. You are that cute.”

They look at each other for a moment, her small, dark eyes studying his larger ones and a familiar glint of hazel captures his breath for a moment, his heart seizing. 

Identical to Sarah’s color, the likeness flits through them almost faster than he can catch it, though it doesn’t stop him from staring intently at June in hopes of it coming back. She blinks and looks away, her body flexing in a stretch.

“I saw you,” he says quietly, to himself.

June’s eyes come back to him at the sound of his voice, and the corner of his mouth lifts. 

“I think your big sister was just sayin’ hi, pretty girl.”

Impossible to ignore since the moment she came into the world and he caught her in his hands, he saw Sarah in June all the time. Every day: sometimes in her eyes, in her expressions, in her movements. He knew June was her own being, a mixture of himself and you that he loved. His eyes, the shape of your face. His dark hair, your smile. But when he caught glimpses of Sarah in her, he immediately chased the fleeting image before he could think about how much it would hurt to see it. Another chance to see her again, at any cost. 

Introducing the memory of Sarah to June as her “big sister,” a burden was lifted from his chest the day he started speaking about her. With nothing but the solitude of the woods around them and her tiny ears to hear his words, once he started, he couldn’t stop. 

Years of buried memories, of guilt, of confessions and apologies as his heart ached recounting the things he’d done. All of them laid bare to June, who absorbed them with quiet fascination at the low, rumbling voice of her father. The words meaningless to her and received without the judgment of someone who would actually understand what he was saying, everything came pouring out. 

Everything he’d done, everything he regretted, everything he missed. 

Once those were let out into the world, he focused on the good: Sarah’s love for soccer, for animals, her stubborn streak that matched his own. Her sense of humor, her girliness, vacations they took and their time spent together. 

Emerging from the depths he’d buried it under long ago, Sarah’s memory grew stronger every day and he was surprised to find that it hurt… less than it used to. Something he used to avoid due to the sheer pain that would come alongside the memories, he now seeks them out, to relive them in a new light. Basking in this second chance with her, he looks forward to seeing her in any way she appears in this life. 

“You think your momma’s up yet?” he asks. “Or should we give her a little bit more time?”

He waits for an answer he knows isn’t coming, but he studies June’s face like it is, eventually answering himself with a nod.

“More time, I think. You’re right.” 

Turning her to face the water, he places her in his lap and with sunlight flooding the bank, they sit and look at the water together. 

–

You feel as though you could sleep forever. 

Your heavy eyes blinking open, you stay in place and listen. Silence, which means they must still be out and rolling onto your side, you sink deeper under the thin quilt. Exhaustion blankets you, pulling your eyes shut. 

Tired. So tired, more tired than you’ve ever been in your life. He catches naps whenever he can, seemingly able to fall asleep for a moment whenever and wherever in the way older men do, but not you. Your mind is a constant whirring machine of what needs to be done next and it takes forever to turn off, but last night she was up for ages, and so when he told you to take a nap, you crashed as soon as your head hit the pillow. 

Your face brushing the cool cotton of his pillowcase, you bury your nose into it, inhaling. A need flickers to life inside you, slowly unfurling under the heaviness of your limbs and you wish he was lying in bed with you right now. 

In the morning sometimes when she’s in her cradle, you tuck your face into the crook of his neck and breathe deeply, letting your lips catch the edge of his whiskers. When you seek out his skin, he rolls to face you with still closed eyes but finds you just the same. 

Still, they are kisses that only awaken, never slake. Early morning sleep soft kisses. Warm skin under wandering hands, until she cries. Never any time to linger in the morning, you can still taste the firm press of his mouth against yours if you try hard enough and the memory of yesterday slips into your sleep-hazed mind, the edges fuzzy and soft. 

“What’s this for?”, you hummed, leaning back into him. 

His mouth rested on your neck, his lips molding to the slope of it. One kiss, another and his tongue slipped out, tasting your skin.

“Jus’ missed you. Thinkin’ about you.”

“Oh yea? What were you thinking about?”

He kissed your neck again, letting his mouth rest just under your ear. “ ‘Bout the other night.”

The other night: when he held his hand over your mouth and worked you with his fingers over your soaked panties until you came with a broken cry, right before kneeling next to you on the bed to watch you jerk him to completion onto your stomach. Afterwards, he smeared it around and you licked the spend from his fingers. 

“That was nice,” you smiled, turning to face him. Threading your fingers through his curls, you offered your mouth to him and he took it, his own need apparent in the way it moved against yours—telling and deep. 

Just the two of you for so long before June came along, it felt good to be reminded that he still wanted you like that: as a woman, instead of just a mother. The new role unfamiliar and flooded with a constant rollercoaster of shifting emotions, it was hard to navigate this version of yourself, and even harder to articulate those emotions into words. Joy like you’ve never known blended with bone weary exhaustion and pain. A fierce need to prove to yourself that you could do this, while still wanting him to take the lead. A new found self-pride laced with frustration and sadness and an ache for the way your relationship used to be. 

All of these emotions, fading away to be replaced by a happiness you never thought possible whenever you looked at June. 

He’s helped you navigate it all, just like he’s always helped you navigate: the group when you had one, dangerous routes when you used to take them, this new life when you made the suggestion. Jackson, should he ever bring it up again. The possibility of leaving was something you hoped every day that he’d forgotten about, but you didn’t dare bring up the subject in case he hadn’t. You weren’t ready. Not yet. 

With the idea of sleeping on the hard ground making the comforting cloud of your bed hard to leave, you eventually rise and peek out the window in search of them. The broad expanse of his back sits down by the water, and you see him lift her to face him, murmuring words you can’t hear. 

A delicacy to his touch and another side to his competence that you’d never have seen without her, Joel Miller the dad was someone you felt lucky to witness, but the thought of Joel Miller the man was the one that had your eyes lingering on his shoulders and the flex of his biceps under the material of his shirt.

Recalling his kiss from earlier that morning, you walk out of the room to go greet them.  

–

“How old are you going to be when she’s ten?”

He groans, closing his eyes. “Christ, don’ ask me that.”

You giggle, and he peeks an eye open at you. 

“Your daddy is gonna be wearin’ diapers soon,” you coo down at June, and he’s quick with his reply. 

“Who says I don’t already?”

Your playful giggle turns into a full laugh. 

“Smart-ass,” he grumbles, a good natured grin at the edge of his lips. 

He leans back into the worn couch, letting his head tilt to the side as he watches the two of you on the floor in front of him. The days getting longer with the time of year, evening sunlight streams in through the windows you washed earlier that day and its rays fill the room with enough light to see. The windows open, a breeze flows through. 

Rolling from your side onto your stomach, his gaze drifts from the curve of your cheek to the small round of your shoulder, to the wide open expression of pure contentment and love on your face as you coo a soothing murmur of nonsense down at June. She eats it up, her limbs kicking in jerky, excited movements in her splay on her back and she is transfixed by your face, alert and focused.

Filled with gratitude, he’s silent for a moment as he just…watches. 

Your finger dangles over June’s grasping hand until she takes it and wiggling it with a smile and a tease, you take it from her and dance your fingers down her belly, tickling. Her tiny body kicks in response, never ceasing in its movement. 

An overlay of his shitty QZ apartment blankets the room, and he immediately rejects the image, knowing you don’t belong there. The concrete he's slept on and the endless things he’s done to survive flood his mind and a simultaneous reaction wars within him: guilt, at the idea he doesn’t deserve this life after everything he’s done, and the answering fierce urge to defend it, making sure no one ever takes it away from him. 

“You thinking about it?”

Your question drags him to the present, and he frowns. 

“Leaving,” you clarify. You look down, your expression turning solemn. “You were quiet for a while,” you say quietly. “I thought maybe you finally remembered.”

Reading the tone in which you deliver your hesitant statement as dreading something inevitable, he’s honest in his reply in hopes to soothe you.  

“No,” he says. “I actually haven’t thought about it in awhile. Not seriously, anyway.”

Your eyes lift to meet his and the hope you’re trying to conceal in your expression almost breaks him. 

“You were right,” he continues. “We got the garden up and runnin’, got everything all setup like we like. Got a safe place for her.” His chin tilts towards June, her fists flailing in exploration until you catch one in your hold. 

“And if someone comes?” you broach hesitantly.

His jaw shifts, his eyes drifting down to June. “If someone comes, I’ll deal with ‘em.”

He will.

There is a finality in his tone, even if he isn’t sure it’s a promise he can make, but it feels right saying out loud. You belong here, she belongs here and he can’t let anyone take that away, not even himself. 

You say nothing, searching for the truth on his face and when you find it, the edge of your mouth lifts in disbelief. 

“Joel Miller, the optimist,” you tease. 

Because of you, he immediately thinks. Instead, he teases right back. 

“What, you think I can’t?” 

You huff a laugh, rolling your eyes. Your playful expression faltering after a moment, your attention shifts to June and a telltale trembling of your lip catches his eye as you avoid his gaze. Knowing you’re purposefully not looking at him because you’re self conscious about how easy it is to make you cry after June’s birth, he leans forward and drops down to join you on the floor. 

“Hey,” he says softly, crawling over and reaching out over her body to grasp your chin. “Hey now.”

You let him guide your face to his, and he sees he's right. A tear rolls smoothly down your cheek and his frown softens with his voice. 

“I would never let anything happen to you, honey. Either of you.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” you start, your breath shuddering. You swallow and then surprise him with a watery laugh. “I’m not – I’m not scared of that. I’m just –” you sniffle again, blinking free another tear. “I’m just so happy.”

A sob breaks free on the last word and the contrast of your statement with your reaction makes him laugh, which in turn makes you laugh through another sob. Then, a new sound blends into it from beneath the two of you, one that makes you both stop. 

“Did she just –” your breathing hitches, and you look from her to him. “Did she just laugh?”

The first time it’s ever happened, she does it again when you laugh in astonished, watery joy and it only makes you sob harder, tucking your face into the crook of your elbow. 

“She’s laughin’ at you,” he chuckles, splaying his hand wide over her belly, grinning down at her with deep dimples.

Taking a deep breath and wiping your eyes on your sleeve, you smile down at June. 

“Your daddy is gonna let us stay,” you say to her, your voice thick with tears and joy as you sniff again.

“Only ‘cause your momma has made us such a good home.”

Teasing words covering true, deep emotions, he looks at you and with tears still clinging to your wet lashes, he thinks you might be one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen. So much love shines through your gaze that the intensity of it is almost overwhelming, but he doesn’t look away. He meets it, unwavering.

“Joel,” you start, slipping your hand over his where it still rests on her belly, covering it with a squeeze. “If you ever want to go, I’ll go. I’d follow you wherever. Here, Jackson, somewhere else. Anywhere else. I trust you.”

Not trusting himself to speak without his voice breaking, he just lifts the corner of his mouth and nods before bending his head to press a kiss to the back of your hand. 

A silent devotional action, to the one who has given him everything. 

Pressing a kiss to the top of his head, you go back to trying to make June laugh and he watches the two of you from his place on the floor, stretched out alongside you. 

How could he leave? 

—

Attempting to summon the courage while tugging at the silken fabric to make sure it covers all the parts of yourself that you are unsure of, you stare at your reflection in the mirror; his low singing voice coming from June’s room. 

All day, you’ve secretly ached for him. 

A fire ignited every time you saw him with her: holding her, cradling her, one hand across her chest as she slept next to him on the couch while he read. And without: the short, dark strands of hair at the nape of his tanned neck, the little slice of skin above the waistband of his jeans that peeked out when he crouched. His thick forearms, his firm thighs. 

An ache that had been present since you woke up this morning, you’ve missed the man he is: his body, his skillful touch, his masculine, solid form moving against yours. A while since she’s gone down this early, you want to take advantage of the gift of time and show him how much you’ve missed him…but there is still a slight insecurity about this changed body of yours. 

Smoothing your hands over the lace that rests over your cleavage as you look some more, the soft scuff of his boots across the floor as he enters the bedroom has you immediately second guessing, quickly turning for your robe. 

“She went down okay,“ he says tiredly, scrubbing his hand down his face. He tugs his shirt off with a one handed hold behind his back, kicking off his boots while unbuckling his jeans. Shucking them off to drape them over the chair in the corner, he looks up at your silence. 

Frozen in front of him, your hands clutch the robe together. 

“You okay?” he asks, his tired expression knit with concern.

“That was quicker than I thought.”

He huffs, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I’m not complain’.”

“Neither am I, I just –” your hands fiddle with the thick material, your teeth tugging on your bottom lip. “I just wasn’t ready for you.”

Studying your face, he tilts his head up, lifting an eyebrow. “Ready for me?” His eyes drop down your body, his posture straightening with interest. “You got somethin’ under there?”

You hesitate for a moment. “Turn out the light first?”

His eyes darken at your answer and he slowly leans to the side, reaching to turn the lantern down. The room descends into a shadowed version of itself, everything bathed in dim warmth and he settles back into position, waiting. 

Taking a deep breath and feeling braver in the darkness of the room, you open the robe and let it fall to the floor. 

“What’s all this?” he asks, his husky drawl low and slow.

Stepping between his thighs, you take his larger hand in your smaller one and place it over your side, encouraging him to touch. He splays his fingers, searching for the heat of your skin through the thin material and gliding his hold up until his thumb drags lightly across your nipple, his eyes watch as it pebbles under the silk. Arching slightly into his touch, he takes your lead and tenderly palms the weight of your breast. 

Hooded, his eyes stay fixed on his hand. “Where did you get this?”

“I found it months ago,” you reply, your tone breathy and warm from the delicate brush of his fingertips over the fabric. 

He hums, letting his hand drag down your sternum with weighted exploration, curling firmly around your hip to pull you closer. 

“Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?” he asks in disbelief, immediately looking up at you. He bunches the silk in his fists, pulling it tight against your body. His throat bobs, his tongue dragging across his bottom lip as his eyes make a circuit down the length of you and back up.

“My pretty girl, all dressed up for me. How could I not?”

Bending down for a kiss, you place your hands on his shoulders and the hunger in the way he presses his mouth against yours betrays every thought running through his mind. Suddenly more awake than he seemed, he can’t stop shifting his hold on you: his mouth taking and taking, while his hands touch everything he can reach. 

When they get to the hem of the nighty and pull it up over your ass, he groans into your mouth when he finds nothing but bare skin underneath. 

“Nothin’ underneath? You’re such a good fuckin’ girl,” he breathes against your mouth, right before capturing it again in a devouring kiss. Leaving you breathless, he follows the column of your throat with a whiskery scrape of his beard against your skin, and works his way down, his humid breath ghosting over the tops of your breasts as he gives every inch of skin he finds an open mouthed kiss. 

Slipping the shoulder strap down, the fabric falls away and he takes your nipple into his mouth immediately.  Letting out a low moan with a pinched frown of pleasure, his eyes close and he draws from you: his hand coming up to cradle the underside of your breast, pushing more into his mouth as he swirls his tongue over the sensitive peak. His other hand digs into the curve of your hip, keeping you in place. Holding on, like you’re the anchor. 

Your fingers bury themselves in his soft curls, and he groans. Pulling back, a glimmer of something white is smeared on his lower lip, and his tongue darts out to taste the drop of liquid. 

“Takin’ care of my baby, with this perfect fuckin’ body.”

Soaked in worship, his words have you climbing onto his lap as he guides you in place and gathering you into his arms, he tugs your knee up to force you into a straddle over his thighs. Deepening his kiss with an inviting, slick slide of his tongue against yours, a low hum pours out of your throat and you grind against him, seeking the warm heft between his thighs until he shifts and rolls you onto your back, laying you out underneath him. 

His humid breath consumes you, the scent of his skin filling your senses. The firm rounds of his shoulders bunch under your touch, his biceps flexing in their strain as he moves above you and his solid torso presses against yours, forcing you into the mattress. His mouth never ceases and neither does yours, every part of your bodies seeking the other out to move in a mimic of the act itself and winding your legs around his waist, he grinds himself against you until you’re whiny and restless underneath him, your cunt slick and soaked against his cotton briefs. When you start to shove them down his hips, he helps. 

Tugging them down and kicking them off, his cock drags along the inside of your thigh when he lowers himself back over you. 

“I need you inside me,” you moan, reaching for him. “I want it.”

“Yea? You want my cock?”

“I’ve wanted it all day. All day while I’ve watched you.”

His hand joins yours to guide him to your aching entrance, and when the thick, rounded tip of his cock starts to make room for itself, you let out simultaneous groans of relief when he slides in. A singular smooth, filling and fluid stroke, all the way to the base. 

“God yes, just like that,’ you plead, and he’s quick to soothe. 

“Shhhh, it’s okay, my girl. I got you. I got you.”

Your mind already lost in a haze of need, the whole-body relief you feel is intoxicating, and yet his fullness inside you is only half of what you want. You want to feel desired, like he wants you just as bad as you’ve wanted him and to feel it, you know you need his roughness. The harder edges of his lust, the ones he’s been holding back from you since you gave birth. 

You want to taste desperation in his kisses, to feel it in his hold, to have him force it into the slick fist of your cunt because he just can’t help it - and you get what you want the second he starts moving. 

“I can’t believe you wore this for me,” he breathes above you, his hand catching the edge of the silk to pull it down and expose both your breasts. He watches them bounce for a moment, moving with every thrust of his hips and then he bends to latch his mouth onto one, the hard suction of it making you moan. Cradling the back of his head, you push yourself into the sensation. 

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, and all mine. All for me. Ain’t that right?”

His hips rock against yours, the tip of his cock sliding against that deep spot that’s been aching for him all day and you push your head back into the pillow, forcing your hips up to meet every one of his downward strokes.   

“God yes,” you pant. “All yours. Only yours.”

“S’fuckin right. My girl. Lookin’ this pretty just for me.”

He brings his mouth down next to your ear as his hips keep moving. “Pussy this wet, just for me.”

You nod, and fitting his face into your neck, he rewards you an open mouthed kiss laced with a groan. He sucks at your skin, his teeth dragging over your pulse and then his mouth finds yours, forcing it open just like he’s forcing you open to take everything he’s giving. Every weighted stroke, every full push inside. 

You like his words, but you like this just as much: when he’s so focused on how you feel around him and underneath him that he can’t speak, and you get to swallow his harsh pants and low grunts instead. 

Your thighs hitch higher around his torso, your ankles resting on his back and you can feel his muscles shift and flex under your heels, working, working, working. The intensity of your release builds, a fire that’s been banked all day finally being stoked brighter and hotter and he picks up his pace, his arm pushing underneath your back to hook his hand around your shoulder, keeping you in place beneath him. Buried under the weight of his body, you relish being used. 

Still just as sensitive as when you were pregnant, fast - so fast - you feel the first ripple of your oncoming release wash over your skin. 

“You’re gonna make me come,” you plead, trying to keep quiet. 

“Come on, honey,” he encourages it, pressing a thick kiss just under your ear. “Lemme feel it.”

Everything tightening between your hips, a syrupy warmth fills the bowl of your pelvis until it’s too intense and overwhelming and filling — and then it bursts bright and wet, your thighs squeezing his torso as he grunts through every rough stroke that sees you through it.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl,” he groans before kissing you. He pushes in harder, faster, pounding into the slick fist of your sated cunt.

“You want another one?” he asks, breathless and panting, the curl of a smug smile at the edge of his mouth. “Think you can do it again?”

You can’t speak, your mouth parted in a fixed shape as you focus on how he feels inside you right now and when he slips a hand underneath your tailbone to angle you just right, he focuses his strokes downward, causing you to cry out. 

“Shhhh, honey. S’okay. You can take it. Gimme another one.”

His voice is lost in the fuzzy edges of your mind, the only thing coming through the soothing tone as he makes you take what he’s giving and when you start to lock up underneath him again, the smile on his face this time is more apparent than the first one. When you start to come, he looks almost proud.

Your nails dig into the meat of his ass, forcing him deeper and he bends and bites the underside of your breast as he picks up his pace. His hands bunching in the sheets, he fucks you harder, faster, and when his hips begin to stutter in their rhythm, you know he’s close. 

“Goddamnit,” he groans when you come around him, never stilling in his movement above you. 

Frantically needing him to feel as good as he just made you feel, you dig your hold into the meat along his ribs and hold him in place above you, your hips pushing up to work against his. Matching his every stroke down with your own, his eyes shut tight against the sensation he tries not to give into. 

“I’m gonna come inside you if you don’t stop,” he warns, the words a tortured groan.

Knowing you can’t do that, you move quickly underneath him, pushing your hands against his chest until he lifts just enough for you to frantically slide down the bed. His slick, stiff cock drags up your belly and along the plane of your chest, brushing against your chin right before you take it into your mouth and when you wrap your lips around it with a firm suck, the groan he lets out is loud and involuntary, his hips bucking forward. 

His hand buries itself into your hair, his fist pulling painfully at the roots when he pushes himself in down to the base and you feel his belly jerk with a tremble right before he pours hot and sticky along the back of your tongue. His release is endless, filling your mouth as he stretches out rigid next to you and you swallow every single drop, your throat working as you hold him close. 

Working the dregs of it out with a slow roll of his hips into your face, you finally pull off when he relaxes into the mattress with a soft groan. Peppering kisses along the tops of his thighs, you slowly ascend the body you’ve been aching for all day and his hands run lazily over your skin, making room for you to crawl into bed beside him. 

“That was…somethin’,” he sighs, a slow spreading smile gracing his face when he turns his head to look at you and you prop yourself up on your elbow, running your fingers through the hair just under his navel. 

Catching your hand, he brings it to his mouth with a kiss. 

Laying in silence together, the sounds of the night filter in through the open window on the soft breeze that tickles your sweat damp skin. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent you’d been dreaming about all day straight from the source and your bodies slowly relax together, entwined. 

When you feel his breathing even out into a slow rise and fall, you peek up at his face. Taking a moment to admire the profile of his nose, his long dark lashes, the gray gathered at his temples, you run the pad of your thumb across his bottom lip in a feather light touch. In his sleep, his lips purse as they chase the sensation and you smile, the movement so like June when you do the same thing to her. 

Leaning forward to give him one last kiss, you reach over him and turn out the light.

#joel miller #joel miller/you #joel miller/reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader

[effetsecndaires]

— 𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠. (𝐡𝐜𝐬)

INCLUDES | keisuke baji, kazutora hanemiya, manjiro sano, shuji hanma

NOTE | This is really short, I'm sorry! I'm not sure how I feel about it either, but I hope it's not too bad.

— BAJI.

Pretty much everyone in Toman knows Baji has a soft spot for you. They never miss an opportunity to tease him about it, telling him to make the first move, to stop staring like a creep and just ask you out already.

...What they don't know is that you and Baji have been secretly dating for months now.

Though you decided to keep your relationship a secret mainly to keep each other safe and avoid being exposed to unnecessary danger, you both find amusement in keeping your friends in the dark about your relationship. It became like a fun little game between you and Baji, sharing playful glances and knowing smiles whenever the others would tease him about his supposed crush.

You're pretty sure Chifuyu knows the truth, though. There's always a knowing smirk on his face that suggests he might be onto your secret, but he plays along, giving you both a nod of approval whenever he catches the subtle displays of affection between the two of you.

If you eventually decide to make your relationship public, Baji will have a field day teasing his friends for not noticing sooner that you were dating. He won't miss the chance to brag about being the one who won the 'prettiest Toman member's heart, even poking fun at those who once had a crush on you.

— KAZUTORA

In the middle of all those men, it wasn't easy for you to find your place in Valhalla.

You often kept to yourself, feeling like you didn't really belong here. You had effortlessly managed to prove your strength and loyalty to the gang so everyone respected you and treated you as an equal — but it still felt weird to be surrounded with so many men, each more violent and intimidating than the other.

But with Kazutora, there was an instant connection that set him apart from the others.

Before you knew it, you were having secret meetings away from the prying eyes of the gang, and what began as just a friendship soon turned into something more.

Kazutora's affection towards you in public is subtle yet genuine. The two of you always make sure to stand away from each other during meetings and gatherings so as to not awake suspicions, but Kazutora quietly keeps an eye on you from a distance, checking up on you without drawing attention to your connection.

During fights, this protectiveness manifests in small yet meaningful gestures. Even though he trusts in your ability to handle yourself, he'll gladly position himself as a shield between you and any potential threats. He's always ready to divert attention away from you or take the hit in your place —which you often scold him for.

While it goes mainly unnoticed by others you can always tell when he does things for you, just to protect you. Sometimes, you manage to steal a quick kiss from him when nobody's looking, leaving a flustered Kazutora behind you.

— MIKEY.

Mikey is incredibly protective of you, which quickly makes people wonder if there's something going on between you. You both deny it every time, but you're not sure how much longer you'll manage to hide it — you're pretty sure Mikey has already told Draken anyway. (or Sanzu — depends if we're talking about Toman or Bonten Mikey)

It really doesn't help his case that he's always turning down his friend's invitations to hang out in favor of spending time with you. He doesn't explicitly tell them that — and he tries to cover up the fact that he's going out with you by using the excuse of wanting to stay at home and rest— but it doesn't take a genius to figure out his real intentions. It's no coincidence that you and Mikey are always unavailable at the same time.

The gang playfully teases him about his 'resting' time when they see him the next day, not realizing that these moments with you go beyond him simply sneaking away to see his girlfriend.

Your meetings are what keeps Mikey grounded, the very last anchor in his life that prevents him from completely losing himself.

When the weight of the world gets too overwhelming for him to bear, you become Mikey's refuge — the only person capable of providing the comfort he seeks and calming his racing thoughts.

— HANMA.

Hanma is a master at this whole secret relationship thing.

He effortlessly hides his feelings and shows no sign of concern for you, even when you get hurt during a fight or are facing threats from others. To the outside world, he treats you just like any other guy in Valhalla, pushing you to get up and keep fighting —fully aware that you can handle yourself and need no savior.

While he may not shower you with affection in public, there's another side of Hanma behind closed doors that only you gets to see;

As soon as the two of you are alone, he's all over you, always holding you close and kissing you like there's no tomorrow, getting all cocky over the fact that he's the only one allowed to kiss you and touch you like he does.

Of course, don't think he'll let the men who hurt you get away with it.

The next day, Hanma will take the matter into his own hands and seek out whoever hurt or threatened you. He doesn't give any explanation as to why he beats them up, simply brushing it off and telling everyone that he "just felt like it."

#reader insert #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev x you #x reader #hanma shuji x reader #hanma x reader #manjiro sano x reader #mikey x reader #baji keisuke x reader #baji keisuke x you #kazutora x reader #x female reader #x fem reader #x fem!reader

[f1daydreamers]

𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐧𝐬 [𝐌𝐕𝟏]

gif credits: @overtake

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Summary: Seeing your boyfriend play with his nephews stirs emotions inside of you. While it may be the first time you and Max have acknowledged it, it may also be the last.

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, like one mention of alcohol, mentions of an unknown future, parenthood, lmk if I've missed anything!

Word Count: 1.0k words (3 mins reading time avg)

...

The sun dipped below the Monaco skyline, its rays streaming through the expansive windows of the apartment you shared with Max.

In celebration of his successful '23 season, you both agreed that throwing a rather modest dinner would be the perfect way to bring everyone together after a demanding year.

You'd dumped the last of the dirty plates into the sink, thanking Vic as she was already some steps ahead of you, cloth and disinfectant spray in hand as she wiped down the table.

Casting a quick glance around, you confirmed the absence of any stray cutlery, leaving only everyone's respective cups.

However, both your mind and your movements abruptly hit pause, as if your heart had taken the reins, softening at the sight of your boyfriend playing with his nephews, attentively listening to every word they were saying, whether it was meaningful or mere babble.

You smiled as Luka got up and wrapped his small arms around Max's neck, his hand rubbing up and down his little back.

Your eyes even threatened to well up a bit at the wholesome scene. As you brought your fingers up to your face, Max's gaze lifted to meet yours.

You fake-coughed, pretending to shield your mouth, averting your eyes and busying yourself, desperately trying to regain your previously lost train of thoughts.

Max couldn't help softly smiling to himself, but his moment of retrospect was interrupted by a few taps on his cheek from his nephew, who was determined to recapture his uncle's attention.

…

As the evening progressed on, you constantly found your mind plagued with thoughts that unravelled a potential future with him, one that included the laughter and chaos of children.

Yet, a persistent counterargument resounded in your thoughts, reminding you that neither would be ready, both still traversing the barely begun stages of real adulthood.

The internal conflict tugged at your emotions, creating a fine line between the yearning for a future adorned with parenthood and the sober acknowledgment of the unadorned present. As the dinner gradually transitioned into an intimate gathering with hushed conversations among the group that remained, you politely excused yourself.

Max's arm, once comfortably wrapped around your body, now gracefully descended onto the sofa behind you. With your hand placed flat on his thigh, you leveraged yourself up, slipping out of his gentle grasp.

He let maybe five, ten minutes pass by, granting you some alone time should you have needed it.

But eventually, he placed his beer bottle on to the corner table, crossing the lounge before pushing open and then shutting one of the doors to the apartment balcony.

Lost in thought, your mind had barely registered the sound, your body jolting when his hand pressed into the slight dip of your waist.

You sighed when you recognised the touch a few seconds later, turning your head to meet Max's rather sympathetic eyes.

"Sorry," he quietly apologised. You shook your head, dismissing the need for one. Turning to face him, you wrapped both your arms around his torso, gently resting your head against his chest - a hug he warmly welcomed.

"Want to tell me what's going on in that big brain of yours?" He asked, and you could practically sense the smile creeping onto his lips. He had an uncanny knack for knowing when you needed to unload your thoughts, and his intuition was always eerily accurate. You sighed, feeling his grip on you loosen as you pulled away. Leaning against the railing behind you, Max took one step closer, then another. Pursing your lips, you realised how pathetic this may possibly sound when vocalised. "Just watching you with your sister's kids. It got me thinking, I guess."

Your boyfriend already had a strong inkling as to where this was heading, but he patiently granted you the time and space to elaborate.

He arched an eyebrow. "Thinking about what?"

You lightly shrugged, pressing your bottom lip up to your top. You hesitated for a moment before the next words left your mouth.

"You know, family and stuff. Kids."

Max studied your face for a moment. "Kids, huh?" He said with a knowing smile.

You avoided eye contact, answering with a simple, "I don't know."

He chuckled softly. "Is 'I don't know' code for 'I do know but I'm scared to share my answer' because you think I don't know mine?"

Caught off guard, you silently cursed that eerie sixth sense of his, tensing as you looked up into his eyes. They were light, despite the depth of the topic.

You frowned. "Well, do you.. want children, I mean?"

There was a warmth in his gaze, one that offered you comfort. He looked over your face, his shoulders slumped as if the walls of undiscussed territory had crumbled without much of a fight.

"With you, yeah."

Your frown deepened, but this time, a different emotion flickered in your eyes.

His admission was unexpected, and a pleasant shock washed over you. The corners of your lips twitched as surprise softened into a tender smile. For a moment, your gaze lingered on his face, searching for any sign of jest or hesitation, but you didn't find any.

"If you're ready, then so am I." He added.

And just like that, the hours you spent wrestling with your own thoughts now dissipated into the evening breeze. You held back the surge of emotions within you, searching for the right words.

"Really?" you managed, but not without a quiet sob escaping at the end.

Max chuckled, rolling his eyes as he pulled you into him, embracing you for the second time tonight.

"So fragile," he teased, and you smiled despite the tears streaming down your face.

"Shut up," you retorted, your voice a mixture of laughter and tears.

There was a moment's quiet before your boyfriend spoke. "On second thought, why do I need a baby when I've got one right here?"

It was your turn to roll your eyes now, your voice muffled as you tried to argue.

"Babies cry a lot more."

"Hmm, between you and a newborn? I'd say it's pretty even."

You lightly slapped Max's stomach with your hand; his laughter eventually melting into a warm smile, and he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head.

...

Masterlist

#max verstappen x you #max verstappen oneshot #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen imagine #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fluff #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #f1 #red bull racing #red bull f1 #mv1 x reader #mv1 #mv1 imagine #formula one fluff #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 #mv33 #mv33 x reader #mv33 imagine #mv33 fic

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Dream of Me

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen (House of the Dragon) x f!reader Warnings: Dirty talk, smut. Word count: ~1.2k

Summary: Upon learning of Helaena's lady in waiting's dream of him, Aemond is plagued by his own.

Author's note: Can be read as part two of this fic, but also works as a standalone. Day two of the Smuffmas prompts - "dreams and dirty talk". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

“Just so you know, if I were going to pleasure you with my mouth, I would do it before I stuck my cock in your cunt, not after.”

The words Aemond had spoken to her play on a loop in his mind as he readies himself for bed, a smug smirk of satisfaction playing delicately upon his lips.

Her shocked expression is one he wants to keep in his mind’s eye as he pleasures himself, but is frustrated to find that his overindulgence of wine at that evening’s supper renders him unable to rouse his cock to attention, it lays flaccid and useless in his palm, causing him to tuck it away with a frustrated sigh.

As he lays tangled in the soft cotton of the bedsheets, his final thought as sleep tugs him towards hazy unconsciousness is that he hopes she will dream of him again.

She has her back turned to him, fingers tracing carefully over the spines of the books on the shelf she faces in the library. He strides purposefully towards her, the dulcet tone of her gasp shooting straight to his stones, making them ache, as he wraps a deft hand around her throat. 

He can feel the heat of her body through his jerkin as he pulls her back against his chest, the skin of her jaw soft as peach flesh as he trails his mouth against it. She shivers against him, not fighting his advances, simply allowing him to do with her as he pleases.

The lacings that fasten the back of her gown tear effortlessly in his grasp as his free hand rips at them, the garment falling from her body, leaving her completely bare to him.

Her hands reach up the shelves, gripping for purchase, whether it is to keep herself steady, or an attempt to get away from him, Aemond is unsure, but desire boils too hotly in his blood for him to care.

He is swift to untie his breeches, grabbing her hips and sinking himself into her tight, wet heat. His name has never sounded sweeter than it does when it topples from her lips in the throes of ecstasy, coupled with the sticky sounds that accompany every push into her. She is so warm, so warm, so very warm…

There is warmth against his flesh when Aemond opens his eye, the bright sunlight that bleeds through the crack in the curtains making him grimace as he scrubs a hand across his face.

He has been dreaming, and yet it had felt so real. He swears he can feel her arousal, the heat of her, and then he sees the sticky translucence that coats his lower abdomen.

Just a dream.

The shame of which he will wash away in his morning bath.

He feels restless throughout the day, nothing satisfies the pulsating ache of want that simmers hotly in his lower abdomen.

The burning in his shoulder from wielding his sword, bringing it down upon Ser Criston’s upturned shield, and watching the wood splinter into fragments across the gravel of the training yard does nothing to quell the storm that rages inside him.

Perhaps it is not physical stimulation that he needs he reasons, nowhere has offered him solace quite like the quiet solitude that can be found between the yellowing pages of a historical tome.

The library is silent as he enters it, the thud of his boots against the flagstone floor echoing off of the vaulted ceiling as he makes his way slowly between the towering shelves. The supple leather that binds the covers of his favourite philosophy and history books feels rough against his fingertips. Nothing could compare with the velvety softness of how her flesh had dimpled beneath the press of his fingertips, but that was all in his imagination. How could a simple dream have rendered him so listless?

He swallows, screwing his eye shut, attempting to ignore the throbbing between his legs.

Just a dream. No reality would ever yield such pleasure. The depravity he had dared to peruse since learning of her dream of him would never be as pleasurable as he had built it up in his mind to be.

He exhales a shaky breath, attempting to calm himself, and when he opens his eye she is there, much more real than anything he could imagine. Yet the sight of her, back turned to him as her eyes wander the shelves feels so familiar. He is frozen in place, until she feels his attention on her and turns slightly, offering the softest of smiles.

He clears his throat, stepping towards her, his voice low.

“I trust you slept well, my lady?”

“Mmm, yes, my Prince, very well indeed,” she responds politely, turning to face him.

His eye roves across her, taking in her delicate features, the gentle slope of her neck, the swell of her breasts in her bodice, the subtle curve of her hips beneath her skirts, before lifting once more to her face.

“Were your dreams pleasant?” He asks with a smirk.

“You mean did I dream of you?” She replies cheeikly.

Little temptress.

“I dreamed of you,” he whispers, stepping towards her, backing her against the shelves. There is no fear reflected back at him in her eyes, as she stares up at him, only glittering excitement. It takes all of his restraint not to grab her by the waist and pull her to him.

“Pleasant, I hope?” Her chest rises and falls in a sudden state of breathlessness.

“You drive me to distraction,” he utters. “Tell me, how easily would your dress tear from your body if I were to tug hard enough?”

Her eyes go wide as her breath hitches, but still she does not look away. “I–I do not know,” is all she is able to offer.

“I ripped it from you in my dreams,” he whispers, ducking his head low to whisper against the shell of her air, delighting in the way her skin erupts into gooseflesh at the feel of his breath. “I sank inside of you, and you screamed my name in ecstasy.”

“Aemond…” she gasps helplessly, hands clutching at the black material of his jerkin.

“It sounds so sweet from your mouth. Does it leave your lips so freely when you pleasure yourself?”

Finally she averts her gaze, her voice small and embarrassed sounding when she answers. “...yes.”

His nose trails a path from her ear, down her neck, stopping when he reaches her clavicle. She smells sweet, like rosewater, her flesh as delicate as the petals from which it derives its scent, exactly as he had dreamed it would.

“Please…” she whines, her fists coiling tighter in the leather that covers his chest.

“Please what?” He asks coyly, lifting his gaze, his face mere inches away from hers.

“Touch me.”

“You would like that, would you not? For me to soak my cock with your maidenhead, leave your betrothed dissatisfied with what he finds on your wedding night?”

“But I want you,” she pleads quietly.

“And I you, my lady,” he grips her jaw tightly in his hand, running his thumb over the plumpness of her bottom lip. “But for now, sweet dreams of each other will have to do. I hope to visit you in yours again soon.”

With that, Aemond abruptly steps away from her, leaving the library in desperate need to relieve the way he strains against the confines of his trousers. He hopes he dreams of her again tonight, and every night after that.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond imagine #aemond smut #aemond targaryen imagine #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #pro aemond targaryen #aemond stannies #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen fan fiction #aemond hotd #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fan fic #hotd #hotd smut #house of the dragon #hotd fan fiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fan fic #hotd fanfiction

[subbmissivesuccubus]

Bondage~

A/n: This was day 3 of my Kinktober! Bondage with Nanami. As the title says, there's bondage and very strict dom Nanami as well as pain play. And fem reader so enjoy!

You gulped as you waited in the car, Nanami talking to Ichiji. You really screwed up and somehow, your nerves were dulling the pain of your injured foot. Waiting for Nanami, who you knew was furious at you, was somehow worse than fighting a special grade curse.

You didn’t regret what you did. Sure, Nanami, your supervisor, ordered you to stand down as the curse was far stronger than you could handle. He ordered you to not act rashly and to think twice before leaping into action as this particular curse could create illusions and make people see things that weren’t there. But when you saw a crying child screaming for help among all the chaos of Nanami fighting the curse, you couldn’t stop yourself from rushing in. Nanami’s bark for you to stop fell deaf on your ears as you ran to the kid, only to see that it wasn’t real and within a second, something stabbed you through the ankle.

But the curse stabbing you using its claw was just the advantage you needed. You brought out your cursed tool, a long sword and sliced upward, injuring it enough to make it stop in its tracks and that was all Nanami needed to quickly slice it into pieces. You fell to the ground with a shout of pain, Nanami kneeling beside you as he gently grasped your ankle. You watched as the claw lodged into your foot disintegrated away, leaving behind a nasty, bloody hole in your-

The man quickly placed his hand over your eyes, shielding you from the sight. Without a word, he took his tie and wrapped it around your ankle with one hand, telling you to power through the pain. Once it was covered, the tie instantly soaked in your blood, the man lopped his arm under your knees before lifting you up in a princess carry. You grimaced as any movement made your ankle scream in pain, but you managed to not cry. You didn’t want to cry over this when you’ve seen your peers and even Nanami deal with injuries far worse without making a big deal about it.

But as he carried you to the car, you noticed it. You’d been Nanami’s underling for some time now and have gotten to understand his limited facial expressions and this was one you’d seen a few times before now. His jaw clenched, his lips frowning, his eyes in a small squint as he refused to look at you.

Uh oh.

He was pissed.

You jumped as the car door opened, Nanami being done with his conversation as he sat in the driver’s seat. Once the door was closed, he started the car, the engine purring back to life. “S-Sir-“

“Quiet.” The man ordered, not looking at you as he stepped on the gas, “I’m taking you to Shoko. We’ll talk after.”

You gulped. You were well aware of what ‘talking’ meant.

~~~~~

You closed the door behind you as you entered Nanami’s bedroom, the blonde man having gone in before you. Your ankle was as good as new thanks to Shoko, not even a scar left behind. But now, you had to deal with the consequences of your actions.

“So,” Nanami said, taking off his jacket before draping it over a chair, “You decided to disobey my direct orders. What made you think that was a good idea?”

“I-I saw a child, Sir.” You responded, “I couldn’t just do nothing.”

“You knew the curse had the ability to create illusions.” The man said, hands in his pockets as he looked at you, “Rushing in like that was foolish and dangerous. And I don’t train my underlings to act on stupidity.”

“I know, Sir, but I couldn’t risk it.” You defended, “I knew there was a chance the kid wasn’t real but the possibility of them actually being there- I needed to make sure.”

“You think a child would just randomly pop out of nowhere in the middle of a fight?”

“…Stranger things have happened?”

Nanami sighed, grabbing onto his glasses before pulling them off of his face, “You know you’re going to get punished, right?”

“Y-Yes Sir.” You replied, heart starting to hammer in your chest, “I’m ready.”

Nanami was your superior, the man who was willing to have you as a sidekick but that meant you were his responsibility and when you did something dangerous and stupid, he took it as his job to properly…educate you. And he was very very good and getting your lessons through your head.

“Strip and get on the bed.”

You nodded and did as he told. Blood rushed to your face as you started to unbutton your top, shrugging it off of your shoulders. You did the same for your pants, the fabric pooling between your legs before you stepped out of them. With a gulp, Nanami still watching you, you moved your hands to your back and unhooked your bra, your breasts bouncing a bit as they were freed from their confines. Your ears turned red as your nipples perked up, clearly anticipating what was to come. Finally, you slipped your thumb into the hem of your panties before you pulled them down, stepping out of them as well. Completely naked, Nanami watched with his arms folded over his chest as you crawled onto the bed and laid down on your back.

“Do you remember your safeword?” he asked. You nodded, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth as Nanami grunted. You noticed that he had already prepared certain props on the bedside table, mainly, a long coil of red rope. Your eyes widened as Nanami got on the bed as well, straddling you. Knees planted on either side of your ribs, you looked up at the man, his stone-cold expression somehow making your body run hot.

“Tell me.” Nanami said, grabbing a tie from the bedside table, “Why are you being punished?” “B-Because I disobeyed you.” You said, gasping as he placed the fabric across your eyes, blocking out your vision. “And?” he asked. “A-And I got hurt.” “That’s right.” Nanami said, tying a knot at the back of your head, “You know better than to disobey me, right?” “I-I’m sorry Sir.”  “You will be after I’m done with you.”

Your body shivered at his threat, your cunt growing wet from his words. Everything felt so much more intense due to his tie around your eyes. With the lack of vision, all of your other senses were heightened. His deep voice, the heat emanating from his body, his touch, his scent- all of it took over you, making you feel dizzy.

You gasped as Nanami’s hand slid to your back, pulling your body up enough for him to slide a rope underneath you. You gulped as you felt the familiar material brush up against your skin, the man getting to work. He first started off with your chest, his rough hands tugging the rope tightly as he wrapped it around your breasts, making them pop out deliciously. You didn’t need to see to be able to feel Nanami’s eyes on you, taking in every inch of your skin. You let out a yelp as he pulled on the final knot, the ropes digging into the fat of your breasts.

He let out a satisfied hum, eyes taking in how delicious your tits looked but he wasn’t going to give you the pleasure of his touch. Not yet, anyway. Nanami moved down your body, settling between your legs. Your face was a bright, beet red as he grabbed your knees and spread them, exposing your pretty cunt to him. Hooking his hands underneath your knees, he pushed them up, making you yelp as he folded you, pressing your knees against your chest.

“Hold your legs up.” He ordered, ignoring the flustered expression on your face as you did as you were told, your breathing laboured as you replaced his hands with your own. It was a whole new type of embarrassing holding your legs up yourself, exposing your cunt even more for Nanami to ogle at. “This might hurt.” He warned before grabbing another strand of rope. His other hand gripped at your foot gently before pressing down, getting it as close to thigh as possible before you felt the rope start to wrap around it. Oh…Oh! He was literally wrapping your leg closed. The rope was being looped around your calf muscle and your thighs to press them together, rendering you unable to stretch your leg. He did the same with the other leg, now both your legs being tied tightly.

“Hand.” He ordered and you obeyed, giving him your hand. Your heart started pounding even faster when you felt him take your hand to your ankle, pressing your wrist against your foot before tying the two of them together. Legs tied so they’re always folded and now, your arms tied to your ankles which gave you little to no freedom of movement- if you moved your legs, you’d have to arch your back and if you moved your hands, you’d have to press your knees to your chest.

“There we go.” He said, clearly satisfied with the job, “Now you can’t run around, disobeying me, hmm?” You nodded, gulping down your saliva as you took inventory of your body. Tied up and ready for him to do whatever he wanted. You felt him get off the bed, hearing the sound of him rummaging through his drawer where you knew he kept his…toys. After a few seconds, he was back on the bed, his heat grazing your skin as he leaned over you.

You shivered and gasped as he lapped his tongue along your nipple, his heat and wetness feeling wonderful on your sensitive bud. He sealed his lips around it, giving it a couple of sucks before his teeth nibbled on it gently. Each time he bit down it made your body twitch, pressing against the red ropes that held you down to perfectly, reminding you each second of how you were tied up.

But before you could enjoy the feeling of him showering your nipple with attention, there was suddenly a sharp pain on your sensitive bud- a clamping sensation that was squeezing your nipple so tightly it took your breath away. “Ah!” you screamed at the pain, “S-sir-“

“Hold still.” Nanami said calmly as he made sure the nipple clamp was secured. He roughly grabbed your other breast, leaning down to give it an apologetic lick before he clamped that as well. Your back arched, legs aching from the stretch as you couldn’t help but scream from the sensation, the clamps so tight it made you dizzy.

“How pretty.” Nanami said, making you let out a loud scream as his finger suddenly flicked at the clamp, “don’t start crying already. I haven’t even started.” “I-Its hurts!” “Good.” He responded, not caring about your cries and whimpers, “But if it hurts so much, why is your pussy getting wet, hmm?”

You squealed as you felt the man gently run his finger along your cunt, rubbing between your folds and getting soaked in your slick. He eventually made it two fingers, his index and middle finger spreading your wetness around before he started rubbing gentle circles over your clit. You moaned, tossing your head back against the pillow as the pain on your nipples and the pleasure on your clit was fighting for your attention, your body shivering at every rub- at ever beat of your heart.

“Naughty girl.” Nanami said, tutting as he gently inserted one fingers inside you, the slide easy due to how wet you were, “This is a punishment, remember? Who gave your pussy permission to get so wet?” “M’ sorry- I’m sorry-“ you babbled, head in the clouds at the various sensations. “I’m sure you are sorry but I think this cunt needs a reminder of who controls it.” “S-Sir?”

Your heart leapt to your throat at his words, knowing full well of what Nanami was capable of. You felt him take his fingers and spread your pussy lips apart, flinching as he blew some air on your clit. No doubt, your bud was plump and sensitive from his teasing touch, the cute nub peeking out of its hood. Nanami smirked as he stared at your twitching pussy, flicking your clit a few more time to really get it to swell up before-

He snapped a clamp onto it.

The scream you let out was piercing, your whole body folding but unable to do anything or move in the way you wanted it to. He watched as you squealed and writhed on the bed, the pain of your poor clit being squished between two wooden clamps too much for you to handle. “Control yourself.” Nanami barked, secretly enjoying the view and your reaction, “You look pathetic.” “Sir! Sir- Please!” you begged, mouth open as you screamed, each movement making the clamps on your body feel like they were growing tighter, “It’s too much- It hurts!”

“You know what word to use if you really want me to stop.” Nanami said, reminding you that you could use your safe word and opt out. He gave you a few seconds but when you showed no indication of using it, he continued: “Will you disobey me again?”

“No Sir!” you responded, tears in your eyes from the crushing pain, “Never again- I promise!”

“When I tell you to do something-“

“I’ll do as you say- I’ll do anything you say!”

Nanami clicked his tongue in annoyance, “Don’t. Interrupt me.”

Your body shivered at his tone, wanting to curl up from disappointing him but you couldn’t move. You sobbed our whimpers of ‘sorry’s’ and you couldn’t help but think of how pathetic you looked to the man. But luckily for you, he liked you pathetic.

“Open your mouth.”

You gulped before you did as ordered, opening your mouth wide. You waited as you felt the man move up the bed and you realised; he was straddling you once more, his knees planted on either side of your shoulders. You jumped as you felt something press against your lips- something hot and hard and throbbing- something you were more than familiar with.

“This is a punishment.” Nanami growled as he rubbed his cock against your face, grabbing it by the base before slapping it on your tongue a few times, “I’m going to fuck your face, cum down your throat and I’m not going to go slow. I don’t care if you pass out, understand?”

“Y-Yesh Sir.” You responded around the cock on your tongue.

“Snap your fingers if you need me to stop.”

You nodded, jaw already aching. Your poor nipples and clit still throbbed from the pain but you hopes sucking his dick would provide enough distraction. He grabbed you by the hair and pulled, making you arch your neck more before he slowly started pushing into your mouth. “That’s it.” He groaned as his cock got enveloped by your hot, wet heat, “Take it…take it…take it all the way down…”

He was only halfway in and you were already gagging. You tried to steel yourself as Nanami continued to push forward, ignoring your gasps and gags. You shut your eyes closed behind the makeshift blindfold, opening your mouth up as much as it could go until finally, Nanami bottomed out.

Nanami moaned, tossing his head back as he enjoyed the sensation of being stuffed deep inside your throat. Your tongue clumsily lapped at the underside of his cock, drool seeping out from between your lips as his balls throbbed against your chin.

This was going to be your punishment. Tied up, unable to touch him, body writhing in pain as Nanami uses you for his pleasure. You didn’t know it at the moment, but once he’s done using your throat, he was going to leave you like this for a while, forcing you to steep in the pain while your pussy throbs for pleasure and release. And no matter what, you were not going to cum tonight.

Gripping onto the headboard, the man started thrusting, immediately picking up the pace just like he said he would. He groaned above you, gritting his teeth as he started fucking your face, his heavy balls clapping against you, the slick sound of your wet mouth choking around his cock echoing through the room.

You’d better not pass out.

#subby writes #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento smut #jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #kento nanami

[zeb-z]

I'm actually unbelievably unwell about Etoiles character you don't understand. He's always been a sword, protecting by attacking first, by fighting back, offense as the best defense. He jokes a lot about dying for the island, dramatic and half sarcastic, but there's truth in his jests. He would kill, and he would die, for his daughter, for the rest of the eggs, for the safety of everyone on the island. He does not hesitate, for what good would that do him?

Then he gets the shield, and it changes the entire game. And while he can still kill to protect the island, he can no longer truly die for them.

His role is functionally the same - he draws attention to himself, he's just as ready for a fight as he's always been, he fights the codes to protect the island - but its the difference between a sword and a shield, because of his literal shield.

He's the only solid defense between the codes and the island, and all the eggs. The only one who can tank the hits and negate the effects of their crazy powerful swords.

A sword cannot hesitate, but a shield must consider it - he cannot take risks when he’s fighting in the Colosseum, because if he dies he’d lose the shield. He cannot risk attacking the fake Pomme without hesitation, not until he’s sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s not his real daughter.

A shield must be sturdy. It must hold up under pressure. It must stay strong and reliable, no matter the circumstance - as the eggs go missing and everyone else crumbles, Etoiles cannot follow suit. He will play his part and defend the island, shouldering what the others cannot, because who else will do what he does?

To lose the shield would not only mean to lose himself, but to lose his family. He cannot fall without failing the entire island, his loss would mean disaster, for who is he if he’s not standing between the ones he loves and the monsters that threaten them?

He's as much a shield as the one he carries.

#he’s a thrill seeker a fight chaser and he paints a target on his back because he can tank the hits and better him than the eggs #he’s a shield in steady hands he’s the protector of the island - an apt comparison yknow #if he loses his shield they’re fucked because it’s their only defense. HE is their only defense. Ugggh #he’s so. like. atlas coded yknow. weight of the world and whatnot. because who else can shoulder the weight of the sky and keep it #from crushing the earth??? #I dunno man. the fact that he’s gotta be the level headed steady reassuring one now too. it’s just fucking with me #my fave my bestie his lore makes me want to rip things with my teeth #mcyt #qsmp #etoiles #q!etoiles #qsmp meta #z speaks

[the-kr8tor]

Can I request Hobie Brown to react to his shy gn crush accidentally sitting on his lap for your fluffy Friday?

Adorable! Thank you for requesting! ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw food mentions, love struck Hobie, spiderperson! Reader, FLUFF

It's Fluffy Friday! (For real this time lol)

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You're talking excitedly with Gwen, food tray in your hands, the Miguel burger sways slightly as you bounce on your feet. The can of soda clinks against the plastic tray.

"Oh! You should absolutely not skip season four even if it's dog shit." Walking backwards to face Gwen, she listens intently to your rambling. "How else are you gonna get the references they throw at you in later seasons?" You say with a cheery smile.

"Are you sure? You literally said it was shit" Gwen raises a brow questioningly.

"Duh! So you can compare how shitty it is to season 5" you turn harshly around, not looking where you're going.

"Shit! Watch out!—" Gwen tries to stop you, but it's too late. You hit a bystander waiting for their meal. You're one of the rare spider people who wasn't gifted with enhanced senses. Cursing at your crappy luck.

Your tray hits the poor guy who was unfortunate enough to be in your way. Pasta lands harshly on their red suit, coating it in bright yellow. The bun from the burger sticks to the spandex, replacing the spider logo to Miguel's mask design.

You crane your neck to apologize to the unusually tall Spider-Man, staring in horror at his scaly face, rows of sharp teeth bearing down at you as he growls angrily. His large shadow looms over you. The tray clunks loudly on the tiled floor, acting as a death bell for you.

"I'm so sorry!" You say weakly, trembling in your suit.

The T-rex steps towards you, footsteps rumbling like little earthquakes. You instinctively walk back, eyes trained on the dinosaur, ready to swing away in case he snaps his jaws at you.

"I'm sorry! I'll get it dry cleaned, please don't eat me–" something hits the back of your knees making you fall on something sturdy. "Oof" you let out, Your back hits someone's chest, strong hands over your waist, steadying you. Craning your neck to the left, you're face to face with someone familiar.

"Falling for me now huh, lovey?" Hobie's fave is mere inches away from yours, brown eyes staring at your flustered face.

"I-uh..hmm?" You could only manage to make noise, noticing how warm his palms are against the spandex of your suit.

Hobie smirks at your reaction, turning his head to address the T-rex that's been hunting you. "Hey big man, they said sorry already. We're on the same team, yeah?"

Spider-Rex huffs out, air coming out of his nose. He drops his head down to your height, you cling tighter on Hobie's torso, much to his satisfaction.

The dinosaur nudges your legs with his snout, as if to say: you owe me dry cleaning.

"Just send me the bill" you chuckle nervously.

Spider-rex huffs one more time, hot air hitting you and Hobie, you try to hide your face on his chest, not caring if the pins on his vest poke your skin. Hobie holds the side of your face, shielding you, his head lays on your temple, piercing cold on your skin.

"Alright! They got it!" Gwen steps in between you and your scaly friend, hands on her hips.

Spider-rex finally leaves, the floor shaking as he moves. Gwen clicks her tongue, tapping her foot in annoyance.

"Fuck, you okay?" Hobie ducks his head to meet your gaze. Fingers fixing your unruly brows that must've ruffled it when the dinosaur huffed and puffed. "He's all bark and no bite. Don't worry he doesn't eat fellow spider-people, usually" he says softly while he rubs your arms comfortably.

"Usually?" You ask in a small voice, slowly realizing you're sitting on his lap. Quite comfortably if you dare add.

He chuckles, "You planning on staying here? I don't mind" Hobie plays it off as he pokes your side.

"Right, sorry" practically jumping off his lap, feet landing back on solid ground, your shyness taking over. "Was I crushing you?" You ask softly.

"Nah," he reassures you. "Come sit down with me" Hobie scooches over, giving you space to sit right next to him.

Gwen drops her tray on the table, clicking her tongue. "I'll get something for you to eat, okay" she pats your shoulder. You nod appreciatively. "Play nice, Hobie" Gwen points an accusing finger at Hobie. "Be right back"

"I'm always nice, Gwendy" He raises his hands in surrender. Hobie notices your apprehension, he gestures for you to sit down across from him this time, as to not make you uncomfortable.

You bravely choose the seat next to him, surprising you both. He smiles when you slide next to him. Your spine is unnaturally straight, muscle tensed. Bashfulness at the forefront.

Hobie wants you to relax so he decides to wordlessly offer you his tray of food. "Wanna share mine?"

A soft smile curls around your lips, affection blooming in your chest. "You sure?"

"Yeah, only if it's with you" Hobie's eyes are soft, gazing at you longingly.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it ❤️

#request done #fluffy fridays #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #the kr8tor's creations #hobie brown #spider punk #x reader #atsv fanfiction #spider man across the spider verse #atsv fluff #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #atsv hobie #hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie brown x you #spider punk x gn! reader #spider punk x you #spiderperson! reader #fanfic #hobie brown fluff #hobie fluff #cw food mention #cw food

[newfallstrangeleaves]

Yandere in the apocalypse

Diving in deep

M!Yandere X F!Reader

Warning: Mentions of both voyeurism and masturbation, there is also stalking, murder and a lot of jealousy.

Summary: While watching you bathing in the lake he slips and accidentally (almost) exposes himself.

He would be hands down horny for you all the time. There was one time that always slips into his mind whenever he allows himself a moment to jack off. His mind keeps going back to that moment, thinking about the curve of your body, the swell of your ass and breasts. 

And that moment is the day you and the girls took a well-overdue bath in the lake. It was a hot day and everyone was sweating bullets. The rays of the sun keep everything still and quiet in the shades. The only sounds that could be heard were the laughter and the joyful splashing of water. 

Aaron back up in a tree, is watching contently. His leg is still hurting and he has half a mind to cause some trouble to the group. Stir things up. But not today. Today he wants to focus on you. Though half of him would have seen you without the shielding fabric of your bra and panties and the other half is happy that you do wear it. He can tell how some of the guys glance your way—especially one of them. 

Xavier. 

Fuck what an obnoxious name for an obnoxious guy. He has been taking charge for some time now. Bossing the group around and making bad decisions. Though he seems to be well-liked by your group, they would never be able to survive in these conditions without someone to tell them what to do. Sheep. 

You too seem to like him. But you're an exception. Where the others are sheep you are a devoter. Through your actions, you show appreciation for your leader. No matter who, and in different circumstances, you would realize the flaws that Xavier possesses and who would be truly devoted to you, care for you and protect you.  

Aaron constantly shifts his position. Things ache and chafe but it's worth it. He can pull through another hour if it means to get the first parquet to the show. You and your friends laugh and play for another half an hour until things start to die down. People keep to themself, wash up and get ready to get on with the day. 

But you're not really ready yet. You get one of the towels that the group had brought on for the swim, wrap it around you and walk back out into the water. Only letting the cool water wrap around your ankles. 

You walk along the shore, finding peace in the moment. Aaron too finds peace for once. Imagine a life just the two of you, how he’ll make you a cottage by a lake just like this, or the sea. Whatever you prefer. He would return home after ‘hunting’ all day to find you've made him a nice meal and after that, the two of you wouldn't leave each other's side all night. 

But then you walk out of sight. As you walk further and further away the branches get in the way. Desperate for just a few more minutes of observing you, he makes the crucial mistake of leaning on the wrong branch. Before he has time to react it snaps and he heads for the forest floor. 

There is no time to be hurt now. He can hear concerned voices growing closer. He gets up and doesn't even look back before he jogs as fast as he can with his limp through the forest. 

“HEY!” 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

This is not how he wanted to introduce himself to you. Being the creep spying on you while you bathe? Hell no.

“HEY YOU! STOP!”

So despite the pain, the old wounds and the new all of which have to wait. Luckily the forest grows a lot denser here, making whoever is pursuing him slow down. 

“HEEY!”

It's a man. By the sound of the footsteps, it's only him. 

He is getting closer and closer, a fight might be the only solution. But with both a weaker physique and the wounds from the fall, he is the underdog. He won't be even close to taking Xavier in a real fight. 

So he keeps limping forward. The sharp branches whipped his face. 

Until he can practically feel his presence closing in. And he knows even before he grabs hold of Aaron's arm that he does. He janks it back and Aaron wips around before he falls over, sticks and pine cones cutting into his back. 

“Okey…” Xavier fights to catch his breath. “Listen, I'm not here to hurt you, just talk.” He holds his hands up and smiles, trying hard to look peaceful. 

The sentence makes his blood immediately boil. How can he be so passive? Had Aaron not just been spying on them? Is he not considered a big enough threat? How can he tell from this single encounter? 

Yeah, he had just clumseöy fall down from a tree and yes, he was recently shot and had been limping away as fast as he could. 

But had it been any other time he could have taken him. 

He has been spying on them for weeks, memorizing everything about these people. All in the name of being one step ahead of them at all times. All their weaknesses and strengths. None of that was for nothing. 

So it's here it clicks. He knows what he has to do.

“I'm sorry, I… I didn't mean to…I didn't know how to approach.”

“It's okay brother. I know what it's like out there, we are all just trying to keep ourselves safe and if you were checking us out to see if we are decent then that's fine. Totally okay and hey, I'm sure there are no hard feelings amongst the others.” Xaviers smile makes him want to vomit. 

“You think so?” He makes sure his tone sounds more weak than the disgust he is feeling within. 

“I know it! Here, what's your name?” Xavier holds out his hand to help him up. Aaron takes his hand and seizes the opportunity to attack. As Aaron gets on his feet he grabs hold of Xaviers arm. In one swift motion, Aaron takes out his pocket knife and stabs it in his side. Still holding Xaviers right hand he has no way of defending himself. He stabs him multiple times before Xavier falls down wailing in pain. 

“Names Aaron.” He says through gritted teeth. “And just so you know, this is not the first time I've been watching your little group, in fact, I've been creeping around after you guys for weeks. This is my real first time fuck up, but there have been other times when you could have spotted me but didn't. Just another added reason why you're not cut out for this.” 

“You're insane!”

“Am I? I could have killed you just now, but I didn't. Not just yet at least. I wanted to tell you something before I do. Y/N is who I'm here for, the only one I care about and I am going to kill anyone who stands in my way.” Xavier desperately tries to crawl away as Aaron couches down beside him but to no use. Aaron grabs a good chunk of hair to hold him in place, the blood loss weakening him by the moment. 

“Staring here, with you.” 

With a swift motion of the knife to his throat their conversation comes to an end. There is a gurgling sound before quiet fills the forest. Aaron wipes off the knife as he hears Xaviers' names being called in the distance. It's not long until they are here. 

In the following weeks, things started to look up for him. None of the members had been able to get a good look at who the mystic man in the trees where so Xaviers murderer stays a mystery. Next, his wounds are looking better each day. Though your group can only be described as mourning Aaron has never felt so liberated before. Taking out competition always feels nice. However, the only negative part of this is that you seem much sadder than usual. Despite the reason behind it Aaron can't other than want to comfort you, hug you and tell you to forget him. Take him into your heart instead. 

#male yandere #yandere x you #yandere #yandere x y/n #yandere male #yandere x reader #tw yandere #post apocalyptic #yandere oc

[candycandy00]

The Doll House - A Gojo x Reader Fanfic Part 2

You sell yourself to the Doll House to pay your mom’s medical expenses, only to discover your trainer is the guy who bullied you relentlessly in high school: Gojo Satoru. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Sukuna’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

Note: Please remember that these stories don’t take place at the same time, or even one after the other! Consider each one its own timeline. So if you see Geto and Toji with other dolls, don’t be alarmed lol. I had to do it this way because if I don’t, by the time I get to the last trainer, there won’t be any other trainers left to interact with!

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Gojo’s. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Chubby Reader. Dubcon. Pet Play. Bullying. Collars/Leashes. Fingering. Anal sex. Vaginal sex. Blindfolds. Bondage. Anal plugs. Humiliation. Oral sex. Gojo being an asshole.

The next morning, Gojo wakes up early, too eager to begin Chubby Bunny’s real training. Last night was just testing the waters. 

He keeps a stock of new items ready and available, in various sizes and themes, so he’s well prepared. By the time Chubby Bunny wakes up, he has his bed lined with cute outfits for her. 

She gets to her feet, stretches, and walks over to look at the clothes, the chain on her leash clinking. “What is all this?” she asks, picking up one of the pieces. 

“It’s your wardrobe,” he tells her. 

She doesn’t seem to like them. Her face scrunches up as if she just saw something disgusting. “These are all way too small. They won’t fit me.”

“Of course they will. I picked them specifically to highlight your best features!”

She glares at him, like he insulted her terribly. Why does she always react that way to compliments? 

“Try something on,” he says, walking over and unhooking the leash from her collar. “You can change in the bathroom if you don’t want to do it here.” 

She sifts through the items, holding several of them up and looking increasingly upset. “Why are there holes in the ass of all of these?”

Gojo laughs. “For your tail, silly!”

She looks confused, but eventually chooses an outfit and goes to the bathroom. He hears the lock click into place and thinks it’s cute that she’s so shy. When she emerges a little while later, she’s holding her pajamas in front of herself like a shield. 

“I was right, it’s too small,” she says, hovering near the bathroom door. 

“Come on over and let me see,” Gojo tells her. 

She doesn’t move. “It looks awful on me. Can I just wear something else?”

Gojo rolls his eyes. “Chubby Bunny, I saw you completely naked last night. I’ve already memorized every single inch of you. So stop being bashful and let me see.”

He meant the words to be reassuring, but she looks horrified. Regardless, she steps further into the room and slowly drops the pajamas. 

Gojo doesn’t think he’s ever gotten hard so fast in his life.  She’s wearing the outfit that covers the most, but it’s still super revealing. It resembles a pale pink one-piece swimsuit, with high cut areas for the thighs and tiny spaghetti straps at the top. Her lovely, pillowy tits are barely contained, threatening to pop out at any moment. The matching pink thigh high stockings, which she probably put on to cover a little more, only make her look more erotic. The way the thick flesh of her thighs sticks out a little over the top of the stockings drives him wild. 

She’s looking away from him, crossing one arm over her chest, not realizing that only squeezes her tits together and makes her look even sexier. 

He stops staring long enough to remember the outfit isn’t complete yet. Not without the finishing touches. He grabs the bunny ears and puts them on her head, and hooks the leash back onto her collar. Finally, the tail. 

When he brings it to her, he makes sure to open the sealed package in front of her. He wants her to know this is a new item, not something he used on a previous doll. It’s a fluffy, round white bunny tail, connected to a shiny silver butt plug. “Get on the bed, on all fours, and I’ll put your tail in.”

Her eyes flick between the tail and his face, frantic, like a frightened little rabbit. She really is the cutest! 

“You can’t be serious,” she says. 

“This is part of the training. I said I wouldn’t give you special treatment, remember? All my pets have to have a tail.”

“How long do I have to wear that thing?”

“Until I take it out,” he says. 

She’s still looking at the tail as if it’s some dangerous weapon he’s going to use to attack her. 

“Look, it’s way smaller than my dick, so it shouldn’t hurt at all.”

She looks down, lowering her voice as she says, “But I’m still sore from last night.”

Somehow, hearing her say that in that shy little voice turns him on even more. He pulls the leash, forcing her to come closer to him, and gently rubs her head. “It’s okay, Bunny. I’ll lube you up really good. Once you get used to it, I promise you’ll like it.”

She finally nods and climbs onto the bed, her ass pointing at him. Fuck, she’s hot. He has to resist the urge to fuck her again right there. He controls himself, and opens the lube, dripping it into the hole in her outfit, right over her asshole. He massages it in, enjoying the way she quivers and jerks away. He slides his other hand down and finds her clit, giving it a few quick strokes with his fingers. She makes the cutest little squeak he’s ever heard, her whole body jolting. He’s never seen a woman with such a sensitive pussy before, and he loves it. 

She looks back at him over her shoulder. “A-are you done yet?”

“Nope,” he says, holding the tail up to his face, running his tongue over the plug. She watches as he coats it thoroughly with his saliva, her face looking more and more embarrassed. “Now, relax your body. I’m putting it in.”

She turns away, facing forward again. Her hands are gripping the sheets tightly. He wishes she would just relax. But he can’t wait forever, so he spreads her cheeks with his fingers and lines the tail up with her hole. It slides in easily, and she only makes a few quiet whimpers. The hole in the outfit has a cute bow attached at the back, which fastens around the tail, keeping it securely in. 

“It’s in,” he says, stepping back. 

For a few seconds, she doesn’t move an inch, then she gradually moves off the bed and stands beside it. She keeps trying to turn and look at her ass. “It feels weird,” she tells him. 

“You’ll get used to it,” he responds. “Turn around and wiggle your tail for me.”

She gives him another one of those looks, the kind she used to give him in high school when he swiped her notebook from her desk and made her beg him to give it back. It riles him up even now. 

Still looking half angry, half mortified, she turns to face away from him and gives the tiniest shake of her ass. 

“Oh come on, you can do better than that! Wiggle!” He gives the leash a little tug, just to urge her on. 

She glances back at him again, then sighs and bends over slightly, showing off her round ass. Then she wiggles it properly, the bunny tail wagging in the air, her thick thighs and ass jiggling in the cutest way. 

Fuck, he can’t hold back. She’s way too fucking adorable. 

He jerks the leash, pulling her to him, right up against his body. Ah, she’s so soft! But his cock is so hard it feels like it’s about to explode. 

“Get on your knees,” he says, almost breathless, “and open your mouth.”

She looks at him with wide eyes, a blush creeping over her features. But she’s an obedient pet, so she carefully lowers herself to her knees, making sure not to disrupt the tail. By the time he has his dick out, she’s waiting with her mouth open, just like he wanted. 

She’s perfect. 

There’s no hesitation when she wraps her plump lips around his cock, her wet tongue gliding over his tip. She has one hand at the base of his shaft, stroking to the same rhythm as her lips, and the other hand gently squeezing his balls. 

Gojo can’t help but groan. “Holy fuck, how does a virgin learn to suck cock like this?”

She pulls back and looks up at him, strings of saliva connecting her mouth to his tip. “I’ve done this before,” she says, then goes back to sucking him off, taking him so deep he hits the back of her throat. 

He can’t take his eyes off her, watching her head bob back and forth, hearing the wet sounds she’s making. The girl he’s wanted for so many years, the girl he’s been crazy over, is on her knees in front of him, deep throating his cock. It’s the best feeling in the whole world. 

It’s occurred to Gojo that she’s not aware of his feelings for her, now or even back in high school. He’ll tell her at some point. Right now, he’s kind of turned on by the idea of her thinking it’s a one-sided thing, of her pining away for him. It makes teasing her so much more fun. 

“You must be loving this,” he says, grinning when her eyes shift up to his face. “The guy you thought you had no shot with has his cock in your mouth.”

She lowers her eyes, but doesn’t stop. He liked it better when she looked up at him, but her tongue on the underside of his dick feels so amazing, he can barely think straight. 

He holds out as long as he can, wanting to stretch this out for as long as possible. She just looks so hot like this, submissively pleasing him, the bunny tail sticking out behind her, those huge tits bouncing as she moves her head back and forth. But her mouth feels way too good. 

“Ah, fuck, I’m gonna cum in your mouth!”

He doesn’t feel her try to pull away, but just in case, he grips the leash and holds her in place while he fills her mouth. 

*********************

You don’t struggle as Gojo’s warm, sticky cum shoots down your throat. This is the one sexual act you have experience with, so at least it doesn’t shock you. 

Glancing up at him, you hate just how physically perfect he is. Why does this asshole have to be so beautiful? He smells wonderful, his scent almost intoxicating. Even his cum is delicious. 

He uses the leash to pull you upwards, to your feet, then he rubs the top of your head, between the white fluffy ears, and says, “Good bunny!”

This is degrading. You feel like crying, and you feel deeply ashamed that you actually enjoyed sucking his cock. It even made you wet. What is wrong with you? Maybe some weak, pathetic part of you really does feel lucky that such a beautiful man is even wiling to touch you. 

After the two of you clean up, Gojo says, “Let’s go get breakfast.”

“Okay. I’ll get dressed,” you reply. 

He gives you a strange look. “You’re already dressed.”

You look at him with horror. “You want me to wear this?! Where other people can see?!”

“Why do you think I had you put it on?” he asks. 

“But… the tail…”

“What about it?”

You squirm uncomfortably. “It’s hard to walk with this thing in.”

He grins. “Pets don’t walk around on two legs, silly Bunny.” Then he jangles the leash. 

“Please don’t tell me I have to hop,” you say, exasperated. 

“No, not hop. I tried that once with another bunny and she pulled a muscle. Poor thing. But you do have to crawl,” he says. Then he smiles brightly. “Suguru and Nanami will be so surprised to see you!”

“Oh God, I forgot about them! I can’t wear this out there! I look gross!” Your voice is getting more panicked. This is hell. The three hottest guys you went to school with are going to be seeing you in this skin tight outfit! You cross your arms over your chest and stomach, feeling hideous. 

Gojo tilts his head as he looks you up and down. “Gross? But you look so squeezable! They’re gonna be jealous!”

There he goes, being sarcastic again. He must think this is funny. “It’s too embarrassing,” you say. 

“Oh don’t worry about that!” Gojo says with a laugh. “Suguru makes his doll walk around stark naked! She doesn’t even wear socks. Now that’s embarrassing!”

“That sounds awful,” you say, reconsidering your earlier assumption that Geto would have been better. 

“We have this little game we play when he gets a new doll. I pretend to harass her and try to touch her so he can swoop in and be all, ‘Don’t touch my doll!’ and make her think he’s protective.”

“Wow, I didn’t realize he’s such a manipulative person,” you tell him. The Geto you remember was a fairly nice, chill guy. Maybe he just seemed that way compared to Gojo. Not that you knew him all that well. 

“Nanami lets his dolls wear whatever, but he makes them call him Daddy and he spanks them with his belt when they misbehave.”

You shudder. “Ugh, cringe.”

“I know, right?” Gojo laughs. 

You snicker too, and then catch yourself. Why are you standing here talking to him like he really is an old friend? 

If he notices the shift in your mood, he doesn’t let on. He’s still grinning like an idiot as he opens the door. “Okay, get on your hands and knees like a good pet.”

You sigh dejectedly and get down on the floor. This is going to be humiliating, but at least everyone here is used to Gojo and his bullshit, so they won’t be surprised. And at least you’re not totally naked. 

He leads you down the hall, walking slowly to give you time to keep up with him as he holds your leash. Luckily the hallway is carpeted, so it’s relatively soft under your knees, but the tail still feels strange in your ass. You dread reaching the dining room, being seen by strangers and old classmates alike. But you don’t have a choice, so you might as well get it over with. 

In the dining room, Gojo leads you past a few tables, past a few strangers who don’t even glance at you. He stops at a table where Geto is sitting with his completely nude doll. Her face is bright red. 

“Look who’s here,” Gojo says, pulling up the leash so that you have to raise up slightly. “It’s Chubby Bunny! You remember her, right Suguru?”

Geto looks surprised. “Yes, I remember her,” he says, his gaze shifting from you to Gojo. 

You hear Gojo calling Nanami over, and soon the blonde man is standing in front of you, looking extremely uncomfortable. 

“She’s my new doll,” Gojo announces cheerfully. “Isn’t that funny?”

Nanami gives you a pitying glance. “I see. How unfortunate for you,” he says to you before walking away. 

Geto and Gojo are speaking quietly to each other, and you hear Geto say, “This is a bad idea. You can’t control yourself when it comes to her and you know it.”

“It’s fine,” Gojo tells him. “I’m being professional.”

You shudder. What sort of bullying does Geto think his friend will put you through? 

Gojo eventually leads you to a table and then gets food for both of you. He puts some food, steamed vegetables, in the palm of his hand and holds it out to you. “Here, eat.”

You think this is weird, but you reach out your hand to take a piece. 

Gojo pulls his hand back. “No no, eat out of my hand.”

You grimace, but realize he’s not going to let this go. So you lean forward and use your tongue to scoop some food into your mouth. Gojo watches you with a pleased expression. “Don’t worry, when we’re alone in my room, you can eat whatever you want. We’ll just do it this way in the dining hall.”

So this is just about embarrassing you and making you feel low. You’re not surprised. You spend the rest of the meal eating out of Gojo’s hand, wondering when he’s going to eat anything himself. When it’s over, he leads you back to his room and hooks your leash to his nightstand again. 

“I’m gonna go grab us some real food,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”

With no other option, not even able to sit down with the tail in, you stand there in his room while he leaves. 

************************

In the kitchen, Gojo is grabbing a double armload of snacks when Geto confronts him. 

“Are you out of your mind?” Geto demands, his hand on the counter. “You’re not supposed to get attached to dolls you train, and here you are training the girl you were in love with in high school!”

Gojo is clutching the snacks. “Suguru, I’m keeping her.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not. She’s everything I dreamed she would be. She’s so soft and cute and you wouldn’t believe the blowjob she gave me this morning! Her tongue is like magic!”

Geto frowns. “I’d rather not hear that kind of stuff about two of my former classmates. Anyway, keep in mind that she has the right to refuse. It’s in her contract.”

“She won’t,” Gojo says quickly. “Why would she? She admitted she liked me in high school.”

“In high school, not now. And even then it was probably only before you started bullying her.”

Gojo scoffs. “That wasn’t so bad. I just teased her.”

Geto narrows his eyes. “Satoru, you tripped her in the hallway and made her fall in front of everyone. Among many other things.”

“I tripped you and Haibara all the time! I was just joking around!”

“It’s different with girls,” Geto says. “Remember when you tripped Shoko?”

Gojo looks down with a pouty expression. “She smashed my sunglasses.”

“Yeah, and she was your friend.”

Gojo looks back up. “That all happened so long ago. I’m sure Chubby Bunny is over it by now.”

“Just try to think things through,” Geto tells him. “From her perspective, she’s now the sex slave of her former bully. This is probably a nightmare for her.”

Gojo smirks. “It didn’t seem so nightmarish when she was moaning and cumming last night.”

Geto turns around. “Alright, I’m done. Just think about what I said.”

Several days later, Gojo still hasn’t popped Chubby Bunny’s cherry. He knows she wants him to. In the heat of some of their intimate moments, she’s asked him to. He wants to literally more than anything, but he wants her to beg for it. The very thought of it makes his dick throb. 

Presently, he has her spread out on his bed like a buffet. She’s wearing nothing but the collar, bunny ears, and a pair of thigh high stockings, the rest of her on display for him. She’s lying on her back, her hands tied behind her. She’s blindfolded, and her legs are spread far apart, bent up at the knees, her body partially folded. 

She’s twitching as he pumps a large pink dildo in and out of her ass. He loves having her in this position, her tits jutting out and bouncing as she jerks, her pussy totally exposed and defenseless. With his free hand he runs his thumb up her slit, loving the way it glistens with her arousal. When he parts the flesh and strokes her quivering clit, her body nearly jumps off the bed. She’s so so so sensitive! Playing with her body is the most fun Gojo has ever had. 

Being blindfolded, all her other senses must be heightened. She’s breathing hard as his thumb continuously rubs her delicate little nub, her mouth making the sweetest cries he’s ever heard. 

“Does my cute bunny want me to fuck her tight little cunt?” he asks, still plunging the dildo into her other hole. 

She nods, her body shaking like a leaf. 

“Want my huge cock stuffed into this virgin pussy?” 

“Y-yes!”

He keeps rubbing her clit, watching her come undone, the pleasure overtaking her. She’s at her cutest like this, so overwhelmed by stimulation that she starts crying. He can see tears leaking out beneath the blindfold. 

“You’re gonna have to ask for it, Chubby Bunny,” he says, lowering his voice. 

She squirms under his touch. “Please,” she whispers. 

“Please… what?”

She lets out a sob. “Please… fuck me!”

He grins. “I’m already fucking you. Be more specific.”

“Please… fuck my pussy with your cock!”

He stares down at her trembling form, thinking it’s the most beautiful sight on earth. The woman he’s craved all this time is crying in his bed, begging for his cock. He has to be inside her, soon, or he just might cum in his pants. 

*************************

You’re a complete mess. Gojo has reduced you to this. You’re lying here, shaking, tied up, totally helpless, your body being pleasured relentlessly while your heart is tormented. You don’t even know who you are anymore. The most pitiful, disgusting side of yourself has emerged, desperate for this man to fuck you. 

You feel him pulling off your blindfold, and your breath hitches. You wish he’d left it on. You don’t want to look into those haunting eyes anymore. But the blindfold is gone, and you open your eyes to find his face inches from yours, looking like a heavenly being. 

He’s not smirking or grinning right now. He’s staring at you, his perfect lips slightly parted, his hair messy, his cheeks slightly pink. He looks into your teary eyes and then kisses you on the lips, gently. Then he slides down, pulls the dildo out, and tosses it aside. He leans his face down, holding your slick folds open with his fingers, and begins licking your clit. 

You jerk, arching your back, screaming in ecstasy. His tongue glides all over it, his saliva mixing with your arousal, making you absolutely drenched. And when you’re right on the edge of cumming, he stops and pulls back. You look at him with pleading eyes, and he gives you a kind, warm smile. It’s not the smug grin he usually wears. 

“I had to make sure you’re nice and slippery,” he says. “I don’t want to hurt my Bunny.”

You know what that means. He’s finally going to fuck you for real! He scoots back onto his knees and opens his pants, hurrying to pull out his massive cock. Then he moves closer to you, pulling your legs onto his shoulders and bending you even more. 

You gasp as you feel his cock begin to enter you. At first it’s going in easily, but at some point it starts to hurt. It’s not unbearable pain, but an ache that spreads from your pussy and up to your lower abdomen. And he’s still going deeper, as if he wants to fuck directly into your heart. 

You squirm beneath him, and he puts a hand on your face, making you look at him, at those damned eyes. “Feel it? Feel me inside you?”

“Yes,” you squeak out. “It… it hurts… it’s too big.”

You feel him push even deeper in, and then he groans. “Fuck… I’m all the way in… so fucking tight…” Then he locks eyes with you again. “Now that I’m in, what do you want me to do?”

“Ah… f-fuck me…”

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice so lovely in your ear. “If I start fucking you now, I might wreck this poor little pussy.”

Your mind feels cloudy. You don’t care anymore. You don’t care if he hurts you. All you want, right now, is to be fucked by him. “Wreck me,” you say between ragged breaths. “Ruin me!”

You hear him inhale sharply, and his eyes seem to shimmer as he looks down at you. “I’ll ruin you,” he says huskily. And in a voice so low you can barely hear him, he adds, “Because you’re mine.”

He fucks you then, plunging in and out of you, stretching you to the limit, holding your face still with his hand to make you maintain eye contact while his other hand squeezes whatever flesh it can find. Your brain can barely process whether it hurts or feels amazing. His hard body is pressed against you, his skin creating friction against your sensitive clit as he pounds into you, flooding your senses. 

You hear his voice, saying something incomprehensible. It sounds like, “You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine”. He kisses you again, devouring your mouth, and pulls back in time to watch your face as you cum, staring into your eyes. When he cums minutes later, he does so deeply inside you. 

He pulls out slowly. His pretty pale cock is coated in a thin layer of sticky red blood, mixed with your cum and his. He pants for a minute, still staring at you, like he can’t take his eyes off you. 

Still in his bed instead of the pet bed, you fall asleep before even cleaning up. 

Over the next few days, Gojo fucks you constantly, in one hole or another. Your body is growing to crave his touch, crave the pleasure he gives you. But your heart is in turmoil. 

One day, as you’re stepping out of the bathroom in your pajamas before bed, you start to feel dizzy, lightheaded. You’ve had spells of anemia for years now, and you groan as you grip Gojo’s dresser. You don’t want to faint here, in front of him. You hate showing him even more of your weaknesses. But the room is going dark, and you feel like you’re falling. 

You hear Gojo’s voice. It sounds distant. 

“Chubby Bunny? Are you okay? What’s wrong? Hey!”

You think you feel two strong arms wrap around you as the room goes completely black. 

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#gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo smut #satoru gojo #jjk x reader #jjk smut #x reader #gojo x you

[dailyreverie]

Fairytale

A/N: Based on this prompt requested by an anonymous person, if you see this, I love you, thanks for requesting! 🎄❤️

Holiday prompts ⛄️

11. Nice

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem. reader

Word count: 870

CW: Insecure reader, reader wears a dress.

There’s always this moment before going to the Avengers' parties, as you are in the middle of getting ready, where you start second guessing if what you are wearing is fine. Is the dress you've chosen too much or not enough? Is it too formal, or have you missed the mark on the dress code? Whatever it is, though, you are stuck with your choice since behind you, meeting your eyes with nothing but love and admiration, Bucky keeps saying how gorgeous you look. If only you could see with his eyes the way your dress makes you glow. There’s no way he would let you change, not when you look like that.

As you wait for your car to arrive, in the middle of a cold Brooklyn street where you feel like the street lights shine on you like a spotlight, you can’t help but feel self-conscious from the way you look. “Everybody’s looking at me.” You whisper against Bucky’s shoulder, trying to hide from prying eyes.

Truth is, there aren’t as many peaky lookers as you think there are; your mind plays tricks against you as you pull and tug the fabric, Bucky’s arm working as a shield against the rest of the world.

“That’s ‘cause you look stunning, doll.” He reassures you still, with a tender kiss pressed against your forehead, and when you look up to protest him, to tell him how you definitely missed the dress code, the only spotlight that matters is the one reflecting the admiration in Bucky's eyes.

"I still feel like it's too much," you insist, cheeks tinted with a rosy hue.

“Sweetheart, listen to me,” Bucky stands before you, grabbing your arms softly to make you look at him, his fingers traveling up and down your arm when your eyes meet his. “I promise you, you are the most stunning woman that has ever graced this earth.”

"Bucky..." you roll your eyes, but his smirk and laughter reassure you.

“I’ve been here a while, I know what I’m saying.” He concludes with a smirk that makes you laugh too. “I swear, you look perfect. So perfect, that when we get back home, I’ll make sure the whole building will hear the way I-”

“Excuse me,” a tiny voice interrupts your giggles, tugging at Bucky’s leg from somewhere close to the floor. The voice matches a little girl no more than six, who looks up at you with her eyes shining like Christmas lights.

“Hi there,” He greets with a surprised smile. “Are you okay? Are you lost?” Bucky adds immediately, the worry that washed over his voice making your heart feel warm.

“No, I’m not lost, I saw you from there..” she points at a corner from where a woman runs towards you, most likely her worried mother. “And I ran so fast! Because I-” She stops when she sees you looking at her, her eyes instantly shying away as her hand gestures to Bucky to crouch down until he reaches her height. “I wanted to say hi to the princess.” As she whispers, Bucky’s smile becomes gradually wider until it reaches his ears. “If she is your girlfriend can you tell her I say hi, please?”

Bucky looks at you with the fondest look he’s ever shown. “Why don’t you tell her, I’m sure the princess would love to hear it.” They exchange a look, Bucky encouraging her as she takes a step towards you.

“Hi princess,” she speaks up to you as you almost melt from how cute this little girl was, trully believing she was seeing a real-life fairytale princess. “You look really pretty.”

“Oh my- I-” You stutter a bit, getting flustered by the second. Words begin to fail you, but you are not one to break a little girl’s fantasy. “Thank you very much, so do you.” You notice she's all dressed up too, probably heading to a party too.

Her eyes light up and she takes your hand. “I want to be a princess when I grow up, just like you!”

“I’m sure you are going to be a wonderful princess.” You assure her, just as her mother arrives with a thousand apologies as she takes the girl away.

“Don’t worry about it,” You tell her with a wave, discarding all her worries.

“You are so nice, hopefully she will become like you one day, this little munchkin.” The munchkin in case can’t stop laughing as she is dragged away by her mother, who can’t do much but shout her goodbyes: “Goodbye princess! And goodbye handsome prince!”

Bucky stands up again as you both laugh at the moment, and when he meets your eyes again and his hands find yours to intertwine, he repeats his words again: “I told you: beautiful.”

"For all I know, you hired that girl," you playfully accuse, a light-hearted tease escaping your lips as you pull him closer with a smile that dissolves into a kiss. His own smile meets yours, letting go of your hands to hold your waist instead, erasing any distance that could be between you.

The sound of a car horn interrupts the tender exchange, and you part with shared smiles and love-filled eyes. For all he cares, in his eyes you are a fairytale princess, too.

🦾🎄🦾🎄🦾🎄🦾🎄🦾🎄🦾🎄🦾

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader

[fredwkong]

1000: Banana

As the clock strikes midnight, Eric grabs the banana card, letting the other two cards drop. As they fall, they dissolve into dust, creating a small pile of ashes on the floor. Meanwhile, the banana card starts to glow in Eric’s hand. It becomes searing hot, and Eric shields his eyes, cursing. Then, in a flash, it too vanishes.

Blinking his eyes against the afterimages, Eric looks around his room. The box of cards has sealed itself once more. Nothing else seems out of the ordinary, though Eric finds himself feeling a bit warm. He rubs his fingers where they were scorched by the card. They’re still tingling.

Eric drifts through his nighttime routine, washing his face and brushing his teeth in a daze. Could it all have been a trick? No, it’s far too convincing. Eric looks at his pale, scared face in the cracked mirror. “Magic is real,” he tells himself, his voice shaking.

Getting into bed, Eric is sure he’ll be tossing and turning all night, but sudden exhaustion takes him, and he drifts off without any trouble at all.

The next morning, Eric wakes up feeling horny. It’s not such an unusual feeling for him, as a normal 18-year-old boy, but Eric finds himself palming himself through his loose boxers with unusual intensity. His dick seems especially needy for attention.

Needy. The word bounces around in Eric’s head as he strokes himself to full hardness. Yeah, he’s got a needy cock. It’s not just that he has a normal libido, his cock has needs. It needs his hand on it. It needs to thrust, rut, and cum. Eric rolls over onto his belly and starts thrusting into his hand. In seconds, he cums with a groan, leaving a few drops of pearly semen on his sheets. He’s always had pretty light loads.

It’s a pretty uneventful Sunday. It’s warm, so Eric reasons he may as well not get dressed. He sits around in his dorm, playing some video games. He needs to go grocery shopping, but he figures that he can just go tomorrow. After last night, he needs a break.

Throughout the day, Eric feels a slowly growing awareness of his dick. Usually, it’s not much of a problem for him. He’s never been the kind of guy who has to masturbate more than a few times a week. He’s never even managed to get close enough to someone to know if he’s more of a top or a bottom. Sex has simply not been much of a concern when he isn’t even out to anyone.

But suddenly, his dick is grabbing his attention. It just seems to… rub against him, somehow. The fabric of his boxers is stimulating it. How strange.

At the next save point, Eric sticks his hand into his undies. He probably just has to adjust himself. As soon as he touches himself, he groans, loud. His cock feels so good. But he really wants to beat this next boss. He tucks his hardening cock down into the leg of his boxers and withdraws his hand with one last lingering touch of the head. As he does, he feels a slick wetness on his fingers. Did he cum again? No, the liquid is clear.

On impulse, Eric sniffs his hand. The smell is rich, tangy, a little bit bitter. Back in his sex ed, he remembers reading about precum. He’s never produced enough to notice before.

Except for his strangely insistent dick, Eric’s evening goes pretty normally. He finishes up his game and gets ready for bed. As he lies down, he can’t resist fishing his cock out. He rolls over onto his belly and thrusts into his hand once again. There’s a strange smoothness to the motion of his hand up and down his length now, like he has some extra skin. Eric’s about to pull himself up and look when his orgasm suddenly hits him. Without even getting up to wipe off his sheets, Eric falls asleep on top of the dribble of slick cum.

Monday morning is much the same as Sunday. Eric cums into his hand, rutting against his sheets. This time, he puts a pillow down under him. Somehow, this needy cock of his isn’t satisfied. It wants something more. He can’t ignore it as he showers and gets dressed. Even tucked into his jeans as he walks around the grocery store, Eric can’t stop paying attention to his cock. Every time he passes a man, it jumps, sometimes making him moan quietly.

On Tuesday, Eric has a summer class. His cock is so insistent in the morning that he cums twice before walking out the door, each less satisfying than the last. His whole class, Eric rocks forward and back, feeling the occasional drip of precum leak into his boxers as he stimulates himself with his skinny thighs. By the end of class, he’s absorbed nothing, but his boxers have absorbed so much they feel slick as he walks.

Eric resists jerking off as soon as he’s back in his room. He knows it won’t be satisfying anyway. He rips off his jeans and boxers. “What do you want?” he asks his dick.

The head is slick and shiny with precum. It seems to be gathering up under the flap of skin that’s loosened from just below the frenulum. Do guys just grow back their foreskins? As his cock bounces in time with his thundering heart, Eric looks down and suddenly has the mental image of his needy cock jackhammering a thick ass, or facefucking some guy’s throat.

Even as he imagines it, Eric feels the orgasm building. Just the thought of its needs being met has his cock about to blow. “N-no,” Eric gasps, attempting to dispel the images, but then his mind fills with the image of having one boy sucking his cockhead while another mouths at his balls. With an uncontrollable moan, Eric shoots a jet of cum out onto the floor, his knees buckling as his cock continues to unload.

On Wednesday morning, Eric wakes up with a tacky pool of mixed precum and cum on his slender belly, dripping onto the sheets on either side. He must have cum at least twice in his sleep, but his cock is still hard, the foreskin pulled back from the shiny purple head, a steady stream of precum leaking down his shaft.

Eric stares down at his cock, then looks towards the box of cards, still sitting innocently on his desk. “I can’t do this,” he tells the box flatly. “I can’t fucking do this. What am I supposed to do? Get a personality transplant?”

His fingers, where he touched the banana card, tingle for an instant.

As he wipes up the gooey puddle from his belly and groin, Eric has a sudden thought. What would be so bad about just… enjoying this? Most guys would be happy to suddenly have a leaky uncut cock with a need to fuck. He should just enjoy it while it lasts.

“Fucking weird,” he mutters to himself, rolling his eyes and pulling on a pair of boxers.

It’s a few days early, but Eric’s soaked through all his underwear and has to do laundry. He sits in the laundry room, resolved to go through the lecture he couldn't pay attention to yesterday. As the boxers tumble in the sudsy water, the precum stains refuse to come out, sinking deeper into the fabric. By the end of the spin cycle, Eric’s clothes have begun to transform, the colours lightening and legs shortening on all of his baggy, body-hiding clothes.

Distracted by his lecture and the growing sensation of his cock swinging around in his boxers half-hard, Eric doesn’t notice as he transfers the load over to the dryer. As the clothes tumble, the changes become more apparent. The baked-in precum lets off a funky stench, making Eric’s head spin as all of his boxers transform into briefs, his pants into shorts. The sleeves slice neatly off all his T-shirts and vanish.

“Are these my clothes?” Eric mutters to himself as he unloads the dryer. He gives one of the briefs a sniff, filling his nose with the scent of his own pre. “Damn, yeah,” he chuckles, pulling out the rest. He can’t help but think that he should be kinda disgusted by that, right? But no, it’s actually pretty hot that his pre and cum are so powerful they can’t be washed out.

The rest of the day is similarly weird. Eric keeps having these weird thoughts, like he has two personalities in him. One is painfully shy and closeted, while the other is confident and a bit cocky. With every dribble of precum from his thick uncut cock, Eric can feel the shy personality being subsumed into this more confident man.

The next morning, Eric’s woken up by his last orgasm of the night, pumping several shots of cum right up onto his neck. God, he needs to figure out how to satiate this needy cock of his. Before he’s gotten out of bed, he’s already unloaded again, thrusting down into the towel he needs to keep on his bed all the time.

Instead of paying attention to his Thursday lecture, Eric downloads Grindr and uploads a selfie of his torso in bed this morning, covered in a layer of pearlescent cum. “Big shooter, in need of hole,” he writes as his bio. He doesn’t have any shame left, he needs to unload inside of a man. He can’t help but think that the cards heard his plea yesterday, and tore down some of his inhibitions.

Even so, that evening Eric finds himself unable to message back to any of the guys who message him. Every new hole pic or open mouth he receives makes him shrink deeper into his old shyness, even as his cock pisses precum at the sight of all these ready holes. Shuddering through his nth orgasm, he finally falls asleep.

By Friday morning, Eric is basically caught in a continuous, low-grade orgasm. His whole mind is suffused by need, and he snatches up his phone and messages the nearest person with “bottom” in their profile, probably someone in his dorm. “U up?”

The other guy responds immediately. “Damn, can I suck u?”

Eric groans as the thought sends a jet of cum out of his cock. He sends the guy his room number and opens his door at the knock a few minutes later.

The guy is cute, a little taller than Eric, tan with a cute little belly. “Holy shit,” he says, gaping at Eric’s continual leaking and the puddles of cum all over the floor.

“Get in here,” Eric growls, dragging the guy inside to slam the door shut. He shoves the guy down to his knees and rams his cock into his mouth.

It’s like a circuit closes. For the first time in two days, Eric can think as spurts of cum drain down the guy’s throat. He cums for what feels like minutes, until finally the need subsides and he pulls out, his cock softening at last.

The guy wipes at a trail of cum that leaked out of his mouth and licks it up. “So, hi, I’m Blair,” he says.

Suddenly, Eric is laughing. He can’t seem to stop. He drops to his knees in front of Blair and grins helplessly at him while continuing to laugh.

“Uh…”

“Sorry,” Eric says finally, getting himself back under control. “That was… That was my first time.”

“Damn.” Blair looks down at Eric’s soft cock, a bead of pre already forming at the tip of the foreskin. “Can I get be your second time too? Like, after lunchtime, maybe, because I think you filled me right up."

The two boys laugh together. “Uh, maybe. My cock is like, needy—“

Blair is cute and funny, and Eric finds him easy to talk to, even if their introduction was Eric unloading five men’s worth of cum into Blair’s belly. Eric finds himself feeling confident, even a little sexy, as they spend the day together. When they walk together to the dining hall for dinner, Eric finds his cock filled with a new need, and he lowers his shorts for a moment. A cock like his deserves to be seen, to show off the pre stain on his briefs.

Saturday, Eric feels almost normal. Blair gives him a real blowjob in the morning, though Eric ends up facefucking him a bit. His cock just needs to thrust. Then they play video games together between Blair draining Eric's balls until Blair heads back to his own room near midnight.

As he closes the door behind Blair, Eric remembers what happened last Saturday. He turns back to his desk to see the box of cards sitting open. Well, having a hyperactive dick hasn’t been so bad, now that he’s figured it out. He just has to solve whatever new problem these cards are gonna throw at him.

Eric draws his cards

On the first card is a drawing of a dog. It's one of the stereotypically aggressive breeds, a pit bull, standing in a defensive posture with its teeth bared. The wolf-like attitude and masculine lines of its body makes Eric think of cocky, 'manly' guys who always jump to their own defense and snap at anyone who looks at them funny.

On the second card, the art shows a cat. The cat is sitting with its back to the viewer, looking over one shoulder as if Eric isn't worth its time. Just like those independent, self-assured guys who float above everything in their lives, Eric realises. The cat looks like it marches to its own beat and doesn't bother with other people.

On the third card, there's a large, square-headed animal surrounded by smaller versions of itself. It's a capybara, Eric remembers. It looks so relaxed, chilling with its friends. Somehow, the art gives off a happy, carefree vibe. Sure, the capybara doesn't look like it spends much time thinking, but it clearly has a lot of friends and just chills all day.

Or vote here on strawpoll: https://strawpoll.com/e7ZJG4Nzdy3

See Eric's whole journey with the 1000 cards here.

Did your pick not win the vote? Send me an ask telling me what card Eric should have picked to see what could have happened.

#male transformation #mental change #1000 follower party #leaky tf #broification #gradual change #uncut tf #all fwkong