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cherrychilli · 4 months

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18+

Steve Harrington x AFAB reader, grumpy dom! Steve, established relationship, PIV sex, car sex

A/N: I haven't written for Steve in a minute so I pulled this out of the wip vault and dusted it off.

The time to back out had passed.

Steve knew he couldn't disappoint the whole group now when it had already been decided that he would drive them out to the lake that Saturday afternoon. With Eddie's license suspended and Jonathan's car in the shop, there was no other option.

For someone who, on a regular day, looks golden in every possible way under a perfect cerulean sky, he stuck out like a storm cloud today.

Steve sat out on the dock with his shades on to shield his annoyed squint and a soda pressed to his lips to conceal his scowl, wishing it was a beer instead.

Those of you who weren't driving picked frosty bottles out of the cooler Eddie had stocked for the outing, bottle caps coming loose with a pop, the nutty aroma of grain and barley fizzing into the wind. It was more than a little amusing to you as you eyed Steve from over your beer, watching the poor boy stew.

On the surface you appear oblivious but you're well aware that your boyfriend's eyes are trained on you too, a heated, razor sharp stare behind those reflective lenses.

His simmering displeasure goes unnoticed by the rest of the group but when you start to strip down to your swimsuit with the others and head for the water it's only a matter of moments before they notice one less member wading in the water with them.

Inevitably, what he'd been dreading begins and he has to deal with it all day. Everyone takes turns asking Steve why he isn't getting in the water with them and each time he's forced to mutter out some vague excuse that only lifts more eyebrows.

It's obvious to everyone that he's hiding something and the stubborn way he tries to refute is comically adorable. Some lighthearted teasing ensues and you can almost see the steam rising off his skin.

Robin gets the ball rolling with a quip about him spending too much time on his hair to risk getting it wet. Eddie joins in on the teasing too. Nancy and Jonathan are too polite to add to it but they laugh off to the side and try to suppress their giggles all the same.

None of it is cruel. it's all harmless, well meaning fun between friends and it's all the more enjoyable for you because you're the only one who knows the real reason why Steve wont just peel off his shirt and get in the water.

If he did, then your friends would get to see the result of all your hard work last night. They'd see the messy, lengthy scarlet scratches that rawed the skin all down his back, the half moon indents turning violet on his triceps and shoulders and the many hickeys like splashes of merlot you sucked onto his chest and his stomach.

You've got a few marks on you as well but you're saved from suffering the same torment as Steve thanks to your waterproof concealer. He endures it all, forcing the occasional dry, humorless laugh until the sun begins to wind down and the rest of you towel off before lugging your belongings back to his car under a cotton candy sky.

It's a little snug inside the BMW but you make it work. You buckle yourself in the front seat and the others pile into the back. Nancy finds room in Jonathan's lap while Eddie's somehow been strong armed into the middle by Robin so she can have the window seat. He doesn't concede quietly and the resultant commotion in the back is enough to distract the backseat occupants from noticing the tension between you and Steve. Well, more so the tension that's emanating from Steve because you look no more unbothered than you had all day, humming to yourself inconspicuously. Waiting patiently.

Nancy and Jonathan are the first to be dropped off. Next is Eddie, and then Robin. You wave goodbye to her as Steve slowly presses down on the accelerator to begin the journey to your apartment, twenty minutes of being alone together starting now.

"You really put me through it today", he spoke, breaking the moment long silence.

Your lips form a pleased smile as you fiddle with your fingers in your lap. It was obvious where all of this was heading but riling him up was part of the fun and you didn't want it to end just yet. You wanted a little more before it's all teeth and ripped clothes when he gets you inside your apartment.

"I didn't make them say all those things, Stevie sweetie", you turn your head towards him and bat your lashes, the illusion of sweetness thick on your features.

His eyes stay fixed on the road, the vein near his temple more noticeable now. "You wore it on purpose, didn't you?", he sidesteps your comment like you hadn't even said it at all.

This time when you blink at him it's with confusion. "Don't play dumb, baby", he warns you with a laugh so mirthless that it draws a shiver out of you. "Oh..", you utter when you realize that he's referring to your strappy yellow bikini. The one he really really liked, because he made you keep it on all throughout riding him on on his sun lounger the last time you went over to swim in his pool. Not that you did much swimming in the end.

You'd been so wrapped up in all the teasing and what hid beneath the layers of his clothes that you'd paid little attention to what you'd been wearing all day.

"Wasn't bad enough that I had to deal with the others today. You had me fighting off a fucking hard on top of it all too."

Your gaze instantly drops to his lap. By the looks of the thick imprint of his cock underneath his jeans he seemed to be done fighting it off.

The car slows into a turn and you realize that you don't recognize your surroundings, much more greenery around than what you're familiar with. You'd had your eyes off the road long enough for him to divert from the route to your house, detouring off a backroad and into an unfamiliar clearing thickly nestled by trees and forestry.

You bite down on your lip to stem the grin that threatens to erupt on your face. This was much better than you'd been hoping for and happening much faster than you could stand to wait.

Pulling into the isolated space, he cuts the engine, car going completely still. "Come here", but he's already pulling you with forceful a hand curled around the back of your neck before you have a chance of following through yourself. It's ungainly how you fumble with unbuckling your seatbelt as it presses uncomfortably against your chest but you manage to unfasten it, leaning further over the console to get closer to him.

You whine when he latches onto your neck, sucking at the skin there not at all gently. If the taste of lake water and sunscreen still lingered on your skin, he showed no sign of it. At least not any sign of disliking it as his tongue licked over your skin and his teeth dragged close to your pulse. When he pulls away you can feel the wet warmth of the fresh hickey blooming on your skin and your heart beating in time with the subtle throbbing there.

It wasn't hard to imagine what it looked like. Deep and dark and reminder of who you belong to. "You're not covering it up this time, understand?", he tells you and you nod. As if you'd want to hide it.

He leans over you then and you retract into your seat to make room for him, back pressed firmly against leather. Steve's intention becomes clear when he pulls at the lever to adjust your seat. You squeak when it reclines abruptly and he climbs over you to push it all the way down.

"Get these off. Now", he orders you, not unkind but firm, pulling at the hem of your damp t-shirt and the waistband of your shorts. He's impatient but so are you, wiggling around and maneuvering your limbs messily underneath him as he helps you to peel the clothing off.

You manage to toe you shoes off as well, elbows and knees bumping Steve and parts of the interior until you're left in just your bikini. The frantic rush suddenly halts and things slow down when he runs a finger down your sternum until he reaches the little strap just below your breasts, hooking his finger into it. " 'Played dirty all day, didn't you honey? had your fun while I all I could do was sit back and watch?", he tugged, the bottom curve of your breasts becoming visible as the material slips.

"Couldn't help it", you breathe out, hands sliding up his biceps. " I like it when you get mean", you confessed softly, eyes all big and glossy and wanting. He laughs, hair falling over his forehead. "I know, baby. Gonna take my time getting back at you". He's done with the gentle interval, yanking your bikini down to expose your tits. You yelp, not because it was unexpected but because he'd done it a little harder than you had expected. A welcome roughness that made your core feel sticky.

He's all over you, weight pressing down on you as you writhe under him, gasping as he marks you up. More fresh bruises to match the one on your neck are peppered across your breasts first before his lips trail hot on your stomach and then your hips and your thighs. The noises he's forcing out of you are needy and pathetic, high pitched, breathy whimpers and mewling cries of his name all tumble from your lips until he pulls away to look over his work.

You're left panting as he appraises you, eyes raking all over in search of more space to fit another hickey or two. "Never looked better, babe", he sits back on his knees, grinning happily. "On second thought...", he grips your waist, encouraging you to turn around and get on your knees. You scramble to get into position, pulling loose the knot on your bikini top and tossing it towards the back seat so that it no longer hangs limply on you in a tangled mess. You grab at the headrest, bare tits pressing against leather as you arch your back for him and present your ass. "Now you've never looked better", he scoffs, open palm landing on your left cheek with a swift slap.

"Shit! please just fuck me already, Steve", you whine, beyond the point of playing dumb and coy.

He pulls your bottoms to the side, thumb brushing against your soaking entrance as he lets out a low whistle. It's a little strange being almost completely nude in his car like this. You usually had a little more clothing bunched around you on the off chance the rocking vehicle might attract any passersby's attention. It makes you feel that much more vulnerable. Hidden but still technically in public. Still at risk of being discovered.

It's all so terribly exciting.

The distinct jangle of his belt being undone makes your spine tingle and the crude sound of him spitting onto his palm before he tugs on his cock a makes you clench.

"Not gonna go easy on you", he warns, catching your eye when you look back at him over your shoulder.

"I can take it", you challenge him and you can tell by the way the corner of his mouth twitches against the smirk he's trying to force away that he liked it.

He places one hand on your hip and the other on the foggy window pressing his cock into you in one slow thrust.

"That's my girl"

---

The next day you anticipate Robin's reaction when she pretends to barf at the sight of the hickeys on your neck and you giggle, amused because you know never to take it seriously.

Eddie's slower to notice because the first thing he does is climb into the back seat of Steve's car after it's been parked, claiming to have dropped his lighter there yesterday.

"Did you find it?", Steve calls out behind him when he joins you and Robin as you get ready to head into a nearby burger joint for lunch.

There's a suspicious pause and some rustling before he finally yells out an answer.

"Nope! Found something better though"

Kicking open the door, Eddie barrels out with your bikini top sloppily thrown on over his shirt, batting his lashes at Steve like some kind of parody of a lovestruck cartoon.

You're too entertained by it to be embarrassed though you can't say the same for Steve who's turned completely red, placing a hand over your mouth as you snicker.

Puckering his lips, the metalhead makes eyes at your boyfriend and you double over with laughter while Robin rolls here eyes and makes her way inside, having had her fill of Eddie's theatrics.

"Come on big boy, fancy another round in the back seat?"

#steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader

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mango-sp1ce · 10 months

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Dan wipes down the bar as the other bartenders chat behind him. It’s all fleeting conversation, nothing of real note as they clean up and get ready to leave.

Unlike them, Dan just got in for his shift. The graveyard shift, how fitting. Not being one for small talk, he gives a simple grunt as a goodbye when the other workers leave, not even turning his head.

The moment the door clicks shut behind them, he brings his hand under the bar and flicks on the switches. Lights, sound, the whole shebang. His sensitive ears easily pick up on the sound of the door locking, and a different door on a different wall unlocking.

And then he sits, and he waits.

———

The first hour is quiet. A few goons, a few lesser villains. Condiment King is… an entire issue within himself, but even he didn’t pick much of a fight tonight. If anything, the bar just received its most recent restocking of condiments, courtesy of the king.

Washing a few stray dishes in his free time, Dan glances up when the door opens again and a fresh chill finds its way inside. He rolls his eyes as the villain sits down, before letting his core thrum to action and coil the frost back out the door. The man can keep his little aura, but leave your jacket at the door please. Common courtesy.

He makes momentary eye contact before making the drink without instruction or a word said. Seems frosty isn’t here tonight for small talk. Good.

Right as he slides the drink over, the door opens again to another high end villainous celebrity. The Riddler makes his way in, looking a little worse for wear. He take a close seat and does a little hand motion that only takes Dan a minute to decipher.

When he slides his drink over, the man smiles and laughs. “Got it in one! One of these days I’ll stump ya!” Maybe. It is completely possible. Dans only been recognizing the gestures from different books and video guides he’s been watching.

The two big shot villains get to talking and Dan proceeds to do what he likes the most about this job. The chaotic neutral action of… simply ignoring them. He turns and takes note of inventory instead as they plan whatever it is that they’ve planned.

And then the haunting (not to Dan, but certainly to the people of Gotham) sound of a clown car echoes down the street outside. He’s sure it isn’t an actual clown car, but he’s never really stepped outside to look.

The two men at the bar look at each other before sliding to sit further down. Within minutes of their decision, the main man himself makes his way in.

Dans already got his drink ready before he even sits. But yet again as always, the man chooses to sit right in front of wherever Dans standing at the moment.

“So, bartender, what’s it today?” The madman cackles out, taking the drink and swirling the little umbrella Dan had plopped on top. The umbrella didn’t belong there at all really, but Dan had noticed the way the man favored the little item whenever he got it and figured he may as well put one every time.

“Shocked. Chilled.” Dan responds with a nod towards the drink. The joker makes a thrilled little sound before taking a sip and knocking his head back in a laugh.

It’s not as if the words he just said have any actual meaning. At least, not what they might’ve had before. Jokers got his own thing going on, his own mixes and substances and who knows what else he puts in his drinks. Dan wouldn’t be surprised if the little “surprise” packs the Joker’s goons supplied the bar with were just joker gas in water dissolving form.

“That’s certainly got a spark!” He yells, his eyes as wide as ever. Dan doesn’t say anything, after all; everyone who comes here knows how he feels about small talk.

“So, Danny-boy, I’ve got an offer that you certainly can’t refuse!” The man chuckles, sipping his drink and playing idly with the small umbrella. Dan rolls his eyes.

“Don’t call me that. And shoot.”

“Woah now- I haven’t even loaded my gun!” He jokes. Dan just stares blankly until the man continues. “Always such the party pooper. So Casper, I’ve got a guy who needs a little… break. The usual really, but I want you to do this one with pizazz! How do ya like sequins?”

Dan blinks at him. Once. Twice. And then he dumps a cup of ice onto the man. The man cackles and cackles, like a wheezing hyena, before straightening out.

“Yeah, I figured you’d say that.”

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #batpham #danny phantom crossover #dan phantom

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peachesofteal · 11 months

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On a Slow Night

Belongs in the Dead Disco - verse, but can be read as standalone.

Ghost/Soap/female reader 8.5k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI. Dominant/submissive. Smut of all kinds: male oral receiving, female oral receiving, barebacking, rimming, vaginal sex, anal sex, orgasm control and denial, creampie. Praise kink. Double Penetration. Possessive Simon Riley. Aftercare. Angst. Jealousy. Anxiety. Emotional hurt/comfort. Porn with feelings. Relationship issues. Simon takes control. This is a FLASHBACK, but I chose not to italicize the entire thing. Takes place before Chap 1 of Dead Disco.

It’s the tone of your voices that wakes Simon from where he sleeps, alone in the bed. It’s the sharp, raw edge of your words, your pitch dipped in malcontent, and Johnny’s low, harsh spitting, that has him sitting straight up, eyes narrowed, listening with intent.

You’re fighting. About what? Your voice peaks an octave, and then drops immediately, broken up by the crest of a sob, a sound of distress that has him out of bed and into the kitchen within a second’s time.

“What is going on here?” He asks quietly, and Johnny returns his query with a pleading gaze, but you stare a spot on the countertop, eyes flush with tears. When the two of you stay silent, a flare of irritation creeps up his spine. “Well?”

“It’s-“ Johnny begins but you speak over him, cutting him off efficiently.

“I have to go to work.” You say to no one in particular, to your feet more than either of them. He glances at the clock and grimaces. If you don’t leave in the next five to ten minutes, you’ll be late. Not nearly enough time. You grab your bag, and your mug, turning on your heel for the door. Acid rises in the back of his throat when he realizes that you’re not even going to say goodbye to them, not going to kiss him, or Johnny, not going to let them tell you to have a good day or let Simon fuss over making sure you have your water bottle and your laptop charger, two things that commonly get left on the table.

When the door swings shut, lead settles in his stomach while Johnny folds his hands, fingers battling each other with anxiety.

“Johnny.” He breathes. “What the fuck?”

“She wasn’t listening to me, and then it just… got out of control. I snapped at her.” Simon rubs the spot between his shoulder blades in a circle, nodding while Johnny breaks down everything that happened. The replay of last night. The sequence of events this morning, everything up until when Simon appeared from the bedroom, and you darted out the door.

You had been crying, this morning, when Johnny got up as he usually does to see you off to work. It’s a cherished part of his routine, when they’re home. Having breakfast with you, talking about your day, or not talking at all, just enjoying a few quiet moments before you leave, helping you put together your work bag or making you a cup of coffee. But this morning, when you were unusually frosty, and he had asked you what was wrong, you had tried to brush him off, tried to tell him what you were thinking was stupid, and that you didn’t want to talk about it.

And Johnny couldn’t have that. He knew what you were dwelling on, knew the streak of jealousy from last night was still present, sitting heavily on your mind. He tried to push you, kept prodding, ignoring the warning signs, blowing past your indicators that you were in an extremely sensitive state, until you turned on him with a snarl, body language tense and face closed off.

“Did you have him more than twice then?” you had asked, “Was he like me?”

“No one is like you, darling.” Johnny had tried to assure you, comfort you, but it fell flat.

“Yeah, okay. Why then, did you always tell me, you never slept with anyone more than once… and then there’s a guy in the bar not even down the fucking block that the two of you conveniently forgot to mention you shared at least twice!”

“You should have woken me.” He keeps the bitterness from his voice, but Johnny doesn’t need it to know that Simon is upset. He reads him too easily.

“I thought everything was fine. ‘m sorry.” Simon knows he believed that, that he really did think everything was fine. After all, they brought you home last night and spent hours in bed, reassuring, reconfirming your place with them, until you were happy and sated, asleep in their arms with a little smile on your face. He runs his fingers through the mohawk soothingly.

“Everyone’s a little on edge right now, I think.” It’s not an excuse, but the truth. It was a longer op, and the time between this most recent one and the one before was hardly even a week. Not to mention, Johnny almost got himself blown up during this one, and Simon pulled a muscle in his back in the first week. They’ve been home for two weeks now, and their emotional states are still a little more fragile than either of them would care to admit, while you were trying so damn hard to keep yourself together for them, to keep your chin up. Simon knows it’s because you don’t want to feel like a burden, that you think you depending on them causes additional stress, but he’s seen the cracks in the surface for a few days, so it did not particularly surprise him when you crumbled last night. He’s been waiting, and waiting, impatiently, for you to let go, for you to drop the mask and let them step in.

He just didn’t want it to be like this.

Simon’s phone vibrates against the coffee table in the late afternoon, alerting both of them from where they sit on the couch. Johnny fidgets nervously, and Simon stills him with a firm grip on his thigh while he opens the text.

It’s in the group chat, between the three of you. A quick note that you’re going to be late tonight, and they shouldn’t wait to eat dinner. Simon scowls.

“Late?” Johnny questions, while Simon types a reply: ‘How late?’

Your answer comes a minute later: ‘Not sure. I have a fast-approaching deadline for this exhibit review that I’m behind on and if it’s not done, the director will ream me.’

Simon lets out a burst of a sigh, body expanding and relaxing with tense pressure while he types: ‘We’ll wait for you darling, don’t worry about that.’

You reply almost immediately: ‘You don’t have to.’ He frowns. Avoidance? It’s rare, from you. You usually get so full up with your own thoughts and feelings that you physically can’t avoid something, having to address it, talk about it, until you feel better, until it’s not overpowering you anymore. Johnny shifts next to him, blue eyes stricken while he reads from the screen.

“Is she… avoiding us?” He too, recognizes it, this outlier. Simon texts back. ‘We will.’

Three bubbles pop up on the screen, and then disappear.

It’s far past late by the time you get home. Johnny has taken to pacing around the flat, doing laundry and other things to occupy his mind, detailing the grout in the bathroom and nervously flitting about doing fuck all while Simon sits on the couch, trying to read a book and failing.

They’ve both been sitting in the living room for an hour by the time ten pm rolls around and you walk through the door, the sun long set, night overtaking the city and drenching it in an inky darkness that spreads throughout their home as well.

“Hi.” You drop your bag unceremoniously on the table, crossing your arms. Defensive posture, Simon notes. This is going to go real bloody well. “You really didn’t have to wait for me.” You complain, looking between the two of them, lingering for a long moment. Johnny stands, preparing, and Simon notices how your shoulders slump, just a fraction, tense energy leaking from your body while you lock eyes with him.

“I’m sorry.” He blurts, eagerly. “I’m so, so sorry love. I shouldn’t have pushed you this morning. I lost my head… I was worried and I- I have no excuse. I should not have snapped at you. You are so precious to me, and I never, ever want to make you feel that way.” He steps closer, and closer, tentative hand in the air, reaching for you while Simon holds his breath, waiting to see how you’ll respond. He’s waiting for the inevitable, the crumble, the fall of everything you’ve been holding in, all the feelings and thoughts and rot you’ve been holding up. The emotional catharsis. The breaking point.

It doesn’t come.

Instead, you heave a big, loud sigh, and wilt into Johnny’s arms.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry for being dramatic.” Dramatic? You’re not dramatic. They’ve told you this a thousand times. He frowns, something new twisting in his gut, a feeling of something being really wrong creeping through his bones. What is going on with you? Johnny’s too distracted by being relieved, being grateful for your easy forgiveness that he misses the way your eyes tighten before going lax again, and Simon watches you bury your head in neck immediately afterwards, your arms going around Johnny like you’re holding on for dear life. Simon follows you both as Johnny pulls you along with him into the kitchen, settling you at the counter on the stool while he pulls dinner from the oven, little savory chicken pies, one of your favorite meals, still warm and ready to be eaten, and you clap your hands with excitement when he places yours in front of you.

“You didn’t have to.” You gush, and Johnny blushes prettily, over the moon with the change in your mood, your smiling face.

“Simon, sit.” He points to the seat next to you, and he takes it, all while studying you, noticing everything from the way you’re holding your fork to what your free hand is doing in your lap. Johnny coughs. “What’s wrong?” his tone is suspicious, and you turn to look at Simon with wide, curious eyes. He forces a smile and shakes his head.

“Nothing.”

A week later, it all comes crashing down. It’s a Friday, and you’ve worked from home, spent most of the day alone in the flat while they both had to go across town for a brief before their scheduled departure in another week and a half. Johnny stops at the market on the way back, having promised everyone curry tonight, so Simon beats him home, eager to get out of his starched clothing and into sweats, and hopefully drag you away from work for the rest of the evening to sit on the couch with him, curled up in his lap while the two of you wait for Johnny to get home.

Instead, something else happens all together.

You’re pacing, in front of the kitchen table, hand on your neck while you stop occasionally to bend at the waist and read something on your laptop. You don’t even acknowledge him when the door opens, and as he gets closer, he realizes your hand isn’t just on your neck, but it has a fist full of hair in it as well, the strands pulled so tight it looks painful. Your breakfast sits untouched on a plate, pushed away, and your eyes dart around the room, briefly touching over him before flicking back to the screen.

“Darling?” he calls, taking his jacket off slowly. You ignore him, shaking your head like you’ve heard him but can’t be bothered to acknowledge him, typing away at something from your half standing, half bending position. He’s close enough to see an email chain on the screen, long paragraphs broken up, your cursor blinking in front of one half written.

“I’m sorry.” You say, not even sparing him a glance. “I’m sorry I’m just dealing with something right now, there’s a lot going on and-“ He stills you, pulling at your forearm, trying to loosen your grip around your hair that you’ve wrapped so tight, it’s made imprints in your skin.

“Hey.” He squeezes your wrist, just enough to pull your attention, eyes partially glazed over, like you’re not even really in your own head right now. “What is it?”

“Nothing. I’m just dealing with something, at work. There’s a lot going on.” You repeat it robotically, and he tilts his head in consideration, running a thumb under your jaw to tip your face upwards. There’s something… off, in your eyes. Something uneasy lurking in your gaze, something wrong, off balance.

“Alright. That’s enough work for today, I think.” He reaches past you and closes the laptop while you gasp a protest.

“Si, no! I have to finish, there’s stuff going on you don’t understand I need to-“

“Is anyone dying?”

“N-no but-“

“And it’s Friday, which means your boss isn’t back until Monday. It can wait.”

“I have to-“

“It can wait.” This time, he puts the authority behind his voice, the razor’s edge, to test the waters. To see, how you react.

You freeze. You’re holding your breath, eyes darting wildly around the flat like you’re looking for an escape of some sort. You reach for him, hand latching onto his forearm, and he realizes you’re shaking. He tries to pull you closer, but you lock up, immobile, except for the intense increase in your shivering.

“I’m sorry.” You gasp. “I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry, I don’t know- I d-don’t know what’s wrong I, I’m sorry.” You repeat it over and over, frantic, tipping into hysteria and he shoves down his own panic so he can do what he needs to do.

Take over.

Take control.

He grips the back of your neck, the motion signaling you to what will happen next, and then pulls you into his chest, head tipped down so his lips hover just over your ear.

“It’s alright darling, just breathe.” When you do, he rewards you with praise, light and affectionate. “Good girl, just like that.” He counts them for you, one in, one out, two in, two out, and so on until they come easily, and you relax more into him, breathing languid, body calm. “Okay, you’re going to get in the shower. You will tell me if you want me to get in with you, or you need my help with something, like washing your hair.” You gulp, and he soothes a hand down your spine. “Yes?” He prompts and you nod slowly before giving your agreement. Recognition, acceptance, dances across your face, and he knows you know.

“Yes, Simon.” He hums his own acknowledgement, and then manages to shoot a text off to Johnny while ushering you towards the bathroom, one hand firm on your nape.

‘Get home. Right now.’

He’s sitting on the bed facing the door when Johnny blows through it, eyes seeking his.

“What’s going on?” he rushes out. “What’s wrong?” Simon holds his hand up, a clear stop signal, and Johnny screeches to a halt, a few paces into the bedroom.

“Tell me your safe word, Johnny.” Johnny’s eyes go wide, and then glances at the bathroom door, where the shower runs, and the sound of a drawer opens and shuts. “Your safe word, MacTavish.” Simon repeats and Johnny swallows.

“It’s bomb, sir.”

“When do you use it?”

“When I need a hard stop.” Simon nods.

“Good. And what if you can’t speak?” He points to the floor, the intended directive incredibly clear, and Johnny sinks to his knees without another thought.

“Then I tap twice.” He whispers his answer, to which Simon nods.

“Good boy.”

“What’s going on?” He asks again, because he’s allowed to, but Simon doesn’t answer. Instead he unzips his pants as he closes the distance between them, hand fisting his cock while he looms over where Johnny kneels.

“Open.” He pats his jaw, and Johnny parts his lips obediently, mouth glistening, wet and warm, waiting for Simon. He groans as he feeds him his cock slowly, pressing down against his tongue, choking him gradually, pulling out and pushing into his mouth with an achingly slow, leisurely pace. “What’s going on-“ he casually says, like he isn’t shoving the width of his cock into Johnny’s eager mouth. “is that I failed to take control of a rapidly deteriorating situation when I should have.” He rubs a hand through Johnny’s hair, admiring his sweet boy from this viewpoint, his crystal blue eyes and heavenly soft skin, perfect and pretty, just for him and you. It’s enough to make his knees fucking weak, with how much he loves him. How lucky Simon is, to have him. To have you both, like this. Sweet for him. Submissive for him. Willing, for him.

Which is why, when something like this happens, Simon is always the one who steps in and takes over. Who takes control.

He makes eye contact with Johnny while he pushes deeper, swiping his finger through the drool that drips from his bottom lip. “This is my fault, my responsibility. For not stepping in after that spat last week.” He draws out, holding the crown of his cock at Johnny’s messy lips, giving him a moment, a chance to speak, or tap, and breathe, before plunging back in, cramming himself to the hilt, until Johnny’s nose is pressed to the curls of his pubic hair. “But we’re going to fix that, now. We’re going to fix it all.” Johnny nods eagerly, humming with Simon shoved in his throat, the vibration sending a shiver up Simon’s spine.

The water in the shower shuts off, and they both hear the glass of the door open and shut. Simon pulls Johnny forward, walking him on his knees, cock still languishing in his mouth, until the back of his legs hit the bed and he sits, settling Johnny between his thighs and instructing him not to move, to just sit there and be a good cock warmer until he gives him another directive. Johnny’s eyes bliss out after a minute, and satisfaction warms Simon’s belly. Good boy.

The bathroom door creaks open, to reveal you wrapped in a towel, cautiously peeking out at the two of them, feet arched like a dancers, walking on your tip toes.

“Um.” You squeak. You’ve got a wall back up; he can already tell. Whatever cracked earlier when he got home has been patched over, and he sighs, all the while, delicious anticipation curls in his heart. He’s going to make both of you cry tonight.

“Darling.” He calls, steeling his voice. You need a stronger hand, in times like these. You’re headstrong, and resilient, and stubborn, all of these things that make you just that more special to him, to Johnny. But these things can also get you hurt. They can derail you, bully you into pushing through when you clearly need the opposite, when you desperately need to break instead. Good thing he’s happy to help. He points to the bottle of lube on the dresser near you, a silent command, and you grip it in nervous fingers as you creep closer. When you’re within arm’s reach, he pulls you down to his mouth for a kiss, something gentle and loving, a tender reminder of his love for you, before pulling away and pointing at the floor, right next to Johnny.

“What is your safe word?” Your eyes flick to Johnny, who doesn’t move, just stays steady, even with Simon’s cock pressed against his tongue.

“It’s, uh. Paint.” He nods. The hesitation wasn’t because you don’t know your word, he knows that. It’s because your brain is trying to piece together what exactly is happening at a rapid pace, to try to prepare you.

“Good girl. When do you use it?”

“When I need to stop.”

“And if you can’t speak?”

“I tap three times.” You and Johnny’s taps are different, so he can differentiate them, if ever need be. It’s never been necessary, but he’d rather be safe, than be sorry when it came to either of you.

“You tap three times.” He repeats, and then pulls at your towel, which you let go willingly. Both he and Johnny are still fully clothed, which will be remedied eventually, but for now, he’s content to sit here with your body bare to him, the swell of your hips and breasts, the sheen of your still damp skin, sending lust licking down his spine.

You sit perfectly, palms above your knees, knees together while he thrusts very gently in Johnny’s mouth, not nearly enough, but adequate for right now, considering his release is likely hours away. You watch, mouth slack, eyes lidded, thighs shifting just barely, and he smirks to himself. He was so pleasantly surprised when they found you. When he discovered you fit so perfectly, with them. When he learned what your face looks like when you come for them. He was scared, terrified, but still surprised, when he realized he was thinking about you on ops, when he realized that Johnny was thinking about while on ops. And he was shocked when you started to let them in. Let them take care of you, let them see you. It didn’t take long before he wanted more and more and Johnny met him on it blow for blow, until they were both commandeering all your time when they weren’t on missions and when the three of you were laughing in bed in the middle of night, swapping stories and daydreaming about a future.

A future that he thought was impossible.

A future that is now more in his grasp than it ever has been before.

If they don’t make a fucking mess of it.

He pulls Johnny off his cock by his mohawk, lips making a wet pop while he tips his head backwards, latching their mouths together. Simon pushes his tongue inside, sweeping between his teeth, tasting the salted remnant of himself, before pulling away.

“Take off your clothes, get in the shower, be quick.” He orders, and Johnny scrambles to his feet, hastily working his buttons and boots, stripping as quickly as he can manage while practically running to the bathroom. “Darling, come here.” He pats his leg, and you hoist yourself onto the bed, allowing him to pull and arrange you so you straddle his thigh. You’re already wet, he can see the evidence of your need, your want, on his leg, and he presses his thumb against your bottom lip. “What happened to my darling girl?” He asks, and you blink, confused. “What happened to our sweet, sensitive girl who knows it’s okay to depend on us for what she needs?” Your brow furrows.

“I’m right here.” You whisper and he shakes his head.

“I don’t think you are.” He kisses your cheek, and then the tip of your nose while gripping you by the back of your neck. “I think you’ve been shoving your feelings down into the dark somewhere. Afraid to let go for some reason.”

“Simon…no.” your whisper is heavy now, tinged with something sad, something reluctant. It’s not the tears he’s looking for, not yet, but he’ll get you there. He always does.

“That’s alright love. We’re going to fix it.” He assures you, and strokes a featherlight touch across your thighs, listening to the sharp intake of breath that hisses between your teeth when he strokes over the seam of your cunt, just enough to feel the seep of wetness there, before tracing up to roll one of your nipples between his fingers. Your teeth bite down into your bottom lip while he’s content to sit there just like that for a while, teasing you until the bathroom door opens, revealing a naked Johnny, standing in the frame, waiting for instruction.

“Johnny.” He says, not taking his eyes off you, still holding you with one hand by the neck. He releases your nipple to motion to the side of the bed, a glaringly open space where his Sergeant’s body belongs. “On your back.” He obliges him easily, leaning backwards, stretching his toned abdomen long, the swell of his cock laying against his belly, leaking precome in a lazy, wonderful way that makes Simon’s mouth water a little. He holds your jaw in his fingers and turns your head to look at Johnny. “Isn’t he lovely?” He murmurs into your ear, and you try to nod.

“Perfect.” You breathe, and he agrees. Johnny is perfect, Johnny is the love of his life, his partner, forever. Unmatchable. Irreplaceable. Irreplicable.

And so are you, even if you don’t realize it yet.

“Here are the rules.” He begins, shifting you to lay next to him, also on your back. Your knees are bent, and you let one go lax, knocking into Johnny’s, exposing your bare pussy just so for Simon, just a glimpse. His blood heats, and he starts to strip off his clothes while he speaks. “You, darling. Don’t get to come unless I give you permission.” You wiggle against the sheets, anticipation brewing in your eyes. Your hand reaches for Johnny’s, and he interlaces his fingers with yours in a heartbeat. “Johnny, can come at any time as long as he asks for permission, and he can come when you do, without permission.” His eyes snap incredulously to Simon, who allows a wicked smile to scrawl across his face. He leans over the two of you, kissing Johnny’s shoulder and then yours. “Johnny’s going to put your plug in, love. Because we’re both going to have you later.” He tells you, and you visibly brighten, excitement pushing your cheeks into a smile. It’s not an easy thing, to take them both, and something that only happens with enough prep and time, both of which he plans on having tonight.

He pulls the plug from the drawer in the nightstand, handing it to Johnny with the bottle of lube, and you turn obediently onto your knees, ass up in the air, cheek laying on Simon’s thigh. He strokes your skin soothingly while Johnny compresses the plug in his hand, warming the cool metal with a huff of breath, and then spreading lube over the ring of muscle between your cheeks, dipping his thumb in and out of you painstakingly slowly, just pushing against the rim as it flutters for him. You whimper.

“Like what you see?” Simon drawls, and Johnny nods.

“Okay, ready?”

“Y-yeah.” You croak. You usually take the plug no problem, but that’s also after a few orgasms, and a few fingers. They don’t usually use it as the warmup act. Johnny’s thumb for a handful of minutes is not quite as good, but you’re experienced now, and Simon is intending to use the burn of the stretch to his advantage, hoping the sting and bite speeds you along to the point of no return. Simon rubs your shoulders, while Johnny lowers it towards where you’re spread for him.

“Okay darling, nice and easy.” He coaches.

“Push out.” Simon reminds you, and you do, letting out a puff of air against his thigh. He massages your arm, your wrist soothingly, and you hiss, your reaction letting him know you’re spreading over the widest part. “Well done.” He murmurs, stroking some hair away from your temple. “Good girl.” You give him a syrupy smile, eyes a little dazed, and he rewards you with a kiss, before pulling both Johnny and you into his embrace. “I love you.” He vows. “We are going to correct whatever it is that has our girl all mixed up.” You huff indignantly, playfully, and he pinches your cheek in response. He loves this stubborn streak of yours but loves to break it even more. He presses his mouth against your neck, and then up to your lips, drawing breathy rasps from you with his lips, pulling you back up to a seated position against him, in between his thighs, spreading your legs to give Johnny a perfect view.

“Christ.” Johnny hisses, reaching out to touch you, dragging a finger through your soaking folds. You whimper, and he thinks reality is truly setting in for you now, the realization of the task ahead. He lets his own hand carefully drift down to your cunt, fingers exploring your body while you practically buzz in his arms, nerve endings already alight from the plug that’s settled in your ass.

“Shhh.” He soothes when he feels just how soaked you are, feels how hard your clit is beneath his touch while you jerk in his grasp, one arm pinning you against his chest. “Poor darling.” He works you slowly, feeling how your body responds to him, your hips moving in small, bucking movements. It goes on for minutes that feel like hours, until you’re whining and chasing his touch with your body.

“Simon.” You whimper.

“Johnny, will you taste her for me?” He asks to which Johnny eagerly agrees, bending to press his face into your eager cunt. He sucks at your clit before stroking his tongue up and down, sloppily eating you out, flicking your clit over and over while you pant.

“P-please, Simon. Please.” You plead, and he licks a salt-sweat trail up your neck to below your ear, where he plants a delicate kiss on the skin under your earlobe. Your body thrashes, trying to get more leverage, trying to grind against Johnny’s face but he wraps his legs around yours, pinning you effectively with his thighs. You whine, and your fingers sink into his flesh, your body pressing into his back, like you’re bearing down, preparing to come all over Johnny’s face.

“Don’t come.” He orders. You gasp, and he watches your stomach tense and flex, while he plays with your nipples lazily.

“Fuck.” You moan, and Johnny groans, eyes flicking up to where the two of you watch him.

“Don’t let her come, Johnny. Or it will be your punishment.” He says, and you squirm in his arms. Johnny pulls away, mouth soaked with you, and slides a deft finger into your cunt, twisting his wrist for the correct leverage. He’s smiling in a half sweet, half smirking way, watching his finger disappear inside of you unabashedly. Simon joins him, reaching down for where your clit is throbbing, pad of his finger swirling in the absolute mess between your legs before rubbing around your swollen nub’s hood, and then pushing inside of you next to Johnny’s digit, your body greedily accepting them both, cunt clenching hard around them.

“Oh my god.” Your head rocks back into Simon’s chest, panting with desperation. “Fuck, fuck I- I ca-can’t.” you protest, eyes smarting with tears, and he pulls away, trailing his touch back up to your clit, where he gives it a light pinch.

“Don’t you dare.” He demands and you shriek when he slaps your pussy, palm making contact with your clit, your legs jolting under his thighs. He brushes some hair from your face, your forehead damp with sweat, before pressing a kiss to your temple and reaching for Johnny’s cock, wrapping a fist around it and stroking him slowly. You’re still leaning against his back, but slouched now, and he can see the swell of your clit, the glisten of your thighs, soaked with your own arousal, from where he sits. “Do you want to feel him inside you, darling?” He asks, squeezing your flesh. You nod readily, shifting, until you’re spread wider, and he’s pulling your leg up by your knee, and then your calf. “Go ahead, Johnny. Give her your cock.” He watches when Johnny pushes inside of you, your body eagerly taking him, stretching around him. You hiss while he moves, clenching your eyes shut for a moment, before taking a deep breath, and letting go a little, body depressurizing gradually. It’s snug, he’s sure, with the plug and Johnny inside of you, and he rubs your clit in a circle, watching your face, delighted. When Johnny starts to pick up a faster pace, he presses his hand to his stomach, slowing him.

“Does that feel good?” he asks you, looking up at Johnny who’s watching the glide of his cock pump in and out of your pussy, agonizingly slow, his legs practically shaking with restraint.

“Unnf- I-“ you babble, hands against your chest. You’re concentrating, face intense, and he knows you’re trying so bloody hard not to come. Trying to be good.

“Do you want it faster?” He asks, fake sincerity dripping from his voice. You nod hastily, and he inclines his head to Johnny, who reads the signal well, picking up his pace, body slamming into yours while you practically scream in Simon’s arms.

“Si- Simon.” You sputter and wheeze. “Please, can I come?” your voice is thick, and he makes a show of appearing like he considers it before shaking his head with a simple no.

“No, darling. Slow down, Johnny.” Johnny groans, pressing his face into where your calf is still raised in the air, nipping at your skin while he drags his cock in and out of your body, excruciatingly slow.

“Nononono. Pl-please, Johnny- Harder.” Simon shakes his head, and Johnny face screws up, like he’s about to cry. He thrusts deep and Simon presses down on your lower belly, causing you to cry out. “Fuck, oh, fu-fuck. Oh- Si. I’m gonna-“

“No.” He pushes Johnny back, causing him to pull halfway out, and you whimper. “I think you need a break.” He murmurs, and you shake your head violently.

“No, no no, please…” But your pleading is no use, because Johnny’s already pulling away, leaving you empty and wanting. Simon motions for him to turn around, and he does eagerly, returning to his back, knees to the ceiling.

“Can you get our good boy ready for me?” He asks you, pitching his voice affectionately. “Don’t you think he deserves some attention?” You shake the stupor off, legs shaking underneath you while you lick your lips, and bend forward, crawling between Johnny’s thighs and perking your ass up into the air, right in front of Simon while you take Johnny’s cock between your lips. You’re trying to tempt him, trying to get him to plunge his cock inside of you, to make you come.

He wants to. He wants to so badly, he reaches a hand down to squeeze your flesh appreciatively, and you moan around Johnny, the vibration of your throat making the muscles in his thighs tense. You briefly glance over your shoulder before you adjust, your tongue dragging downwards over Johnny, where you prop his thigh on your shoulder and start to prep him for Simon, little grunts and whispers loosing from his lips while you work. You use your tongue first, lavishing his rim, slowly coaxing him into a relaxed state while you push into him, just barely. You stay like that for a while, working him open slowly, while Simon leisurely watches, occasionally ghosting a hand over your skin, or trailing his finger from where you’re dripping wet and swirling it around where your own rim is stretched around the plug, your muscles jumping and tensing beneath his touch. You’ll take them both tonight, and even though he clearly already made that decision, the image of you being full of both him and Johnny wracks him with a delicious shiver. Johnny moans, pulling his attention, to where you’ve got a finger pressing inside him now, dipping in and out of him gradually, teasingly, spit dripping from your mouth onto his perineum. You add a second, and Johnny groans, back arching just so when you crook your fingers up, seeking the spot that makes him lose his mind.

“Bloody- hell.” Simon can just barely see the curve of your lip, the evidence of your smile, your pure enjoyment when Johnny reacts to you, and it flushes him with something warm, something so sweet and soft it manages to surprise him. Only for them.

“That’s it, good girl.” He praises you self-indulgently, because he knows what it does to you, knows how it can derail your focus and turn you to putty in their hands. “D’ya think he’s ready?” You nod, two fingers still stroking slowly inside of Johnny, pulling pleasure from him while you beam, his body pliant and sweet for Simon. He swats your ass because he can’t help it, loves to watch how your skin ripples under him, how your body moves for him, and you quiver.

He pulls you away, kissing the back of your neck while he shifts Johnny to the edge of the bed by his legs, moving him so his calves sit on Simon’s shoulders. Johnny locks eyes with him for a moment, and there’s something vulnerable there, something so gentle that Simon can’t help but drop his ankles and press his body on top of his, cradling Johnny’s face between his palms, kissing him softly.

“Alright?” he asks, and Johnny nods, eagerly before letting out a scratchy reply.

“Fuck me already.” He begs, and Simon chuckles, rearing up, pushing his knees towards his chest. You lay on your back, panting next to Johnny, staring up at Simon with wide, thirst filled eyes. He pulls one of your knees wide, admiring your weeping cunt, before pressing into Johnny slowly, giving him time to adjust, and the feel of him around his cock shoots straight to Simon’s brain, filling him with dizzying satisfaction. His body gives way for him, stretching to fit him just as he always does, and something burns inside Simon, some fierce feeling of possession, of love, fills him when he watches how Johnny’s face shifts the deeper he gets.

“Y’ feel so good.” He growls it, and Johnny moans, his muscles going taut as Simon works his cock in and out of Johnny’s body, the rhythm growing faster and faster, Johnny’s voice becoming desperately sharp whines and pleas.

“More, Si. F-fuck, more.” And he’s tempted, so tempted to fuck wildly into Johnny, to fill him with his come, but there’s more, there’s so much more to this night than the easy way out, and he has to take it slow.

“Christ, Johnny. Yer so fuckin’ tight.” He groans, folding himself forward to drag his lips across his skin in worship. Johnny moans, loudly, and Simon grinds his hips against his ass, pushing deep, fucking into Johnny unforgivably, grinding against the little sweet spot while his cock dribbles pathetically onto his belly. He strokes him, hand squeezing around the base on the down stroke, staving off a potential orgasm each time. Johnny shudders as Simon increases his pace, pumping faster, harder, all while squeezing the base of his cock, watching how Johnny writhes for him. “Touch yourself, love.” He instructs you, and your finger swirls around your clit, eyes locked on the two of them, drinking up the sight of them fucking like you always do, and the sound of their skin slapping together echoes around the room while you whimper.

“Si-“ He howls, walls fluttering around Simon, his cock swollen and red, desperate to spill every time Simon grinds against him. He’s already so close, worked up after being inside of you, ready to come at any moment. “Shite, I- I-“

“What’s the rule, MacTavish?” He snarls, and Johnny blanches.

“Please can I come, I need ta come, please sir-“ he chokes off when Simon rubs his thumb over his tip, smearing the leaking precome around his head, while still plunging his cock through and through his body. You whimper, voice desperate, gaze wide, and he can tell that you’re close too. Perfect.

“What a good boy, Johnny. Telling me what you need.” He tuts. “Do you want me to make you come?” There are tears in Johnny’s eyes, one spilling out down past his temple, and it’s a beautiful sight.

“Yes, y-es, cannae- fuck.” Simon glances over to you, where you’re frozen on the bed, hand not moving, suspended in the air, and he smirks. Smart girl. Johnny’s orgasms always push you over the edge.

“Come for me then, come on. Let me see it.” He releases his grip from the base of Johnny’s shaft, pumping him once, twice, before Johnny’s body is locking up and he’s screaming, walls strangling down on Simon’s cock so much that he has to completely stop moving, otherwise he’ll come too. He strokes his cock through the orgasm, until it’s too much and Johnny’s whimpering through the overstimulation, hand trying to grab Simon’s wrist. “Good boy, did so well for me.” He murmurs, leaning forward to kiss him, slotting his lips against Johnny’s and giving him gentle, measured kisses until his breathing returns to normal and Simon is pulling his cock from his body slowly. He checks him, quickly, for tearing or damage, and then sweeps stray mohawk hairs from his forehead, giving him another honeyed kiss. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Johnny responds, a little dazed but satisfied, and Simon leans over to you, brushing his lips across your kneecap, before cupping your pussy gently and pressing down on your clit.

“Don’t move.” He orders, rising from the bed, pulling a washcloth from the bathroom and cleaning himself efficiently with soap and warm water, before discarding it and returning to the two of you with a new one.

When he steps back onto the bed, Johnny’s laying curled around you, arms holding you tight to him, your face in his neck, chest heaving, and it’s enough to give him pause, reminding him to take a moment. He presses a palm against your spine, encouraging you to look at him, allowing you to take your time when you turn your head. You have a faraway look in your eye, a little bit of discomfort, a little bit of confusion, but no tears. Time to check in.

“How old are you, darling?” He asks you gently, tapping Johnny on the thigh to turn over so he can wipe him down. When you give your answer, and your voice doesn’t shake, he feels a little better.

“And what is today?” When you give the date, with the day of the week, he smiles, kissing you on the cheek.

“Good.” He cleans Johnny slowly, basking in the whimpers that slip free when he presses the warm cloth to the head of his cock, before tossing it in the corner of the room. He’s still rock hard, desperate with want for the two of you, just as desperate as you are to come, he imagines. He wrenches you into his lap to straddle him again, cradling your face to take you in one more time before starting again and you draw a shaky breath. He pulls you onto your knees, instructing you to hover over where he fists his cock, and then grips your hip and drives you down slowly, the heat and silk of your walls clutching him greedily, desperate for what he’s about to give you. Catharsis. Release.

“Good girl.” You moan and he calms you, reaching for Johnny’s hand, pulling him close until he’s pressed against your back, already hard again. Lucky boy, Simon muses, gets to come twice today. “You’ve been bloody perfect for me, darling. We’re so lucky.” He starts, setting everything in motion, putting the train on the tracks and loading it with coal. He returns to cradle your face, rubbing his thumbs across your cheeks while he bottoms out in you, Johnny pressing the sweetest kisses to your shoulder. “You’re everything to us.” He says, and watches you start to crack, watches the pressure start to rise. “We couldn’t be happier with you.” Like lighting the fuse of a rocket. You blink, quickly, in rapid succession, like you’re trying to get a handle on yourself, and he swipes over your clit before asking you if you’re okay for the next. “Do you feel ready to take Johnny here?” His hand drifts down your back to twist the plug, and your eyes shutter.

“Yeah, please.” You answer breathlessly.

“Slowly.” He tells Johnny, who lets out a breathy sigh. Simon strokes your clit while Johnny works you, pulling the plug free and lining himself up with your stretched rim, your cunt squeezing him with each pass over your swollen numb, your jaw slack with bliss, face tranquil and open like your body until he can feel Johnny’s cock inside you, and your eyes widen, breath choking off in a gasp.

“Jesus.” Johnny moans, hardly even moving, but feeling the press of Simon’s cock against his inside of you, only the tissue of your walls separating the two of them. Simon grits his teeth, holding you still by the grip he has on your hips, thrusting upwards into you very, very sluggishly. He thumbs your clit again, working in a circular motion, pressing at just the right angle, the touch sending sparks through your body, jolting your muscles into squeezing around both of them. Simon pulls Johnny’s hand forward, snaking it around your waist to press against your belly, pulling you back while also pushing down, the pressure making your lower lip quiver and eyes gloss over.

“That’s it.” Simon praises, still stroking your clit while jerking his cock up into your body. You jolt, and Simon holds you steady, pressing more firmly while murmuring sweetly to you. “So beautiful.” He kisses your neck. “So sweet for us.” He kisses your clavicle. “So breathtaking. You make us so happy, darling.” Johnny thrusts a little, just enough to get some friction, eyes slipping shut in a haze of pleasure and Simon can’t not marvel at the two of you, how perfectly you fit together, how sublime this entire moment is. Almost there. He works his hips up faster, not enough to jostle the three of you, but enough that delicious sparks of fire are moving through his body, and your cunt is twitching on his cock. You tense around him, muscles turning solid, and Johnny lets out a string of curses while Simon keeps his sights locked on you, his fingers pushing you closer and the closer to the orgasm you’ve been desperately chasing for hours. You stare back at him, eyes wide, brows creased as he thumbs your clit, and he watches with the deepest satisfaction as they grow wetter and wetter, tears gathering along your lids like you’re giving him a gift. “There you go.” He coos, and your body responds, heat pooling around his cock. “We love you so much. You’re doing so good for us, darling girl.” The tears spill down your cheeks now, and you sob, all while sinking your fingers into his shoulders, shuddering recklessly, not even caring that Johnny is buried inside of you, the sporadic movement sending him deeper and deeper.

“Please Si.” You cry, and paw helplessly at him. “Pl- please I need to come.” You gasp it, raw and frantic, and he continues to stroke your clit.

“Good girl. Thank you for telling me what you need.” He grinds his cock into you and you keen, right before he finally gives you permission to let go. “Come for us.” He says and it happens nearly automatically, your hips jutting back, and then forward, body locking down on both of them while you scream through your climax, and they both fuck you through it, Simon wildly chasing his own while Johnny spasms behind you, your walls milking them both with the waves of your orgasm. His own nearly blinds him, burning him with white hot pleasure, the feeling of filling you with his come at the same as Johnny igniting something possessive and out of control in his heart. He throbs inside you through his aftershocks, coming down from an impossible high, fingers groping blindly against you and Johnny to bring you both closer.

You sob in his arms, completely wrecked and shaking, like he knew you would be, finally broken, finally free.

“Shhh.” He murmurs, guiding your face into his neck where you wet his skin with hot tears. Johnny shifts, rubbing your back, kissing your shoulder blades before pulling out slowly, his come dripping from your rim, sliding down your skin to mix where Simon’s leaks from your cunt. “Shhh, we’re here, we’re right here.” He moves to pull out, so he can carry you into the bathroom, or lay you down, but you hold him tighter, breaths coming in sharp pants, and you cry harder into his skin. It’s not just the sex, or the orgasm denial, or any of it, but something more, something complicated that lives within you, that settles darkly against your soul sometimes. “It’s alright. Breathe, just breathe. You’re okay, you did so good.” Johnny presses light kisses to your temple, your cheek, all while rubbing your back with a firm, grounding touch.

“Washcloth.” He mouths to Simon, voice just above a whisper, and Simon agrees, reaching for his hand before he gets up, holding it tight in his grip and pulling him in for a kiss. If you notice Johnny’s absence after he slips away, you don’t say anything, steadily keeping your face buried in Simon’s neck until he gets back, breath stuttering in a choked hiss when you flinch away from the wet fabric against your skin.

“I need to clean you up, love.” Johnny gently dabs you with the cloth, moving you as needed to check for bruising or tearing, just as Simon does for him, before tossing it on the bed, and holding you by your upper arms.

“Bathroom.” Simon instructs, and Johnny nods, pulling you from his lap, displacing Simon’s cock and cuddling you into his arms, while Simon follows behind. You’re still crying, but you let Johnny place you on the toilet, mumbling for him to ‘get out’ while you pee, so they both stand on the other side of the door, even though it’s half open. They don’t leave you alone after something like this, as a rule, choosing to wait just a few steps away instead. While they do, Simon holds Johnny in his arms, rocking him back and forth from their standing position, caressing gentle fingers through his hair.

“I love you.” He whispers, the full effect of his own emotions cresting over him like a tidal wave, leaving him both wrecked and overflowing, while Johnny smiles. “I love you both.”

“I know. I love you too, Si.” They stay like that, until you come out, hands reaching for them, a little bit panicky like you thought maybe they disappeared, and Simon scoops you back into his arms, carrying you into bed while Johnny takes care of himself, and works on the aftercare list: pain cream, hot washcloth, water, snacks.

You burrow yourself in the blankets, tucking into Simon, face still teary while he speaks softly to you, telling you how good you were, how happy you make them, how proud he is of you, soothing your vibrant emotions until Johnny comes back, and they trade off so Simon can get cleaned up. Johnny will need aftercare too, time curled up in Simon’s arms, but they’ll do it after yours, sticking to the routine that has always worked for the three of them.

Simon’s grateful to see you slipping into a dream-like state upon his return, happy and floating, no longer crying with eyes soft and full of bliss, content in Johnny’s hold, half empty water bottle on the bed. He slides in between the blankets, his own body lax and sated, and reaches for Johnny and you, anxious to hold his whole world in his arms at this moment, unwilling to give it up or let it go for anything.

His Johnny. His darling. His.

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insilanar · 4 months

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Any lestappen fic rec to share ? 😣 Any favourite author on ao3! I need some!

Hi anon 😘 Of course! In fact I've actually been working on a personal fic rec, so I'm glad I get to share it with you!

Here you go, hope you enjoy <3

Lestappen fic rec

Short-ish fics 🩵

control systems a College AU by @itsgoingdutchin2021 | 1.2 k

Summary:

Due to an unfortunate encounter in their freshman year, both Charles and Max hate each other. Then they are assigned a group project.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

your hands are cold a High School AU by dhufflebee | 3.9 k

Summary:

“I feel like this event should really be called ‘Frosty Fusion’ or something like that.”“That is, of course, incredibly stupid.”“Hey!”“It doesn’t mean that ‘Snowmen Competition’ isn’t the most boring name ever, though.”OR: long-time friends and rivals Charles and Max hail from neighboring schools, and brave the biting cold, the challenges of snow sculpture, and their own buried feelings

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Kiss It Goodbye (Your Little Panic Attack) F1 Fic by @celientjeee | 5.1 k

Summary:

‘What- How did you do that?’ Charles asked, he still felt a bit shaken and hot, but the tingling had disappeared.Max smiled at him and let his hands drop away from Charles’ cheeks.‘I once read that holding your breath could stop a panic attack and when I kissed you, you held your breath.’‘I did?’ Charles winced at how high his voice sounded. OR: Charles gets a panic attack and Max helps him (more than once)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Fics between 10 k and 20 k 🧡

Cheating at Bingo and Other Christmas Traditions a Cozy Winter AU by @wanderingblindly | 12.4 k

Summary:

"You know, there’s a very nice, very handsome young man in my neighborhood –” She starts back up, flagging down their waiter for another glass of wine.“Absolutely not,” He cuts her off with a dismissive wave of the hand. “Next topic.”“So you’re too good for him, is that it?” She sounds defensive, but her tone still has a mocking edge to it – emphasized by the quirk of her brows.Hardly holding back a groan, Charles tries to think of a way out of this. She’s like a cat, batting at him until he gives up, rolls over, and plays dead. “That’s not – I’m just busy, and it’s –” OR: Hallmark style fluff featuring an irritated Charles, a well-meaning Max, and the grandma that just wants them to kiss

Rating: General Audiences

Golden Hour a Uni AU by Chariots4 | 13.2 k

Summary:

Max is a great roommate. So great that when Lando asks him to be part of a music video he’s filming he does so, without asking what it will be about.Turns out he will have to model with no other than Charles Leclerc. As lovers. The two men’s desire to not be outdone by the other takes the whole thing to new levels.

Rating: Explicit

-> This is also a personal favorite of mine since it was my first ever Formula 1 RPF fic and honestly, it's written amazingly well!👌

oui chef a Chef AU by @sunshineyoujustwait | 16.2 k

Summary:

There’s someone standing in his kitchen.He looks young, maybe close to Max’s age, with messy dark brown hair that’s pulled back from his face by a red bandana, and he’s leaning against the kitchen counter like he’s supposed to be here.Max’s first rather unhelpful thought is; fuck, he’s gorgeous. His second, more reasonable thought is;“Who the fuck are you?”“Charles Leclerc,” the man smiles. It's a little bit dazzling and Max is not at all distracted by it. He extends his hand for Max to shake. “I’m your new executive sous chef.” OR: Max is very happy with his life, thank you very much. He has his restaurant, his team, and two Michelin stars at the age of 24. He definitely does not need some pretentious Monegasque chef coming in and throwing everything into chaos.Except, maybe he does.

Rating: General Audiences

you got me a College AU by @fueledbyremembering | 16.6 k

Summary:

When Max looks up he stares into pretty green eyes behind black rimmed glasses. His hand is still blindly feeling around to find the books—his brain lagging—as he stares at the guy from last night. He straightens up and Max follows, staring dumbly as he holds out the books for Max to take.“Thanks,” Max says, feeling like an idiot as he takes the books, their fingers brushing for a split second. This was not how he wanted to meet again. “Again, I’m so sorry.”The guy smiles and Max thinks he might just die a little when he notices he has dimples. Of course he has dimples. OR: Max falls head over heels for the cute guy at a college party and he can't stop thinking about him (aka the lestappen college au nobody needs).

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Fics above 30 k ❤

Late night devil put your hands on me a Thief/Detective AU by @f1-giuki | 42.1 k

Summary:

"Do you want to know what is more incredible?" Max asks, staring at Charles' full and round pecs without any shame. "What?" Charles asks, enjoying how Max's cheeks get redder and redder as he licks clean the fork. "Stealing the Nine Pieces of Eight, with me," Max says and Charles drops his fork in the plate. "The Nine pieces of eight? Isn't that like a legend? The owner of those artworks is unknown…" The Monegasque asks, furrowing his brows. Max grins and rolls his eyes. "I know a guy..." Max says, pulling Charles close by the elastic band of his boxers. OR: World-class thief Max Verstappen asks Interpol Detective Charles Leclerc out on a date (to put on the world's most complicated heist ever conceived) but things never go as planned.

Rating: Mature

To Your Heart’s Content a Mafia AU by @cornerofacry | 119.4 k

Summary:

Max pinched the bridge of his nose as he went into the car. Before his chauffeur could close the door, however, Daniel leant in, having rushed from the bar’s entrance."I forgot to tell you…" the Australian begun, his face serious and grave.Max gritted his teeth, silently nodding for the man to continue. He couldn’t stand much more. He wanted to scream at the entire world. To run home and hide and force some sense down his own throat.To put himself back together."I left a- a gift at your house. For your birthday… I planned it long ago, before-""Alright," Max cut him, short and harsh. OR: Charles, a high end prostitute, finds himself in the arms of a man who really, really, cares for him, despite the gun on his nightstand.

Rating: Explicit

Favorite lestappen authors 💕

NovaCloud, Richardmarie75, WanderingBlindly, xxcelientje, amarynas, charlescoded, LestappenForever, linearity

Note to the authors: If your fic is on here and you would like me to take it down I will. Feel free to just dm me about it or drop and ask 😌

And anon I hope you find something you like on this list!

#anon ask #lestappen fic rec #charles leclerc #max verstappen #lestappen #f1

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einsvei · 5 months

Text

Embracing Frostiness .1

Pairing(s) : Kalim al Asim, Riddle Rosehearts, Malleus Draconia

❅ — about. "Your lips taste familiar. it's my favourite flavour, isn't it? Let me have another taste, please?"... ( 2.3k ) ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʷʰᶦᶜʰ ᶜʰᵃʳᵃᶜᵗᵉʳ ᶦˢ ᵐʸ ᶠᵃᵛᵒᵘʳᶦᵗᵉ. ᴵ'ᵐ ˢʰᵃᵐᵉˡᵉˢˢ.

☃︎ — warnings. Fluffy headcannons and mini scenarios, all SFW. If you count kissing and teasing as suggestive, then there's that. Here is my shitty Christmas present to the TWST fandom.

Setting: the boys are still NRC students and classes/studying are mentioned.

Kalim Al-Asim, Coconut.

"You taste sweeter than usual!"

As soon as your lips touch, he stills. A thousand questions run through his mind, and greedy for an answer, he continues to place eager kisses on your face. It tastes so familiar, but its nearly the last thing on his mind.

He could get addicted to the taste of your lips, he thinks. Will hum curiously and keep you pressed against him, rendering you unable to get away.

Even when you push him, desperate for a breath of air, his lips will without a fail chase yours. Would probably shamelessly lick you if he's feeling more playful. He'd definitely lick his own lips after the two of you separate, how evil.

Kalim is a lover of PDA. He wants everyone to know how much he loves you, and vice versa! kisses, hugs, hand holding, nothing is entirely off the table when it comes to you. It's how he greets you and says goodbye, one of the main ways to communicate the near suffocating amount of affection he holds for you and those he holds very dear.

But as soon as you start adding lip balm with specific flavouring, expect his kiss attacks to become increasingly more frequent— and by that, i mean, it's the only thing he can think about.

"What flavour is it today?"

"I hope it's the one from yesterday again!"

Kalim wouldn't mind any other choices of flavours you would choose, but you can tell how much more longing his stares get when you use the coconut one, saved for special occasions.

You can encourage him using this ( Jamil recommended, ) for rewards in tests, mock exams, finishing homework on time, or simply by doing well in class. It will work very efficiently, unsurprisingly so, and by consequence— expect a nod of approval from the vice housewarden every once and awhile.

He'll wonder absentmindedly during class, only brought back by Jamil's book snapping shut beside him. He can only smile sheepishly and apologise.

But if the prospect of being rewarded for his due diligence is on the table, he'd be remarkably concentrated and very passionate on the basis of schoolwork. Though, Kalim is still Kalim, so make sure to bring him back down to earth if his mind wanders. If classes are out, its free game in his books!

Anytime he'd see you, he would, without a doubt, steal kisses from you— whether it's in passing due to him being in a hurry or simply doing it distractedly. It's as if a switch had been flipped inside of him, and a deep craving of the syrupy taste of you is all he can think about.

"When did you buy this? do you have any more of it?"

Assuming that you would tell him it was simply an offhanded purchase, or a one time thing, he'd stare at you curiously, before nodding resolutely. You'd do well to remember that look, as it usually means that an incredible amount of money is about to be spent.

Kalim will make sure that you have a very large stock worth of flavoured lip balm or Chapstick always at the ready. He's giddy, nearly vibrating with excitement as he watched you pick them out at Sam's shop. If there isn't anything that catches your eye, don't worry! he'll contact his parents and get a couple crates fully stocked imported and sent straight to ramshackle.

If by some stroke of luck— or misfortune, Kalim is more mischievous that day, he will whine and pout; yet won't say anything. He'll expect you to already know what he wants, simply by his mood. Better give him those kisses he clearly yearns so much for.

Will follow you around with those wide eyes of his, trailing closely behind you like a lost puppy. The display is just so adorable, you can't help but shower him with all the kisses he wants; smooshing the apple of his cheeks.

Coconut is his favourite flavour, and you're one of his favourite people; so Kalim thinks it's the best of both of his most prized worlds.

He's very indulgent by nature, and he'll definitely take advantage of your willingness and play into your love for him in exchange for more sweet tasting kisses. It's your fault you got him addicted to the taste of you, y'know? make sure to take responsibility.

Riddle Rosehearts, Strawberry.

"Don't just kiss me out of nowhere! what? huh...there's something different?"

In common riddle fashion when it comes to physical affection, he'll completely freeze up, body going stock still.

His face is rapidly gaining a red hue, and it threatens to take over his entire face. It feels to him, and looks to you; that his brain has completely shut off, as its not exactly sure how to respond to your straightforward affections.

You gotta let him know before you kiss him, lest this happens. Sure, it seems funny, and you might get a little chuckle out of it, but riddle doesnt like to feel like hes being made fun of. Occasional teasing is alright in his books, but he's very tight strung outside of your relationship and may sometimes find it difficult to tone it down.

If he were to ask for one, there would have to be a lot of prerequisites needed in order for it to happen. Not being a fan of PDA, you would have to be alone; and of course, you'd have to ask first. It's not that riddle doesn't want your affection, that's very far from it.

He is very starved for touch and affection, due to his very strained relationship with his mother. Unfortunately because of that, Riddle doesn't know how to receive affection-- be it in gifts or in the physical sense. He's glad you remembered his favourite flavour, and will compliment you shyly on your memory; he expects nothing but the best from his partner, after all.

He'll be very nervous if you kiss him randomly, but will notice that something is different awhile after he manages to reboot himself appropriately.

Being extremely observant, ( not to mention the fact that since he's not exactly allowed to have sweets, he will notice the delicious taste almost instantly. ) It'll be addressed, but only after a confused and blush ridden riddle scolds you, of course.

Riddle has a hidden sweet tooth, and doesn't get to indulge in it very often, so he may start seeking you out in the hallways, and drag you to an empty corridor or classroom, and ask for a kiss. Maybe if he felt more bold, he would wordlessly ask for permission before taking what he wants.

"Is it...is it on, today?"

he couldn't dare meet your eyes, it's taking a lot out of him to even ask! Riddle was taught to not be selfish, but maybe it's okay if it's with you, right? He'd cough into his fist, and give you a peck. It's up to you if you want to deepen the kiss ( he wouldn't complain,) or keep them simple in scale. Riddle won't outright say it, lest he wants to embarrass himself— but he sometimes catches himself watching your glossy lips whenever you speak.

Whenever you lick them, he yearns to taste it off of you; but knows to restrain himself. His kisses are shy, and he quickly learns to relish the delicious taste that rests on your lips. In due time, the more comfortable riddle is with you through the journey of your relationship, he'll become more eager, and show more vulnerability intimacy wise. He may let out a small whine into your lips and shut his eyes tight, embarrassed to lock eyes with your own during such a moment.

Perhaps ingesting lip balm so continuously isn't the best for his system, so he advises you to not wear it all the time. Even though he could just— not kiss you all the time when you're wearing it. He's tempted to collar you for that thought.

Dorm members will comment on their housewardens behaviour offhandedly, 'he seems less ... him?' or rather, the version that they're essentially used to seeing, at the very least. Your kisses are always slow and delicate, as if you're afraid riddle would break if you pushed him too far. He prefers to not be taken lightly due to his stature, and will encourage you to not play softly with him all the time— his manly pride is important!

But Riddle knows that you want to cherish the moments that the both of you are able to be physically intimate like this for as long as he’ll let you. The pleasant calming scent from the scented balm and the tempting taste of your lips helps relax him a lot more than he had initially thought. Expect his mood to be a lot less capricious than it used to be— Trey and Heartslabyul as a whole is very grateful to you. Its a very small change in his eyes, but in an outsider's perspective, it's major. Don't expect any further leniency on rule breaking, though.

Malleus Draconia, Ice cream

“You really remembered?”

Depending on how far along your relationship with malleus is, he'd be hard pressed to either do one of two things; cling onto you constantly and follow you, or practically have to restrain himself physically so he doesn't always seek you out.

Lillia told him some people prefer when their partners aren't always around them, and in common draconian fashion, took those words very seriously in assuming you and everyone else were the same way. Malleus is quite lonely, so don't take it too much to heart if he happens to cling onto a bit too much. You're the only one aside from his family that he's been able to confide in, whether it be about his emotional insecurity or physical— and with that comes the responsibility of reassuring him every now and again. He won't tell you, of course, but if you're observant enough to notice it, make sure to not leave that alone, lest it escalates.

With the array of peculiarity twisted wonderland holds as a whole, you'd be surprised if you didn't find anything of odd origins at the mystery shop. So spotting the ice cream flavoured lip balm on a shelf is the least astonishing thing you've experienced so far. Don't look too deep into the logic side of things, and buy it! And subsequently, malleus would notice the change by the smell alone. He yearns to be near you and prefers to not take any opportunities when he is for granted. So, when he catches a whiff of a scent he's very familiar with that isn't your natural one, his interest is immediately peaked.

“Something smells different about you today.”

He would sniff you to pinpoint it, As he knows that the scent is on you, but wishes to know exactly where it is. Stopping at your face, his eyes bore into yours, and he'll expect an answer. Tap your lips, or if you'd say it verbally, it would most likely end the same way. A smile would pain his face, a soft crease in his eyes— he's amused.

“Human inventions are incredibly peculiar. How amusing...”

He'd whisper before sealing your lips with his own, greedily and shamelessly licking the seam of your mouth slowly. Make sure to tell him if it's too much, he'll stop, of course, but will expect more. He's overjoyed ( silently) that you recalled his favourite food and thought of him enough to buy something that he liked. Don't be surprised when small trinkets, stunning gems and miscellaneous items find their way to your hands, in return. Malleus wants you to know, and will try his best to make it very clear that he thinks about you as much as you do him— if not more.

If malleus wants a peck, or a kiss in between classes, or during a late night walk, he'll tap his lips— as you did before.

It'll become a bit of a signal for you both to speak the words that you, or he may be too nervous to speak aloud at times. Malleus is the prince of chivalry, and will always make sure your consent is spoken for whenever physical intimacy like that is present; the last thing he wants to do is potentially hurt you or make you uncomfortable in any way shape or form.

Once the first encounter is done with, expect a very disgruntled pair of knights to ask you where their young master is— his sneaking away has gotten incredibly worse as of late! Don't say anything too obvious, or show them the note he wrote you with a location sprawled on the back of it to them. Sebek is very skeptical when told you have nothing to do with it, but silver and Lillia will work to reassure him and get off your back. Just make sure they never catch you kissing! though one would be more aghast than the rest, to be fair.

His kisses are delicate, yet hold an undertone of soft eagerness, be aware that he can, and will nip at your lips to tease. Due to his duties as future heir, be prepared to be bombarded with affection by malleus when all is said and done. You're his reprieve, his haven outside of the world that seems to do nothing but fear him— and he cherishes you more than you could possibly ever know. Expect very slow sessions of smooching, and a heavy sigh to leave him as he visibly deflates in your hold, arms wrapped around you.

“Does your tongue taste as sweet as your lips? Shall we see?”

#twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia x reader #kalim al asim x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts x mc #riddle rosehearts x yuu #malleus draconia x yuu #malleus draconia x mc #twst imagines #twst fluff #kalim x reader #twst kalim

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mykoreanlove · 7 months

Text

Handle you

“Hyung, do you want to go out with us?”

Changbin turned around, giddily shaking his head. “No, Innie, not tonight. I am planning on spending the weekend with my babygirl y/n at home – no phones, no distractions, no nagging executives on my back. Just me, her, good food and a lot of sex!”

“Ewwwww”, the youngest replied in disgust.

“Spare us the details, won’t you?” Seungmin chimed in.

Changbin’s smile grew even wider. He packed his bag and turned around, waving his final goodbye to his band mates. He grabbed his phone and sent you a message.

“Baby, I’m on my way home. I got to stop at the convenience store though. Do you need anything? Ramen? Snacks? Condoms?” He put his phone away laughing – it had been a while since he had been this happy.

The excruciating album promotions were finally over, the tour had not started yet, so he had some time off for himself – even if it was only a weekend. Changbin roamed the aisles of the store grabbing everything in his field of sight: various cups of ramen, sweet snacks, salty snacks, two packs of condoms, ice cream and bright, colorful flowers. He knew how much you loved flowers and he loved nothing more than making you happy. He took his phone out to see if you had replied but there was nothing. He grew a bit insecure but decided to let it go. “She’s probably asleep or something.”

You heard the door open and tried to compose yourself. “Baby, I am home. Come give your Binnie a big, fat kiss!” Your boyfriend’s mood was the entire opposite of your own: cheerful, happy, eager.

But you? You felt angry. You felt fearful. You felt like you were going to rip his head off. Maybe.

“Baby?”

Changbin peeked into the kitchen where you were waiting for him. “Hey.” Your tone was cold, distant even. “Just hey?” “What do you want, a welcome committee?” You snapped at him.

His eyes widened in surprise, unsure what had caused this frosty mood. “You know what? Yes, a welcome committee would be awesome right now. Let me hear it!” He tried to soften the mood by being goofy, hoping to ease the tension that way. “Go ask stay or your female colleagues or something. You seem to have enough fangirls already.” You got off the chair and walked out of the kitchen.

Changbin was flustered. “What the heck?”

He ran after you, grabbing you by the wrist. “Let go of me!” You cried out. “Baby, what is wrong? Why are you acting that way? Is it your blood sugar? Are you hungry? Cause I bought snacks and flowers and-”

“No, I am not hungry. And I don’t want your stupid snacks!” He let go of your wrist, looking bewildered. “What is it then?” You turned around. “It’s nothing, just leave me alone.” He did not – in fact he walked over to you and hugged you from behind. “Y/N, baby, are you on your period or something?”

You lost it. You wriggled yourself out of his strong grip and spat in rage. “Fuck you, Binnie, no! Why would I be on my period when I’m angry? Is that the only acceptable reason? Fuck you!”

“Aha! So you’re mad!” He pointed his index finger at you, catching you in the act of lying. You rolled your eyes at him. “Damn, you spend way too much time with Lee Know, y/n.” You shot him a death stare as a response. “Or Hyunjin, hard to tell right now.”

You walked away from him, trying to calm your nerves. You were acting irresponsible, you knew that. You sat down on the blue couch and took some deep breaths. Changbin followed you into the living room and sat right beside you, drawing small circles on your back.

“Want to tell me why you’re so mad at me?”

You shook your head. “Want me to guess then? Let’s see. Are you mad because I spent way too much time in the studio instead of being with you?” You didn’t react. “That’s not it. Are you mad because I will be gone for weeks leaving you here alone?” Still no reaction. “Also not it. Are you mad at me because I haven’t been to the gym lately? Because I have lost some muscle mass, honestly.” You snorted out laughing. “Aha! You are mad because I’m becoming skinny! Don’t worry baby, I can-”

“Binnie, for fuck’s sake, stop talking nonsense. I am trying to be mad here.” You looked up at him with tears in your eyes. He laid his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. For a moment you just laid on his chest, crying silently while he was placing kisses on the top of your head. “Are you ready to talk about it now? Or do you still need some time to lash out at me?”

You loved his calmness in stressful situations. You loved his calmness and patience with you even more. “I am sorry, Bin.” He placed another kiss on your forehead. “I know, y/n, I know. Now tell me. What’s wrong?” You hated talking about your feelings, you hated showing your vulnerable side but you had to. Otherwise this relationship could never work. “I am not hungry, nor am I on my period. I am… I am just an insecure mess.” His grip around you got tighter as he placed another kiss on your head. “Okay, so?”

You shot your head up, looking at him frantically. “What do you mean okay, so? Bin, honestly? I shouldn’t be your girlfriend. I watched some reels of you dancing with beautiful idols right before you came home and it tore me apart, like a pathetic loser. You looked so good with them – they were practically goddesses! And they were all over you, giggling and touching your muscles and looking at you with heart emoji eyes. And then you come home to me, a mere mortal, who pisses you off because she can’t handle her insecurities!”

Changbin looked at you intensely before his lips turned into a smile. “God, you are so cute y/n!” You tried to push yourself off of him but he held you close, even tighter than before. You felt exposed, you felt like a small worm and here he was making fun of you.

You used your whole body to protest, clenching your fists and hitting against his chest but he barely felt a thing. “Can you stop fighting for a second and listen to me?”

You paused and buried your head in his chest, too embarrassed to look at him. “Y/N, can you look at me? Pretty please?” You shook your head no. Another smile formed on his lips, he was so smitten with you that even your childish antics left him loving you more. “Okay. But can you listen to me?” You nodded.

“I am glad that you’re not hungry nor on your period, baby. And I am glad that you finally decided to tell me what’s going on. It’s true – I’ve been dancing with beautiful idols all morning. But why does that matter? That’s just my job. I meet beautiful people all the time, damn even being in a band with Hyunjin made me think about him in ways I should not have but still? Who has my heart? You do. Only you. It’s human to get insecure from time to time. I do, too! I may be an idol but you are a gorgeous woman and guys are hitting on you all the time! That’s just how it is when two incredibly good-looking people date, don’t you think?”

He stopped his monologue smirking, checking for reactions from you.

None.

“For whatever reason you think that you should not have insecurities. Why though? I think they’re cute. I love it when you’re a bit jealous, it really makes me feel wanted and desired if I’m honest. A little is enough, though. Don’t go through life thinking that you have to be perfect to be with me. No imperfections? No insecurities? Where would be the fun in that, baby?”

Changbin watched you looking up at him with swollen eyes and smeared mascara and in that moment he knew he would love you forever. He placed a tender kiss on your nose and waited for you to say something.

You felt like a giant rock had fallen off of you. Here you were making a scene over nothing and he was as understanding and loving as someone could be. For the first time in your life you could believe that it was enough to be yourself. Changbin really made you feel like you were enough, flaws and all.

“Binnie?” Your voice was barely audible, yet sweet and submissive as opposed to being cold and distant as before. “Yes, babygirl?” You smiled warmly, knowing that you two were good. “Kiss me?” You watched him smirk, clearly appeased with this turn of events. He lowered his head down to yours and kissed you softly, making you forget about anything and anybody. Right now, there was only him and you. Until it wasn’t. Your stomach growled loudly which made sense since you had not eaten anything because of the stress of the last hours. Changbin smiled into the kiss and whispered against your lips: “I knew it. Of course you were hungry, you little liar.”

You broke off the kiss, laughing whole-heartedly at his remark. “Didn’t you say you bought snacks? And… flowers?” You acted innocently, smirking in the cutest way possible. “Oh, so now you want them. Say please y/n!” You placed small kisses along his biceps, making your way up to his neck until you reached his ear. With a very seductive whisper you begged: “Please.”

Changbin shot off the couch, carrying you in his strong arms and running over to the kitchen where he placed you on the counter. He grabbed his shopping bag and presented all the goods he bought for you two. “Binnie, those flowers are beautiful. Thank you so much, baby.” You kissed him thankfully. “Baby, wait, there’s more!” Eager like a kid he took out the snacks, showing you one by one, giving you his remarks as to why he loved those goodies. “Damn, Bin, you care a lot about your snacks, huh?” He grinned proudly. “Gotta stay fed, babygirl.”

He turned around to prepare the ramen as you noticed there was still something left inside the bag. Cautiously you fished it out, smirking deviously. “Bin, baby, didn’t you forget something?”

He turned around, unknowingly and turned red as he saw you holding the two packs of condoms in your hands. “Two, huh? Busy weekend I see.” He looked at you shyly while scratching his head which led to his shirt slipping up and revealing his defined torso. “I mean, if you don’t want to that’s okay…”

You got up from the counter and took his hand into yours, dragging him along to the bedroom.

“Wait, aren’t you hungry?”

You nodded. “Oh, I am.”

“But what-?”

You turned around sheepishly. “Hungry for you.”

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year

Text

As The Gods Intended

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x original female character (Aela Targaryen) Warnings: DD;DNE, twincest/incest/Targcest, explicit smut, dubcon/noncon, angst. 18+ Word count: ~4k

Summary: In the wake of Lucerys' Velaryon's death, Aemond panics and makes some life altering choices that will have catastrophic consequences for his twin sister, Aela. Based on this request.

Thanks and spanks to my emotional support grotbag @em-writes-stuff-sometimes for enduring my snippets, beta'ing this into something readable and her unparalleled knowledge of High Valyrian. Love you forever.

The head and neck of Lucerys Velaryon’s dragon, Arrax, washed up beneath the cliffs below Storm’s End three days ago. Lucerys’s body has yet to be found.

It has been almost a week, six agonisingly long days, since Aela Targaryen last saw or heard from her twin brother, Aemond. He is presumed dead, along with his beloved Vhagar.

Aemond had been sent to Storm’s End to acquire Lord Borros Baratheon’s allegiance to their brother King Aegon II in exchange for agreeing to marry one of Lord Baratheon’s daughters. It had transpired that Lucerys had also been sent, acting as a messenger for his mother, Rhaenyra, to acquire Lord Baratheon’s allegiance to her own claim to the Iron Throne. When neither prince had been heard from following their arrival, further messengers were dispatched. Lord Baratheon had revealed that Lucerys had arrived in the Round Hall while Aemond was present and had received a frosty reception from his uncle. An altercation between the two had caused Borros to ask them both to leave. The two had not been seen since and neither had their dragons.

Aela had wept upon hearing the news of the discovery of Arrax’s remains. It was not difficult to imagine what had happened and it had clearly ended in tragedy. She’d lost her nephew and her beloved twin brother. The colour went out of Aela’s world that day. While a funeral for Lucerys had been held, one for Aemond had yet to occur. Their mother, Alicent, could not bring herself to say goodbye. For this Aela was grateful; she was not ready to let him go either.

It is long past midnight as Aela sits by her window, staring out over King’s Landing. Sleep has evaded her since Aemond went missing. Whose bed will she climb into when she has a nightmare now? Her twin flame has been snuffed out and she is lost.

A shadow in the candlelight of her peripheral vision causes her to turn her head toward the door and she freezes. Aemond. There he stands, a serene look in his uncovered blue eye, staring at her from the doorway. Her heart leaps into her throat at the sight, quickly replaced by a feeling of overwhelming joy as he closes the gap between them and pulls her into a tight embrace.

“Hāedus, it is so good to see you,” he murmurs, stroking her long white hair. Sister.

Aela feels tears of happiness prickle her eyes. She pulls back to study his face, still unable to quite comprehend that the man in front of her is really her twin brother. “Aemond… I thought you weren’t coming back… You are alive!” He gives her a gentle reassuring smile. “I am alive, but for how long is up to you, dōnus mēres. Will you help your brother?” Sweet one.

She nods her head without hesitation. “Anything for you, lēkys. But first, we need to tell mother you are safe. She will be so pleased!” Brother.

“No!”

Aela flinches at the harshness of Aemond’s tone. He has never spoken to her with such a lack of care before.

His face softens and he cups her cheeks. “Forgive me, Aela; I do not mean to be so cruel. But you must understand that my life depends on your discretion.”

She looks up at him with wide, imploring eyes. “Why can no one know that you are back?” He takes a step back from his twin sister, grasping her hands in his. He inhales a deep breath before he speaks. “There has been a terrible tragedy… one that I will surely get the blame for.” A sense of unease creeps over her. “You mean - what happened to Luke?”

He pauses for a moment, his thumbs rub circles on the backs of his sister’s hands. “So you have heard? You must understand that it was an accident. Would you really allow your brother to be punished for something that is not his fault?”

“Of course not!” She is horrified by the very idea. “Then you must come with me, hāedus. Only you can save me. Get dressed.” The urgency of Aemond’s voice is enough for her to know there is no more room for questions or arguments. She hurries behind her modesty screen, strips out of her nightgown and begins to redress in the clothes she had discarded earlier that evening.

Her eyes go wide with surprise as she sees him reach for her nightgown as it hits the floor. She wonders what he is doing, but her train of thought is cut short when he throws a hooded cloak over the screen at her. It is the same one she has worn many times to sneak around Flea Bottom unrecognised.

“Put that on. Hurry,” he commands.

Aela does as she is told and wraps the cloak around her body, coming out from behind the privacy screen.

He steps towards her, pulling the hood over her head and stroking her cheek. “Good girl,” he praises, taking her hand and leading her through the same passage they have used to sneak away from the Red Keep many times before.

Aela notices her nightgown is still bunched up in Aemond’s free hand. He is walking at too quick of a pace for her to be able to ask about it, despite her burning curiosity. Her legs struggle to keep up with his long strides as he hurries them down Aegon’s High Hill, along Shadowblack Lane and out towards the Blackwater Rush.

She gasps as she watches him discard her nightgown onto the muddy bank.

“Aemond - what are you doing?”

He turns to her, his face eerily calm as he speaks matter-of-factly. “They will say you were so stricken by grief over the death of your twin that you drowned yourself. Don’t you see? It is the perfect plan. We can disappear forever.”

She feels a chill run down her spine. She stares at him with abject horror. “You want… people to think we’re dead?” The negative intonation of her response seems to go unheeded by him. He simply nods. “It is the only way. I cannot face what I have done. I will be branded a kinslayer.”

“But you said it was an accident…”

She feels like she is experiencing a nightmare from which she is desperate to wake up. Her heart races as she stares at her twin brother’s face, searching for any sign of regret or remorse for his actions. Waves of nausea pulsate through her stomach.

“It was an accident,” Aemond insists. “I only meant to scare him…”

She feels her heart constrict, and a sob bubbles in her throat. “Gods, Aemond… What did you do to Luke?”

“I didn’t do anything!” he snaps, his nostrils flaring with annoyance as he stares down at his sister. “If that stupid bitch Maris Baratheon hadn't taunted me, I would never have gone after him. Had Vhagar heeded my commands, he would not be dead. So, you see, none of this is my fault.”

Aela reels at the revelation. Hot tears roll down her cheeks. She shakes her head, backing away from Aemond. “You are a murderer-”

He grabs her by her upper arms, his grip so tight it will surely leave bruises.

“I am your brother! He was a bastard, he took my eye! How can you be so cruel?” He shakes her slightly, continuing. “Have I not suffered enough? Would you prefer to see me dead? Do you not love me?”

A pang of guilt blooms heavy in Aela’s chest as she looks tearfully at his frantic face. “Of course I do-”

“Then you must come with me. Do this for me. There is no one that will ever love you like I love you, Aela. We are twins.”

He takes her hand once more and leads her along the banks of the Blackwater Rush and away from King’s Landing as he speaks. She is too overcome by grief and shock to fight it.

“It will be a bit of a walk, I’m afraid,” he informs her. “I could not land Vhagar too close to the city without drawing attention.”

At the mention of his dragon, her pace falters a little, remembering her own. “What of Myrmex? I cannot simply leave him.”

When Aela and Aemond had been born, they’d each had a dragon’s egg placed in their cradle. While his had never hatched, and he’d later claimed Vhagar, her own had. A beautiful emerald green dragon, named Myrmex who she’d grown and bonded with over the years. The thought of leaving him behind in the Dragonpit was simply too much for Aela’s heart to bear.

He does not look back at her, leading her along the riverbank. “A necessary sacrifice, I’m afraid, dōnus mēres. Taking him is too much of a risk. You’d be seen.” She sniffles, allowing herself to be pulled along by her twin brother. “But he is my dragon… I love him…”

He stares coldly down at her. “I am your brother. Myrmax may have hatched in your cradle, but you and I shared the same womb. How can you be so selfish?”

His voice softens, and she looks away guiltily. “He will be well cared for in the Dragonpit. And who knows? Perhaps he will find you again one day. Your bond with him is strong. Almost as strong as ours.”

Aela’s heart aches for her dragon. She and Aemond walk the rest of the way in silence until the gargantuan frame of Vhagar looms ahead.

“Where will we go?” she asks meekly.

“I have found us a place. You need not worry. I have spent the last few days preparing for your arrival.”

“You - you planned this?” She knows she doesn’t even need to ask this. Of course he has. Aemond had always been too clever, too calculating for his own good. It was a quality she had once admired. Now, it frightened her.

“I knew as soon as I saw Luke fall from the sky that there was no coming back from this. And I could not just leave you,” he says, helping to lift her into Vhagar’s saddle, climbing on behind her. “Worry not, hāedus, lēkia will take care of you now.”

Her mind goes blank as soon as Vhagar takes to the sky. The rush of cold air and the weightless roiling of her stomach with every movement supersedes all other thoughts and feelings. Though she has ridden on dragonback many times with Aemond before, she imagines she feels his chest pressed tighter to her back than usual. His arms seem to wrap more firmly around her waist. Surely it is just that, though; her imagination.

Eventually, as dawn breaks, Vhagar lands in the foothills of the Red Mountains, close to the stormlands' border with the Reach, east of the Cockleswhent and southeast of the Blueburn. She looks out over the ruins of Summerhall Castle, once used as a place for members of House Targaryen to spend their summers. It had been almost destroyed in a fire and never restored to its former glory.

“Here, Aemond? You can’t be serious,” she says as her brother helps her down from Vhagar.

“I know it’s not much to look at, jorrāelītsos, but I think you’ll find it rather comfortable. And no one will come looking for us here.” She hopes that he is wrong. There is nothing she wants more than for them to be found and an end to this madness. As though he senses her trepidation, Aemond’s eye makes contact with hers, her feet finally reaching the ground. “And you’d better hope no one finds us - you are implicated in this, after all.” Little love.

She is too trusting of her twin brother to pick up on the subtle threat in his voice. Anguished, she protests. “But I haven’t done anything!”

“It would not seem that way to anyone from the outside looking in.” He cocks his head at her. “You are my twin sister. You have faked your own death and come away with me after I killed our nephew. Some might say you’d had the whole thing planned all along… I would simply hate for that to happen to you, hāedus. My heart could not take it.”

She wails piteously at this. She dreads to think what people will say about her. Her heart breaks at the idea that she could ever be considered a co-conspirator to murder.

“Do not worry, dōnus mēres,” he soothes, pulling her tight to his chest. “Lēkia will protect you.” He holds her a few moments longer, until her tears finally subside. “Let’s get you inside and show you around your new home, hm?”

Aemond places a hand on the small of his twin sister’s back, ushering her inside. Large portions of the castle are without a roof and in complete ruin.

“We will repair all of this eventually, restore it to its former glory,” he says airily, guiding her through.

The few rooms that are habitable have had the remaining furniture pushed into them to create a makeshift solar, sleeping quarters and a space for them to eat. It does not quite live up to the lavish surroundings of the Red Keep, but is certainly not the squalor that she had been expecting.

“This is… nice,” she says, a slight hint of surprise to her tone.

He smiles warmly. “It will be the perfect place for us to start our family.”

“Start a family?” she asks. Dread is beginning to gnaw its way through her insides. She is almost afraid to hear Aemond’s answer.

“Yes, hāedus. We will marry and create heirs. We will start our own faction of House Targaryen.”

“Aemond, we cannot! You are to be betrothed to a Baratheon and me to a Lannister. You are my brother. My twin!”

Her heart races as she looks at him with pleading eyes. He remains utterly unaffected by her resistance.

“Those betrothals are null and void. They are a part of old lives. We are forging a new one. And so what if we are siblings? Helaena and Aegon are married, and the Conqueror married both of his sisters. Why should we be any different?”

She is panicked. She does not know what to say. “Because… because… I don’t…”

“You don’t love me!” he accuses, cutting her off, his brow furrowed, his blue eye alight with outrage.

“I do love you, lēkys, I do!” she attempts to argue back, tears welling in her eyes.

“Then you will obey me,” he states coolly.

She gasps as Aemond’s mouth descends upon hers, the sound cuts off as an “mmmph” as he presses his lips to hers. He tangles his fingers into her hair, holding her head in place as he kisses her. It feels wrong and yet she kisses him back, ignoring the pit that is opening in the depths of her guts, eager not to anger him further.

She has kissed her brother on the lips before, but they have been chaste kisses between siblings. What he is bestowing upon her now is a passionate kiss, filled with lust, the type reserved for lovers. She has never experienced a kiss like this before. She never anticipated that the first time would be with her twin brother. She feels nauseated.

When he finally pulls away, he scoops her into his arms, carrying her towards the bed. “We shall create an heir today, jorrāelītsos.”

Her blood runs cold at the suggestion. “Aemond, we can’t - I can’t - I’ve never… My virtue is still intact!”

She attempts to squirm out of his arms, but he is too strong for her.

His voice is saccharinely sweet as he smiles down at her. “As it should be, hāedus. You have waited for your brother like a good girl.”

She shakes her head, panic rooting itself deep inside of her as he lays her on the bed. She opens her mouth to speak, but the words will not come.

“You see, Aela, we are two halves of the same whole. You and I were created for each other. Isn’t that beautiful? No one else can have you but me.”

He cards his fingers through her long, white hair and strokes her cheek, before pulling at the lacings on the front of her bodice.

Aela finally finds her voice, feebly attempting to push Aemond’s hands away. “Lēkys, no, please!”

Aemond shushes her, swatting at her hands and continuing to undress her. “You love your lēkia, don’t you? I have waited many years to see you all grown up. You will not deny your beloved brother his prize, will you?”

She whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut and trying not to think about the fact that her twin brother is now stripping her naked.

The cold air causes her skin to break out into gooseflesh as Aemond finally pulls away her small clothes.

“Open your eyes for me, dōnus mēres,” he whispers.

As her lilac eyes open slowly, she is met by the sight of him sitting above her, drinking in the sight of her with appreciation shining brightly in his gaze.

“Gevie,” he states simply. Beautiful.

It is then she realises that he has also removed his clothing. She stares at him wide eyed. She has not seen her brother naked since they were children. They had shared a bed up until they were thirteen years old, until one morning she’d awoken to find the hardness of his arousal pressed against her buttocks. She’d been unsure of what it was and after speaking to her mother and seeing her horrified reaction, she’d understood it was something wrong. Aela and Aemond had been made to sleep apart ever since.

“Feel what you do to me,” he murmurs, taking her hand and wrapping it around his hardened cock.

She whines, attempting to pull her hand away, but he keeps it there. He is firm and warm to the touch.

“You - you cannot put that inside of me,” she squeaks. “It will not fit.”

“Silly girl,” he chuckles. “You were made specifically to take me inside of you. No one else. But I will prepare you first.”

Tears well up in her eyes as he passes his digits through the delicate silver curls of her mound, swiping his fingers through her folds. He roughly inserts his middle finger inside of her, curling it upwards and dragging it in and out. She has never even touched herself so intimately, so to have the intrusion of her brother between her legs is surreal and makes her want to curl in on herself to hide her shame.

“So tight,” he comments, almost as if he is speaking to himself. “And becoming so wet.”

“Aemond, I don’t like this!” she whines, covering her face with her hands.

“Oh, but your body tells another story entirely,” he says, his tone mocking as he inserts a second finger.

She cries out at the sensation. “That’s too much! You’re putting too much inside of me!”

He chuckles dryly. “You’ll need to take much more than two fingers if I’m to fuck you. How else will you bear my children, idañītsos?” Little twin.

She shakes her head against the pillows, attempting to close her legs around Aemond’s wrist and halt his movements. “I don’t - I don’t-”

Never slowing the movement of his fingers inside of her, he cuts her off. “You don’t… love your twin brother? You’d refuse me and break my heart? Are you really so cruel?” She sobs, her own guilt outweighing the disgust and shame she feels at the unwilling invasion of her body. “No, no, no. I love you, Aemond, I swear I do!”

“Mmm,” he concurs. “Then this is how you show me you love me. Do you understand?”

She freezes as he withdraws his fingers from her, replacing them with the tip of his cock. She screws her eyes shut, screaming out at the pain as he pushes inside. It feels like she is being torn in half.

“Gods…you are so tight,” he grits out. “You have to relax, or I will never get inside.”

Her body is wracked with sobs. She feels like the intrusion is unending. The pain is unlike anything she has ever experienced. White hot flames of agony lick their way between her legs and up her spine.

“Allow me to put you out of your misery,” he says softly.

For a moment, she dares to hope he will have mercy on her and stop, until she feels him clamp a hand over her mouth. In one rough shove, he pushes himself into her to the hilt. Her agonised shriek is muffled by his palm.

His eye flutters closed in satisfaction. “Finally, we are one. As the gods intended.”

Her mind reels. Surely the gods would never intend for something that feels so vile and so painful?

Beginning to thrust in and out of her, barely giving her body time to adjust to him, he grunts. “Does this feel good, hāedus? Is lēkia making you feel good?”

She is mortified by the question. Why would anything so vulgar ever feel good?

“No,” she answers honestly, “You are hurting me.”

“It doesn’t feel pleasurable because you don’t love me the way that I love you,” he states, continuing to thrust inside of her. “This feels good for me, because I love you with all my heart. Lēkia will help you to love him. Don’t worry.”

Aemond presses a finger to the pearl at the apex of her sex, rubbing tight circles as he continues to rut into her.

Her hips jolt at the new sensation, unsure of what’s happening to her body. Her hands fly to his shoulders, clutching at them desperately. “What - what - are you doing to me?”

His face is smug as he moves above her. “You’ve never touched yourself have you, idañītsos? So innocent and all mine. I will bring you pleasure like you have never felt before. Only I can give you that.”

He speeds up both his ministrations to her bud alongside his thrusts, and Aela can begin to feel the inside of herself clench around him. It is completely involuntary, but it’s apparent that he feels it too.

“Oh, you like that?” he mocks. “Good girl.”

The moan that escapes her mouth sounds alien to her. The slow burning ache between her legs that builds towards a heated pressure is unfamiliar to her. Her eyes go wide and she feels like she needs to push towards something, but she is unsure how. She whines, clawing at his shoulders, desperate to ground herself.

“You are about to peak, hāedus,” he tells her. “Let go for lēkia.”

He gives her nipple a harsh tweak and increases the pressure he is exerting between her legs.

Aela’s back arches off of the mattress with the force of her pleasure, jerking her body against his. He places a hand against the rear of her pelvis, holding her against him as he fucks her through her orgasm. White hot sparks shoot their way through her body, a loud cry of pleasure releasing from her mouth. Her body goes limp in Aemond’s gasp. Her eyes are heavy lidded and pleasure drunk.

He uses her body, seeking his own end. A few more thrusts and he spills deep inside of her with a low groan. She barely registers the feeling of him filling her up.

When he pulls out, her cunny is a mess of blood from her maidenhead being broken and his seed leaking out of her. He hums appreciatively, mixing it together and pushing it back inside with his fingers.

She hisses, a mixture of pain and oversensitivity causing her to jerk her hips away from his touch.

“Forgive me, hāedus. We do not want this to go to waste if you are to be with my child.”

Aela knows she should protest, but what’s done is done. It is too late.

She is pliant, allowing him to pull her to his chest and hold her close.

“Avy jorrāelan, idañītsos”, he murmurs, kissing her temple. I love you, little twin.

Too tired to fight him any longer, Aela finally gives in. “Avy jorrāelan, lēkys.” I love you, brother.

Aemond smiles as his twin sister drifts off to sleep on his chest.

“I know you do, jorrāelītsos. We will make such a happy family.”

718 notes · View notes

percyjavksongf · 6 months

Text

-𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤! 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐’𝟗𝟎𝟎

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐦𝐲 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

'𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭...𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐳𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐢𝐫...𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮’

-𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐨𝐧

“Anne had come home dancing in the purple twilight across the snowy places. Afar-”

you noticed a small, curious hand shoot up in the corner of your eye and you had to hold back a laugh, shifting your gaze to the young girl sitting attentively in front of you, she was the last one to go home every evening but even as the hour grew late she was as alert as ever.

“yes, Aneria?”

“what does twilight mean?” she spoke in a whisper, already having been shushed twice this evening by the librarian.

“its when the sun has nearly set but there’s still some light coming through, like when the sky turns shades of purple and pink. Do you understand what I mean?”

Aneria nods in a serious way, she was by far your favourite out of all the children you read to in the library, although you know you shouldn’t have favourites she was the most intrigued by the stories you were instructed to read to the kids, who usually were in your care until their parents finished work. Todays read was Anne of Green Gables much to your delight, the story was a favourite of yours since you were Aneria’s age.

“now where were we, uh, yes. Afar in the southwest was the great shimmering, pearl-like sparkle of an evening star-”

“Gilbert Blythe is so dreamy, don’t you think?” you nod your head approvingly at Aneria’s statement, having grown accustomed to her frequent interruptions, she never meant any harm with them. “my mom said to me that she’s seen you walking around with a boy, is that true? She said he’s Sally’s son and I hope so, he’s definitely just as dreamy as Gilbert”

you struggle to compress a laugh at Aneria’s boldness, not surprised at the least that gossip has spread about you and Percy’s evening strolls around the borough, you just didn’t expect to hear about it in this situation.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about missy” you reply with a teasing grin, causing Aneria to whine in annoyance, “come on, I never got to know the truth in gossip”

“that’s usually because there’s not much truth in it, now will we continue reading?”

Aneria sat once again to attention, glad she had forgotten quickly about the topic of yourself and Percy.

“in the sky that was a pale golden and ethereal rose of gleaming white spaces and dark glens of spruce. The tinkle of sleigh bells among the snowy hills-”

a sharp voice echoed through the library making you cringe, “Aneria! Time to go home”

Aneria huffed and rose to her feet quickly, “coming mom!” she swung her bag over her shoulder before turning to you “can we finish the story on Monday?” you smiled and nodded warmly, waving goodbye as you turned to grab your own bags.

“so what happens next?” you gasp sharply and spin on your heels, sending Percy a sour look when he laughs at your shocked expression, “what are you doing in here?” you questioned with fake displeasure, which Percy knew well at this point. “I’m here to find out what happens next, duh” with that he plops himself down by your feet and stares up at you expectingly, you sigh but can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face when you flick back through the pages to finish the sentence.

“The tinkle of sleigh bells among the snowy hills came like elfin chimes through the frosty air, but their music was not sweeter then the song in Anne’s heart and on her lips” you look up from your book and catch Percy’s gaze, you watch each other for a couple of seconds until he blinks and quickly turns away, clearing his throat before shuffling to his feet, “well your book’s right about one thing, its frosty as fuck out there.” you’re quick to shush Percy with a giggle as you hear the librarian huff in annoyance. The two of you are quick to leave the library and step out into the icy street, a shiver runs up your spin and before you can say a word Percy is offering his jacket to you, “come on just take it, seriously I don’t need it” you take the heavy material into your arms gratefully, it slips on easily and you practically melt into it, the smell of Percy cologne lingers on the fabric and you can’t say you hate it.

The streets of Manhattan were dressed accordingly with the season, you adored how the city, as crazy as it was, always felt like something out of a movie this time of year, and if you hadn’t been in a trance watching the lights glimmer around you, then you would’ve felt the weight of Percy’s stare on the side of your face. You had grown accustomed to your shared walk home, Percy was working part time at the skate shop down the road from the library which delighted you both, with the busyness of school it was hard to find time to hang out. At first it was more of a ‘hey if I see you I’ll walk over and talk’ but now it was guaranteed that you’d find Percy waiting outside the Library leaning against the wall like a cliche from an 80’s movie, but instead of starting with a smooth pick up line he’d ask if you had known that sea horses are monogamous (you did not). Apart from the ocean facts yous two would talk about everything, home life, what you were learning about in college, Percy would never fail to mention his long distance friends Annabeth and Grover, he spoke about them so much it felt like they were your friends too.

“so what’s Gilbert like?” the question had you raising a brow at Percy, who faked innocence with a brow raise in return. A breath of warm air travels past your lips and you shift your gaze ahead at the flashing ‘tis the season!’ sign hanging off the Bodega Percy and you visit frequently.

“you heard Aneria talking, didn’t you?” you could practically feel the shit eating grin make its way onto Percy chill flushed face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but, if I did overhear how absolutely dreamy this guy is and you totally agree and think him and I are just alike-”

“I never said you two were the same Jackson, don’t put words into my mouth”

“I know you definitely think it though, even if you won’t admit it”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you at that, you could go back and forth with Percy for hours and never grow bored. You have a feeling you cant get yourself out of this conversation though.

“any fish facts for me today?” you blink up at him, hoping it’s a good enough subject change

“you can’t deter me by fluttering your lashes, but we will go back to the fish facts after you tell me about my amazing twin” Percy bumps your shoulder and you nearly go flying on the icy footpath, his annoyingly gorgeous laugh encouraging you to shove him away from you and across the ice, unfortunately for you, Percy seems to hold himself just fine on it, dam him.

“well for one, Gilbert would never do that to Anne”

“oh, so you see us as Anne and Gilbert? How romantic”

“shut up”

a gloved hand reaches out to you and you stare at it suspiciously, though you do notice how he was wearing the gloves you brought him last winter, he complained for weeks about how cold his hands were and that you just had to hold them to keep him warm. The gloves were well received but you found he reached for you still.

“I don’t bite” he teases and you grab onto the hand, even after doing it so many times it still made your heart flutter.

“come here”

you let Percy pull you into him as you continue your walk, removing his hand from yours and you sigh at the loss of warmth, causing him to chuckle “don’t worry baby I’m not going too far” with that an arm wraps around your shoulder and pulls you close, in that moment your grateful for the cold, it’s a good excuse for your burning face. You feel yourself melt under his touch and allow your body to move closer into his, because it’s cold obviously, no other reason.

“so do you think Gilbert is more handsome than me?”

“I think he’s less annoying than you”

“you love me, don’t lie”

you do.

“did you listen to anything else Aneria said, or did you hear a complement about yourself and your brain tuned out”

“I heard that we’re the local gossip, you and I. My mom would be delighted if that were true”

your heart tugs painfully a little at that. it isn’t true, you have to remind yourself, but it feels nice to fall into a dream that it is.

You hum quietly in response and notice you’re only a few blocks away from yours and Percy’s shared apartment complex, Percy, as if sensing your disappointment, turns both your bodies away and continues down another street. Confused ,you send him a look that he returns with a smile “it’s a Friday night, we don’t have to go home now. Besides I though you wanted to go check out that Christmas market at union square?”

you stare up at Percy for a bit and just look, his redding nose and cheeks that complement his tan skin so well, his eyes, god, his eyes. They were always a source of amazement for you, you’ve never seen eyes like Percy’s, you always got lost in them, swearing that they changed into different shades of green and blue.

“I’m definitely more handsome than Gilbert” Percy’s face breaks out in a grin as you pull him towards the nearest subway station.

It was busy of course, like any Friday night in the city would be, Percy had managed to snag a seat for you two quickly and you raced to get yourself sat down before anyone else could come after it. Usually the cramped space made you uncomfortable but you never really minded with Percy, he didn’t seem to either with how he pressed his side against you.

An unspoken agreement to be as close of possible to each other was the norm for you too, you threw your legs over to hang in between his and wrap your arms around his arm closest to you, finally resting your head on his shoulder. You could stay like this forever, you think. Riding a cramped subway that had a familiar mixture of carolling and shouting, shuffling and bumping, crying and laughter. It’s like you couldn’t even hear the ruckus when you were tucked up with Percy, his head resting on top of yours, his strong hands resting on your legs, fingers tapping an familiar tune on your thigh.

You adored it.

“you know I don’t think this is going to help us mush out those rumours” you mumble into his jacket, still pressed firmly against you. Percy turn his head and presses his lips to your hair, “yeah I know”

you hum back softly in acknowledgment, the rush of having Percy so close to you was gorgeous. But after today, what then? You don’t mind the gossip and what if’s of strangers but the feeling of what if with Percy was becoming too much to bear, you didn’t want what if anymore. Percy, now having lifted his head to check out how far away you were from union square, gave you the opportunity to shift your head to look up at him. Sensing your gaze, Percy looks back down at you and admires how pretty your eyes looks gazing up at him through your lashes, the though makes him catch his breath and look away for a second, but you two were magnetic, drawn to each other and it wasn’t long until he was watching you again. His free hand came up to press against your cheek, reddened from happiness. “you’re so warm” Percy whispered, mostly to himself. You were always so warm, he used to joke that you were his portable hot water bottle. You lean slightly to press the fat of your cheek into his hand, just for a second, before moving back to against his shoulder.

“fuck” Percy says to himself again, you shoot him a confused glance and he squeezes your knee in return

“whats wrong? Do you need me to move-”

“no, no, stay there you’re good, you’re so good” the breathiness in his voice combined with his dark eyes freezes you. This felt different, this was all so new to you.

“I just really wish we weren’t on this subway right now, I don’t think Gilbert would kiss Anne on a subway train”

you don’t fight the laughter that echos out of you, of course he’d be worried about something like that

“Percy, I think Gilbert would do that. Besides I don’t care about what Gilbert would do, I don’t like Gilbert”

“well I hope not cus’ I’d be heartbroken”

“oh really”

“truly”

the train pulls to a halt and Percy rushes to get yous off, your laughter accompanies his movements as you both run up the stairs into the cool night, glancing at each other every few seconds. The streets were alive and bustling, you gripped Percy’s hand tightly as he pulled you away from the crowd to the side of a Bodega, squeezing your hand every few seconds as if to make sure you didn’t disappear.

his hands shook gently in yours and you squeezed them tight, you both stared at each other for what felt like a lifetime, you could feel the nerves creeping up on you now.

“Percy..”

“I know”

the loss of his hands in yours was quickly fixed by his hand cupping your face, the wool was comforting against your skin for a moment before it was gone, replaced by Percy’s now ungloved hand.

“i’m sorry this isn’t as pretty as Hester Grey’s old garden” Percy whispers, his thumb running over your cheek

“you have read Anne of green gables” you spoke back accusingly

“my mom read them to me as a kid”

Percy pulled you closer until you stood chest to chest, you tilted your head up and brushed his nose slightly “hey Percy?”

“mh?” you felt hypnotised under his gaze, his eyes almost seem to have darked. You’ve never been so close before.

“please kiss me”

“as you wish” is mumbled against your lips, you can feel his nose pressing against your cheek as he’s kissing you, his mouth so warm and firm against yours. Your arms snake around his shoulders as his hands slide down your back and settle on your waist, gripping tightly. You know that the word will spread by tomorrow morning about the Jackson boy getting handsy outside the Bodega and it makes you smile against Percy, he only pulls back for a second to catch his breath, hands never leaving you once

“do you want to go to the markets?” you take a second to admire how messy Percy looks, face flushed and hair ruffed up from your hands. You must look the same from how Percy’s staring right back at you. You shake your head yes and press back against him “eager girl, you need me that much, huh?” you smack his arm hard.

“says the one who practically dragged me out of the subway to do this”

he presses a quick kiss to your lips to shut you up.

“we’ll check out these markets and then walk home, hows that sound?”

“walk? Why would we walk” yous turn hand in hand back towards the colourful crowd of people, everything seems so much brighter now.

“because then I get to have you to myself for longer” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

The next morning you woke to a knock at the door, Percy having dropped you home only hours before. You practically dragged your feet to the door and swung it open, the chill of the wooden floors making you want to get this interaction done and over with quickly. To your surprise no one stood on the other side, you looked down to see a plate full of blue chocolate chip cookies wrapped in cling film with a note on top, taking them inside quickly you pressed your back against the door and read the messy writing.

Meet me at the Bodega in 15 minutes, breakfast on me.

You can’t help but laugh at it, it’s definitely no Gilbert Blythe, but its Percy Jackson, which is so much better.

a/n: hellooooooo i have returned minions. don't really like this fic tbh but i am so ready for Christmas and needed to get something out, and I've fallen back into my pjo phase so expect more of this <3 i also have a Jake Sully fic in the works for my avatar ppl

#percy jackson #pjo #pjo fandom #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #book percy jackson #x reader #fanfic

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badomensbaby · 6 days

Text

rules of the road. lrh (part 1.)

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader

summary: finally getting your driver's license after moving to the big city for college, you're a bit stunned by your dorky, charming driving instructor.

warnings: 18+ only. minors DNI. flirting/flustering, protected smut, praise kink, mommy kink, car sex, safe sane and consensual, explicit sexual content. (driving instructor! luke, racecar driver! luke)

words: 6,307

a/n: one beautiful evening, as i was driving home with a frosty from wendy's balanced in my lap, i saw a student driver vehicle and i was like! hm! what if... and then this kind of happened. i tried to keep a keen eye while editing but if there's an error, feel free to let me know! <3

feedback and constructive criticism welcome. requests are open!

You weren't a typically nervous person.

Growing up in a town where you practically had to just figure it out on your own, nothing really got under your skin. Not tractor maintenance nor harvest schedules, or that nasty little wasp's nest in the cattle barn in the spring.

But tests, those were a different story.

From college entrance exams to applying for your driver's license, those were the types of tests that made your heart race and your palms clam up. Because it was the unknown that bothered you so much. The unfamiliarity.

And, sprinkle in the fact that you'd left the family farm to pursue a college degree into the mix and every worry's been increased tenfold. As the baby of the family, first daughter behind a handful of rowdy, hard-working boys, being the first of your household to attend college was a serious milestone. You could only hope to make your parents and siblings proud.

But moving to the big city meant learning to drive. Well, legally. You've spent countless hours in your father's farm truck or your grandfather's tractor, you weren't necessarily inexperienced when it came to driving but you've never really been surrounded by other drivers. Just gravel roads and grassy two-tracks and your bothers dirt bikes.

The initial exam, a knowledge test about road signs and rules, wasn't too bad. They'd given you a practice test and a helpful guide booklet when you'd arrived at your appointment. It felt odd, being just barely twenty years old and taking a driver knowledge exam alongside kids barely pushing sixteen. You felt behind but it wasn't your fault.

Nerves didn't erupt in your stomach until the kind lady in the Secretary of State's office informed you that you'd be taking an on-road driver skills test. An instructor will watch you, quiz you, and grade you accordingly and if you fail, you can kiss your ability to drive legally goodbye until you pass.

Now that makes you nervous. Like there's ravenous butterflies swarming your stomach. You're already under a lot of pressure with fall classes starting soon and your part-time job, now you're worried about passing your driver's exam. The lady assured you there's nothing to fret over, that the instructor you've been assigned is well versed in the rules of the road and he's a total sweetheart.

Waiting in the parking lot wasn't the worst part. You were told he'd arrive shortly, a man named Mr. Hemmings, in one of the contracted company's instructing vehicles. Plastered with bright yellow stickers along the back, just shouting to everyone on the road that you're an inexperienced driver so take it easy.

Expecting some middle aged, married, grumpy man with nothing positive to say, the nerves weren't so bad as you basked in the moderate heat of the Michigan summer sun. Your phone pings a few times, a slew of good lucks and you've got this! from your family members. You don't even realize there's a stark white Toyota Camry pulling up to the curb until the scuff of shoes on the asphalt catches your attention.

"Y/N L/N?" A thick, low voice questions. A text message to your eldest brother sits unfinished beneath your thumbs, lips parting with shock. There's no bald patch or flat tire sticking out beneath his shirt, hell it barely looks like he's wearing a shirt at all because the white fabric is so snug and pulled taught over his abdomen and chest and arms that it's absolutely ludicrous. "Y/N?" he repeats.

"Yeah- yeah, that's me," You hesitantly stand, shoving your phone in the pocket of your jeans before brushing your now clammy hands along your thighs. His eyes flicker between the clipboard in his hand and you, shamelessly raking up and down your frame before clearing his throat.

"Great," His lips twist into a wide, toothy smile, shoulders seemingly relaxing at the confirmation. His stance laxes, nodding his head of bouncy, golden curls towards the vehicle that's idling behind him. "Why don't we go ahead and get started?"

You nod, swallowing the thick lump forming in your throat, hardly maintaining eye contact with the instructor as you climb into the driver's seat and watch him awkwardly fit himself into the seat beside you. "Okay," He blows out a breath. "I'm Mr. Hemmings but you can just call me Luke, it's easier and nobody likes saying a long name especially if you're in a panic."

You barely manage a short, clipped laugh. "Rad. Anyway, we're gonna be in here for the next hour or so. I'm mainly here to make sure you understand vehicle safety and that you're prepared to operate this beauty on your own," With a laugh, Mr. Hemmings taps the dashboard with his palm. "Well, not this beauty obviously, but you get my point. Oh! And I have break pedals over here just in case. I haven't used them yet this month so please don't put us in a situation where I might need to."

He's funny, you'll admit. In a dorky, charming kind of way. He hasn't stopped smiling the entire time and you're curious if he's just that way in general or if it's a front because he probably deals with some right idiots when it comes to being an instructor. "You're quiet."

"Sorry," You mumble, hands still folded in your lap. "I'm just a bit nervous."

"There's really no need," he assures you, turning in his seat with an excited smile. "If you've passed your vision and knowledge tests then this is like, a cakewalk. Have you driven before?"

"Yeah, back home," You tell him. "Mostly just old trucks, though. I don't think I've ever driven a proper car."

"Cool, car virgin. I like that," Luke turns his attention back to the clipboard, scribbling something that you're unable to make out because it's complete chicken scratch. "Well, why don't we get going so we can stay on track."

"Okay," You breathe out, clasping the seatbelt over your lap. Under your breath, you rattle off the first steps of safety before your hands ever touch the steering wheel. Seatbelt, check. Rearview mirror, check. Side mirrors, check. When everything seems as it should, you rest one hand on the wheel before shifting the vehicle into drive, peering out of the passenger's side mirror to ensure no cars are coming up behind you in the lot.

Luke stays silent, observing you, pen hovering over his checklist sheet. As you head towards the exit, you realize you have absolutely no clue where you're meant to go. "Uhh-"

"Take a left here," Luke tells you. Signaling, you check both ways for any oncoming traffic before exiting the parking lot, keeping an eye on the speed limit signs posted on the side of the road. "And at the next light, hang a right. We'll follow that through downtown and then get you on the highway for a bit."

Nodding, you try to keep yourself composed and not let the nerves get to you as you follow his instruction. You make sure to slow down appropriately as you cruise through the city's downtown area, briefly taking in the brick buildings and shops as you pass.

The vehicle's air is a little stiff, a little warm underneath the summer sun and you're considering asking Luke if he can turn the air on but he's too busy drumming his fingertips along his bare thigh to really pay you any mind. You'd always heard that driving instructors were very observant, overly cautious and very strict about everything but Luke's so laid back it's slowly beginning to relieve your nerves.

"Would you mind turning on the air?" Luke asks, eyes soft and kind when you glance over at him. You're just trekking along behind other vehicles, following signs for the highway that's still a few miles out. It's probably one of the things on his checklist, for you to tinker with something and hope it doesn't distract you enough to cause any accidents.

Glancing at the various knobs, luckily they're standard and simple, similar to your father's truck so pressing two buttons quickly has cool air flowing into the car. You feel a little more at ease, less of an iron grip on the steering wheel. "You're doing great, by the way." Luke chimes in.

"Thanks," You keep an eye on the Jeep that keeps randomly breaking in front of you, easing off of the accelerator when applicable. You weren't a newbie when it came to driving itself, just following the actual road laws and learning the flow of traffic. "I need to turn right up here?" You ask.

Luke hums with a nod. He's began muttering some tune under his breath along with his finger-drumming, as if he isn't remotely worried about you merging onto the highway. Picking up speed, you join alongside the few cars rumbling along the road. "We'll take this to the next town over, about thirty minutes, then we'll head back and do a few simple maneuvers and that's it."

You nod, fighting the urge to sigh. Who knew your road test would be so boring? There's no music, just the sound of your tires on the asphalt and Luke's low humming. "Why'd you decide to become an instructor? Isn't it- well, boring?"

A slow chuckle slips out of your instructor's mouth, elbow perched on the door, hand clasped against the side of his face. "It's not all boring, I swear. I just like helping people become confident drivers. You'd be surprised how many students I've had that are too terrified to even start the engine."

"You're pretty laid back, it's definitely making me less nervous," You laugh softly, keeping your eyes on the empty road. "Helps that you're not bad looking either."

Shit, you weren't meant to say that.

In your peripheral, you can see Luke squirm slightly in his seat, instantly worrying that you've made him uncomfortable. You're about to retract your statement and apologize but the grin that overtakes his pink lips stops you. "Thank you," he says honestly, his tone a little strained. "So are you. I mean, I wouldn't say not bad looking, you're pretty- like quite pretty- and okay, is it a little warm in here? Jeez."

You stifle a laugh at his nervous rambling. It's cute, kind of refreshing, too. But a weight settles in your stomach because no, you absolutely cannot think your driving instructor is cute. Doesn't that cross some kind of line? Break a rule? It has to. "So- are you uh.. getting your driver's license to.. drive to your boyfriend's house orr.."

Oh god, he's also pretty damn terrible at flirting. Normally, you'd find it cringey and a tad obnoxious but it's cute on him. Adorable, even, because he's definitely a handful of years older than you but he flusters so easily it makes your confidence soar.

There's nothing wrong with indulging in it, is there? It's not like you're gonna fuck him on the side of the highway or anything.

"No boyfriend," You keep a straight face, like you're intently focused on the billboards you pass by. "Or girlfriend." You tack on, just to see him flounder a little more.

"Oh- yeah, rad," Luke nods a few times. "That's- yeah, okay, cool."

God, he's so fucking cute. How'd you get so damn lucky to have him as an instructor?

Luke's tapping the window ledge aimlessly, almost looking uncomfortable but not with you, like something's gnawing at him. "Hey, can you pull off at this rest stop for a minute? I need to- uh- bathroom. Yeah."

"Sure." You signal off, slowing down as you near the small building, only a few cars scattered in the parking lot. Luke quickly unbuckles himself and slips out of the car, almost too fast for you to realize there's a tent in his shorts. Well, fuck.

You've never really been the hook-up type in the past, coming from such a small town there's slim pickings when you know everyone's faults. Only when your family would travel up to Mackinac Island or down to Kalamazoo to visit family would you end up fooling around with some local for an afternoon but that didn't happen very often.

Though the circumstances aren't ideal, there's obviously some kind of attraction on both sides. Probably just some silly short-term infatuation and who knows what's running through Luke's mind. But he's hot, there's no denying that, and guilt tugs at your chest because he's here to do a job and you're just being a massive distraction.

Luke returns about fifteen minutes later, a little flushed in the face but there's this look he's sporting that looks nothing short of pure bliss. You're not stupid, you can recognize a post-orgasm haze from a million miles away.

God, did he really get off in a public rest stop bathroom? What the hell was he so worked up over? You bite back any inappropriate questions lingering on your tongue as he buckles himself in and you merge back onto the highway.

Luke doesn't say a word until it's time to circle back. He's quiet, too quiet, thrumming his fingers against his knee in a rhythm you aren't able to recognize. You decide to go the exact speed limit, setting the cruise control and waiting for Luke to ask why you've done that but no such comment comes.

"You okay?" You finally ask. The two of you are trapped in here for at least another thirty minutes on the highway alone, then likely another twenty or thirty around town after that. The silence isn't deafening but it's making you a little uneasy.

"Me? Yeah- I'm great. Fantastic, actually. Why wouldn't I be? Nothing's wrong. Everything's peachy." The instructor rambles.

Something's definitely wrong. You're not a very confrontational person but you'd rather have whatever issue at hand out in the open than let it linger silently the remainder of your test. "Luke-"

As you're getting his attention, the car begins to splutter. Numerous lights illuminate the dashboard, a loud rumbling sound making the steering wheel shake beneath your hands. Immediately, Luke begins to press on the emergency instructor's breaks and with some guidance, he helps you pull off on the shoulder just as the engine dies.

Not believing the sight before you, you turn to Luke, who's equally as shocked and silent, both of your chests heaving. "What the hell?" You ask aloud.

"I have no clue," Luke says frantically. "The car's been running fine all day. There weren't any warning lights, were there?"

Truthfully, you don't remember. "I don't.. think so? All of them lit up before it crapped out."

"Shit," Luke curses lowly. "Let me see if I can figure out what's going on."

Luke slips out of the Camry, leaving his clipboard behind. You hear him yell, muffled, "Pop the hood!" And you do, after taking a second to find the button with your shaky fingers.

The longer Luke is beneath the hood the longer you worry. It's an early Thursday evening, on a fairly quiet highway, and the likelihood that some passerby is going to offer assistance is slim. Plus, tow trucks in this area only operate within a ten mile radius, so it's unlikely you'll find one for a reasonable price if the car is toast.

This is what you get for thinking he's cute, your brain tosses at you. You know it isn't true but it's kind of ironic, isn't it?

Luke slips back inside the car. "Well, one of the hoses broke," He sighs, digging through the pockets of his shorts in search of his cellphone. "So the car won't start even if we wanted it to. We'll have to call a tow truck."

"Of course this would happen during my driving exam," You sigh, eyes fluttering shut as a low, frustrated groan crawls up your throat. "Just my luck."

"I probably shouldn't include the fact that I have no service then, should I?"

Your eyes pry open. "What?" You ask, finding your phone and sure enough, no fucking signal. "Seriously? We're on the damn highway, not in the middle of the ocean!"

"Hey, we'll be fine," Luke rests his hand momentarily on your shoulder and you try to ignore the goosebumps rising on your skin. Sheepishly, he pulls it away. "I'll see if I can make an emergency call to highway patrol."

"Please do," You mumble weakly.

Your father would have a field day if he could see you. Barely a week into living away from them and you're stranded on the side of the highway with a hot driving instructor. What a joke.

With no luck, Luke groans, tossing his phone onto the dashboard. "My phone died," he says. "Can you call on yours?"

"Yeah," You dial using your phone's emergency function, only to be met with CALL FAILED in big letters. "How the hell can an emergency call fail?"

"Okay, well at least we've both probably eaten recently and I keep snacks in the trunk," You toss a glare towards the blonde, not finding his statement remotely relieving at all. "What? Teenagers get grumpy so I always have granola bars on hand."

"So we're stuck," You sigh softly. Luke nods, hands toying with one another. "Until I get signal or someone passing by takes pity on us."

"I'm sorry Y/N," Luke says quietly. "About- about all of this. I really had no idea, this car's never given me any problems."

"It's not your fault," You glance over at him, noticing his lower lip tucked between his teeth. "I'm gonna walk a bit and see if I can get signal, alright?"

"You shouldn't go alone," Luke says, a bit rushed. "I mean, not that you aren't capable or anything because I'm sure you are - female empowerment and all that I just- uh-"

"Just stay here," You say, a little clipped. You aren't upset with him, just the situation. "I'll be right back."

Luke swallows thickly, blue eyes wide. "Yes m'am."

You slip out of the car and begin walking along the shoulder, grass and gravel crunching beneath your feet, checking your cellphone every few seconds in hopes that a signal will appear. A big fat SOS stares back at you, practically mocking you.

After ten or so minutes, you aren't sure how far you've walked but you can't see the Camry anymore. You know it'll cool off soon as the sun begins to set and it'll be best if you're somewhere safe. Regretfully, you head back to the car to find Luke scribbling on his clipboard in the passenger seat.

"Nothing," You say, checking your phone once more, noticing it's been about thirty minutes since you've pulled off the road. "What're you drawing over there?"

"Just doodling," He says, showing you a mix of scribbles along the bottom of your driving checklist. "What else am I supposed to do? We're stuck for the time being."

"Yeah, you're right."

It's silent for a few minutes, aside from Luke's been inking the checklist. "We could.. play a game, maybe? Something to keep our minds off of.. y'know, the whole car breaking down thing."

"What kind of game?" You ask.

"Oh- uh, twenty questions?" Luke offers.

You snort. Twenty questions is for horny teenagers, not two almost-strangers stuck in a broken down vehicle on the side of the highway. "Guess that's a no."

"What about what are the odds?" You suggest. "I played it all the time with my soccer friends, it's pretty fun."

"Okay," Luke agrees. "You'll have to explain the rules to me, though."

You sit up a little straighter, a smile unknowingly tugging at your lips. Maybe there's an ulterior motive ping-ponging in the back of your mind. Maybe.

"It's really easy. One of us says something like 'what are the odds that you'll make an embarrassing noise', then pick a number in your head, and on the count of three we'll both say a number and if it's the same the other person has to do that thing. Make sense?"

"I think I've got it," Luke nods, turning in his seat with excited eyes. He looks fucking adorable. You shake your head, getting comfortable in the seat. "Okay, can I go first?"

"Go for it."

"Okay- uh, what are the odds that you'll.. you'll- tell me something about yourself?"

That's not quite it but a good start, Luke.

"One through fifteen." You say. "Three.. two... one.."

"Ten."

"Twelve."

"Ah, shit," Luke frowns. "I don't think I'm very good at this."

"You'll get the hang of it," You tap his knee with the back of your hand without a thought, watching his cheeks twinge pink. "I'll go. What are the odds you'll pass me?"

"One in.. ten," Luke says. "Three.. two.. one.."

"Six."

"Aha!" You grin, victoriously. "See, I'm a mindreader."

"As if I'd flunk you," Luke rolls his eyes. "You're a good driver, Y/N. You need to be a little more confident but there's no way I'd fail you."

You need to be a little more confident. Sure, Luke was talking about driving but that doesn't mean you can't apply that statement to anything else, right?

"Alright, my turn," Luke rolls his lips in thought. "What are the odds that.. you'd be my friend on Facebook?"

"Facebook?" You ask, a brow raised. "Nobody uses Facebook anymore, Luke."

"I do," Luke defends softly, shoulders drawing inward. "Just play along, Y/N."

"Okay, fine," You laugh softly. "Uhh, one in ten. Three.. two.. one.."

"Four."

"Eight."

"Damn, looks like we won't be Facebook friends," You tease, the flush still bright and red and pretty on Luke's cheeks. He's so easy to fluster. You almost regret what you're about to say. "What are the odds you'll admit the real reason we stopped at the rest area?"

Luke's face falls. "I.." He glances away from you, clearly caught off guard and there's a stinging in your chest. You should've just kept your mouth shut, he didn't deserve to be called out like that.

"I'm so sorry, that was too far, I-"

"It's..okay," Luke lets out a wavering breath. "I feel really bad about that," Your brows furrow. "Look I- I think you're really pretty and this is so, so unprofessional of me but I uh- you said girlfriend and my mind just- went off on it's own. I'm sorry."

"Oh," Your mouth feels dry all of a sudden. "You were thinking of me with- oh."

Luke looks away, clearly embarrassed, a blush blooming down his neck. "I'm sorry, Y/N. It was really inappropriate and I shouldn't have."

"It's okay," You assure him. Luke looks like a kicked puppy, unsure as his eyes slowly meet yours, not quite believing you. "Seriously, it's fine. I- yeah, I'm also into girls. I don't blame you for your.. thoughts, or whatever."

Luke sucks in a sharp breath, like you've said something sinfully explicit. "I- maybe we should end the game here before I say something really stupid."

He isn't covert about it, covering his growing hard-on, beginning to tent his shorts. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, trailing along the inside of your lower lip. Fuck, you have quite the opportunity here and it would be a shame if you let it go to waste. Consensually, of course.

"You're thinking about me with a girl again, aren't you?" You boldly accuse, your eyes narrowing in a teasing manner, watching Luke's gentle blue eyes widen and mouth fall open. "It's okay if you are."

He's so.. submissive. You've never really explored the whole dynamic of positions like that but making your instructor blush and squirm makes you feel.. hot.

"Maybe," Luke's voice is small, soft, and you're loving every second of it. "Y/N, I-"

"What're you thinking about, Luke?" You ask, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the center console, your tone low. "Me kissing another girl, maybe? Getting all hot and bothered and messy and wet?"

A whimper crawls up his throat. "I- fuck."

You trail a finger along his thigh, tracing the leg of his shorts. "Maybe you'd just watch, huh?" You provoke him, watching his Adam's apple bob in his throat. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah- I would.." His voice is weak, lips parting and soft little pants escaping them. He's so easy for it, you love it. The dominance rolling off of you in waves seems to come naturally and who are you to deny it? "Y/N.."

"What, Luke? What do you need?"

Need. Luke keens. "I.. can I.."

"You wanna touch yourself?" You ask.

"No.. you, please."

You hum. How can you say no, when he sounds so wrecked like that? "Think there's enough room for us in the back there?"

"Don't wanna.. move," Luke mumbles, eyes already glazed over. He's so far gone. "My lap?"

You won't toy with him anymore, not when he's offering to get you off. To touch you. God, his fingers are beautiful and long and you're dying to have them buried inside of you. "Yeah, 'kay." You puff out, watching Luke adjust himself properly and helping guide you to sit in his lap, your knees on either side of his hips.

It isn't ideal but it'll work. He works with shaky, excited hands to unfasten the button and zipper of your jean shorts before trailing his fingers along the waistline of your underwear. "Can I?" You nod, teeth sinking into your lower lip in anticipation.

Without hesitance, Luke dips his hand into the waistband, finding your damp heat with ease. His fingers curl around you, whimpering at the warmth before a finger slips inside of you, slick and velvety. "Oh- fuck."

"Luke," You moan out softly, clasping a hand on the instructor's shoulder. He carries a steady pace, sliding a second finger beside the first, brutally hard at the warmth coating his digits. "Fuck, feels so good."

"You're so wet," He mumbles, like he's surprised, peering up at your blissed out features. "Fuck, did I- did I do this to you?"

"Yes," Your hips shift greedily, making his fingers sink deeper into you. "You're just so.."

"So?" You can feel his breath against your collarbone through your shirt.

"So needy," You moan, rotating your hips, effectively riding Luke's fingers, like he's some kind of toy. "It's so hot, how hard you get so easily- I- fuck, there."

"Y/N," Luke pants against you, his free hand trailing up to your hip, holding tightly. "Wanna make you cum, please."

"Yeah?" You breathe out. "Gonna let me ride your fingers? Fuck myself until I cum?"

"Oh god," Luke trembles, his movements faltering but it doesn't matter, you're moving steadily and the more you shift the more his fingers hit that perfect spot. You can feel it in your toes, that you're close, but you need something else to get you there.

"Did you think about me?" You ask, a light sweat forming on your brow. "When you got off in the bathroom? Did you moan for me?"

"Yes," Luke admits in a whine. "Yes- fucking- came so hard, Y/N. Thought of you the whole time."

Just thinking about Luke, working his cock so quickly in his fist thinking about you is enough, warmth flooding your stomach as your orgasm rapidly approaches and you're releasing all over Luke's fingers. Like a fucking floodgate.

"Oh fuck," You hear him moan, fingers slowing as your hips come to a halt. "Fuck, Y/N."

Blissful and warm and flushed, Luke retracts his fingers from you, the digits glistening as he slips them into his mouth with needy, complacent hums. He looks more wrecked than you do.

"Can I- can I ride you?" You blurt.

Luke goes rigid. "What?"

"I wanna ride you," You reiterate. "I wanna fuck you, Luke. Can I?"

"You- yeah, fuck of course," Luke's eyes are blue and glassy and glazed and you aren't even sure how he's functioning right now. He hasn't even cum yet so- wait. "Just give me a minute.."

Curiously, you shift back a bit on his lap to see he's half-hard and there's an obvious damp patch on the front of his shorts. "Did you cum while you were touching me?"

Luke nods. "Sorry."

"Fuck that's so hot," You can't help it, fitting both hands beneath his jaw to tilt his head upward, capturing his lips easily with your own. He tastes like spearmint gum and flavored coffee, it's all you can think about when you feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip. That was too easy, you can already feel his dick fattening against your thigh again. "Do you have a condom?"

"In my wallet," Luke pants against your mouth. "I wasn't like- expecting this, by the way."

"Neither was I," You laugh softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. "Let me get my shorts off."

Car sex seems so hot in theory until you're caught up in the moment and you're stuck trying to take off clothing where it's just not possible. You manage to slip your shorts off, leaving your damp underwear on before claiming Luke's lap once again. The condom sits in the crevice between his thigh and hip, fly open and dick straining against the seam of his boxers.

"Get yourself ready for me," You tell him softly, your fingertips trailing along your lower abdomen, along the inside of your shirt to cup your breasts beneath your bra. Luke's in a trance, nearly swallowing his own tongue before nodding and barely wiggling his shorts and boxers down his hips. He slips the condom on, abandoning the foil packet god knows where, before stroking himself a few times with a gentle hiss. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."

Luke squirms at that. "Thank you," he mutters. "Can I- are you ready?"

"So ready," He carefully aligns his hips with yours before slowly pressing inside, letting out tiny whimpers with every inch he sinks in. "Fuck."

"Y/N," Luke moans, eyes threatening to fall shut. His hands find your thighs, blunt nails digging into the soft skin there, hips threatening to rut upwards at the sheer warmth encasing his cock. It's immeasurable, how good you feel wrapped snugly around him.

"So good, Luke, you're doing so good," You praise gently, holding yourself upright with your hands on his broad shoulders. Once he's buried to the hilt, you slowly rock your hips in a circle, eliciting a short gasp from the blonde. "Such a good boy."

The simple phrase makes Luke choke on his own breath. "You're so warm," he mumbles, lips barely moving, chest rising and falling steadily. You rock your hips again. "Oh my god."

Luke isn't like the guys you've slept with before. He's sensitive and responsive and it's probably the hottest thing you've ever witnessed. It's like he's fighting the urge to give in. Slowly, you begin to bounce in his lap, testing the waters. Luke moans every time you sink down.

"Yeah?" You ask him after a particularly whiny moan falls from his mouth. "Feel good, Luke? Tell me. Tell me how good it feels."

"Feels so good," He babbles, a wheezy, whining mess every bounce you make. It's slick and wet and so fucking hot you know you'll cum again sometime soon. He's hitting all the right spots inside of you. It helps he's probably the biggest dick you've taken by far. "So good. Please don't stop, please."

"Not gonna stop," You mutter, nails sinking into the skin of his shoulders. "You're such a good boy, Luke. Taking it so well. Feel so good inside me."

Luke lets out a squeak when you clench around him. "Mommy-"

Your hips falter briefly but you can't stop, you refuse, because that word, though you've never been called that before it lights a flame inside of your stomach that makes you want more and more and more. "Yeah?" You abandon your grip on one of his shoulders to clasp his jaw, making Luke meet your eyes, his half lidded and cloudy and dark blue. "Gonna let mommy fuck you, Luke? Ride your cock until she cums?"

Luke bites down on his lower lip so hard he swears he can taste blood. His head is swirling, like yours, all fuzzy and fucked dumb. Your pace grows quicker, a bit more focused but frenzied, until Luke's panting to the point where he's babbling words that don't even make any sense. "Gonna- please- need-"

"What, Luke? What do you need?" You ask, ghosting your lips over his own. He whimpers against your mouth.

"Wanna cum, mommy. Can I?"

"Yeah baby," You press a hard kiss to his mouth, pushing your tongue past his lips and that's all he needs, gripping your thighs tightly until he's fully inside of you before releasing into the condom. Luke slumps slightly, clearly spent but you're far from finished. "Stay still, won't you?"

"What-" Luke mutters, flushed and confused when you begin to raise your hips and sink back down on him. "Oh fuck me."

"So close, Luke," He isn't softening in the slightest. It almost makes you smile, makes you proud because he's so turned on, just letting you use him like some kind of fuck toy. "Touch me?"

Luke nods, blissed out, attaching his thumb to your clit and rubbing furious, hard circles. Your thighs tremble as your orgasm builds up, toes curling inside of your shoes before finally letting go and releasing all over his length.

Shuddering through the warmth spreading up the base of your spine, your nails sink into the instructor's shoulders, panting against his mouth as he tips his head up to connect your lips in a soft kiss. Your skin feels tingly in the best way, electric, and your head swarming furiously.

Luke pulls away first. He's so flushed, from the tips of his ears to the base of his neck and you're positive that pretty pink blush has reached his naval, there's no doubt. He's definitely a full-body blusher. "Y/N.."

"Yeah?" You ask quietly, breathless, noticing the windows have fogged up a little bit from your activities.

"Can you.. sorry, it's just uh- the condom's a bit uncomfortable." The blonde grimaces apologetically, reddening further when you muffle out a short laugh and slowly climb off of him. Your underwear are soaked, from your own release, but you slide your shorts back on anyways as Luke ties off the condom and places it hesitantly on the floorboard.

Now that the two of you are dressed, less short on breath, you figure it might be best to address what the hell just happened. "Luke-"

"Y/N-"

"Sorry, go ahead," You mumble.

"I wasn't- planning that. Or, expecting it, I swear," Luke says rather quickly, eyes flitting away from you, a bit embarrassed. "Please don't think I make a habit of this. You're- you're the first."

You swallow harshly. "The first?"

A nervous, awkward laugh tumbles out of Luke's mouth. "No, no, that was a girlfriend in high school. I mean- uh- student."

"Oh," You puff out a relieved breath, resting your head back. You're still warm and relaxed from your orgasms. "Well in that case, I don't really sleep with driving instructors, so I guess it's a first for both of us."

"It's not.." Luke trails off, his voice low, like he isn't sure how to phrase what he's thinking. "It won't be the only time, will it?"

That comes as a bit of a surprise to you. Again, you weren't really the hook-up type but the guys you have hooked up with in the past were quick to forget it even happened and move on with their lives.

You're stunned into a short silence. Will that be the only time you hook up with Luke? Sure, he's funny, and insanely attractive, but aside from the few things you've shared during the drive he's still almost a complete stranger.

"I understand," Luke quietly says.

"No I- sorry, I was just- surprised," You say. "I'd like to see you again. Maybe not in a broken down car on the side of the highway."

Luke chuckles briefly. "Okay, cool," The tension seems to slip from his shoulders. "Sorry, I'm not really good at this. I don't really uh- date? Just, with work and everything it's hard to find the time."

"Being a driving instructor is that demanding?" You inquire, a lighthearted teasing lift to your voice. The highway is still dead silent and the sun is slowly beginning to set. Soon, you'll be cast in a hue of pinks and oranges and pretty purples.

"I race for a living," Luke says, catching your attention abruptly, your brows furrowing in confusion. "It's not something I really bring up in conversation or during uh- other things."

"You're not like, a Nascar driver or something, right?" You joke. Luke stays silent. "What the fuck?"

Way to go, Y/N. Fucking a driving instructor slash Nascar driver. Your parents would be so proud. Stupid girl.

"Like I said, I don't really tell people," Luke quickly defends, swallowing as an anxious look perturbs his features. "This doesn't uh- change anything right? About seeing me again?"

"No but if my dad finds out you're gonna be forced into every Sunday dinner until you're dead," You speak without thinking, still shocked about Luke's line of work. And here you were thinking he was just a dorky driving instructor for the state of Michigan. "Sorry, that was weird."

Luke laughs, shaking his head. He took your comment well, like too well, and you're starting to think maybe Luke isn't real at this point. He's too.. perfect. Handsome, dorky, a fucking racecar driver. "You're fine, I get it. Your dad's a big fan, then?"

"Huge," You sigh. "My brothers, too."

"You think they'd come to a race if I set aside some tickets?" Luke's teeth sink into his bottom lip, a hopeful look on his splotchy, pink face.

"I- I mean yeah," You stumble. "Luke, you really don't have to.."

"I want to," He reassures you, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I really wanna see you again and if free tickets is the way I can then, I'd be dumb not to offer."

"For the record, I'd see you again regardless of the free tickets," You tell him, leaning to rest your elbows on the console. One of his eyebrows arch curiously, in a way that's so damn hot and Luke doesn't even realize it.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"Yeah," You confirm. "By the way-"

You're cut off by the chirping of a siren, glancing out of the rearview mirror to see a State Trooper has parked behind you, lights flashing.

Well fuck. This'll be fun.

#5sos fanfic #5sos imagine #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings imagine #5sos x reader #luke hemmings x reader #5sos smut #luke hemmings smut #luke hemmings x y/n #luke hemmings x you

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ofallthingsnasty · 1 year

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May I request yandere reo mikage manipulating his s/o making them think they need him. This causes Stockholm Syndrome and they later get married and have a child. Reo is praised in the public for being a billionaire, pro-soccer player, good husband and father.

tags: yandere, reo is 20+, emotional abuse, sfw but minors please dni, pregnancy discussion but no pronouns are used word count: 0.7k

Oh, Reo... deceptively sweet and caring Reo. Who needs Stockholm Syndrome when your boyfriend never gave you any weird feelings in the first place, when he showers you with gifts and affection? He is all you could ever ask for, attentive beyond belief and willing to do just about anything for you. He seems to be too good to be true, really: a pro-athlete, rich, only has eyes for you. Who wouldn't get swept up by that? And my, isn't he just like a lovesick little puppy with how he sends you flowers to your workplace, how he picks you up whenever he can - whisking you away for yet another expensive dinner, a new mini-vacation every other weekend. Sweet and handsome and above all, generous - you don't want to leave. It's easy to simply ignore what lurks beneath the surface of that bright smile and boyish enthusiasm: How much he needs you, how he doesn't let go of people he has picked - he's either extremely hot or cold with those few, chosen ones. We've seen how he treats Nagi when all is well, when he can put his faith in someone - but we've also seen how he gets when those feelings get trampled into the ground. He's definitely the type to always try to smooth the waves, who never wants to fight but also has a very peculiar way of communicating any issues he has with your behavior. He doesn't like it all that much when your attention strays from him, for whatever reason. He's extremely emotionally manipulative. Never the one to outright forbid you from going out or even keeping you - but he'll act so cold, will mope for days after you spent a night out, when you dive into one of your hobbies instead of spending time with him. Everything that doesn't suit him is some sort of betrayal to Reo, makes him turn frosty until you apologize for something you don't quite understand. It's subtle and very gradual but you'll soon try to phase out everything that upsets him. It's just so hard to weather his depressive moods, to be in the same house as him while he can't face you without a look of clear disappointment and hurt in his eyes. Not only does he wean you from all your silly little distractions, he rewards you for not giving any of your precious time to your friends and family - even more expensive gifts, the finest food and above all, so much love and praise that it makes you feel dizzy and desperate when he punishes you again after a perceived mishap. He has the art of manipulation down and no matter how much you try to fight against it - you love him. And seeing someone you love so dearly all vulnerable and hurting is bound to shape your behavior. You'll find yourself so entangled in the webs he weaves after just a few months of being together, so dependent on him that you question your ability to ever be single again.

He doesn't view having a child with you as a way to shackle you to him - he genuinely wants a baby, dreams of that picture-perfect little family, of raising a little human with you. A child is the ultimate union between the two of you, the purest declaration of love. That's why it hurts him all the more when you tell him you don't want one right now. Reo just doesn't understand - he has all the money to support you, you've been together for quite a while, had your fun - why not take that jump with him? It feels like you're rejecting him and his love. He won't force you into anything but he'll give you his coldest shoulder yet. He takes your gentle later, honey, just not now and twists it into you completely blindsiding him. He can't even look at you - leaves the house without saying goodbye, doesn't sleep in the same bed as you - hell, you'll even catch him crying once. Reo wears you down emotionally, makes you feel so ungrateful and selfish for denying him this simple thing that you'll fold just after a few days. Does it really matter if you wait another year before you start trying? Doesn't he have all the money in the world to hire a whole gaggle of nannies? What will really change? You only have things to gain. And if it keeps him happy, keeps his eyes shining and you in his good graces, why not start now?

#blue lock x reader #yandere blue lock #reo mikage x reader #reo x reader #yandere reo mikage #tw.yandere

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lau219 · 1 month

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Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

Part 6

Previous part here

**Warning: mentions of emotional abuse, infidelity, pregnancy loss/miscarriage**

…………………………………………………………………………….

A couple evenings later, Emmett was pushing the trash cans to the curb when his sister’s car pulled up into the driveway. She’d called and asked if she could stop by to have him take a look at something on her car, and she’d tossed him her keys as she went inside the house to quickly say hi to the boys.

“I’ve only got 30 minutes before I have to get the kids from soccer,” she said as she passed him on her way into the house. “Work your magic.”

Emmett smiled, but after Stacy had gone inside, the sound of Y/N’s front door opening caught his attention, and he watched as she moved around on her porch to once again water her flowers, not noticing him.

Just like after Henry’s baseball game, they hadn’t spoken since their argument the other night at her house, and Emmett still felt the same combination of frustration and guilt. As she always did whenever he watched her, she looked so beautiful and at ease, and he found himself once again wondering why she couldn’t be that at ease around him, instead of always being on the defensive.

He hadn’t realized Stacy had come back outside, and he cursed under his breath in surprise as she came up next to him and shouted across the driveway.

“Hi, Y/N!”

Looking up, Y/N’s face was blank for a moment before it spread into a huge smile upon seeing Stacy.

“Stacy? Oh my God, how are you?! I haven’t seen you in months!” Y/N immediately stepped off her porch and crossed over the driveway and met her, she and Stacy embracing before they began catching up.

Emmett always forgot that Y/N and Stacy had been in the same class in high school, and when Y/N had moved in next door to him, she and Stacy had gone out together a few times after reconnecting. As they wrapped up their little reunion, Y/N looked at Emmett over Stacy’s shoulder. As their eyes met, Y/N stepped back from Stacy and spoke to him.

“You left this on my kitchen counter the other night,” she said to him plainly as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small pair of pliers. “I’m guessing you might have been looking for it.”

“Right, thanks,” Emmett replied, keeping his expression neutral as he took it from her. Y/N pulled her eyes from his as she looked at Stacy once more and said a final goodbye before heading back inside her house. Once Y/N’s door had closed, Stacy looked at Emmett.

“Well, that was frosty,” she said, slight amusement on her face. “Lovers’ spat?”

“What?” Emmett said as he looked back at her in confusion. “We’re not dating.”

“So just neighbors with benefits, then?”

Emmett shook his head.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Why were you at her house and leaving your stuff behind if you’re not seeing each other?” Stacy asked.

“Her A/C wasn’t working, so I went over to fix it for her,” Emmett explained.

“Oh,” Stacy responded. “Darn! I thought maybe you guys had finally given up the façade and started something.”

“What façade?” said Emmett.

Stacy gave him a look.

“Come on; it’s obvious you two are into each other. I see it every time. I could see it right now.”

“You realize you sound like you’re back in high school?” Emmett replied.

Stacy gave him another look.

“My point is, you two are actually perfect for each other. You guys should stop beating around the bush and just act on it. You both deserve to be happy.”

“I don’t think ‘happy’ is a feeling she associates with me,” Emmett replied. “Especially not after what happened the other night.”

Stacy frowned.

“Why? What happened?”

Emmett proceeded to give Stacy a quick recap of the argument he and Y/N had gotten in at her house. He also mentioned how she’d failed to find the humor in how he’d teased her about being the nurse present at Henry’s game the other week.

“She gets so defensive,” Emmett finished. “Just when it seems like she’s relaxed, she finds something else to get worked up about.”

“Well, she’s always been very...passionate; she was like that in high school,” Stacy said. “But she’s an absolute sweetheart. And as far as being defensive, I can’t say I’m surprised if she took what you said a little bit too much to heart. Poor thing.”

“What do you mean?” Emmett asked.

Stacy looked at him and cocked her head.

“Don’t you know what happened to her before she moved back here?”

Emmett simply furrowed his brow in response.

“She was married for a few years to a guy she met in college,” Stacy said. “He seemed great at first, but he was actually really emotionally abusive towards her. She told me that he would always put her down and criticize her. Then, it turns out he’d been sleeping around on her the entire marriage. Eventually, she realized the guy was a jerk, but she definitely still has a lot of self-doubt because of all that.”

Stacy paused as a pained expression crossed her face.

“To add insult to injury, she’d had a miscarriage right before she found out he was cheating. It was pretty early, but she’s always wanted to be a mom, so she took that especially hard.”

Emmett was silent as he processed what Stacy had just brought to light. He hadn’t known any of this about Y/N, and as he began to put the pieces together, things started making a lot more sense. Although he’d meant it harmlessly, he now felt even guiltier about what he’d said to her the other night, and he cursed under his breath again as he looked at Stacy.

“Well, now I feel like a total asshole,” he said.

“You didn’t know,” Stacy said in an effort to make him feel better.

No, he definitely hadn’t known.

———————————————————-

“Wait, so after he fixed your air, you yelled at him and threw him out?”

Melissa stared at Y/N in disbelief as they sat with their lunches in the hospital cafeteria.

“I didn’t yell at him,” Y/N replied, avoiding Melissa’s eyes. “I just told him he was a pain in the ass.”

“Oh, well that’s much better,” Melissa replied sarcastically.

Y/N finally looked at her.

“Look, I feel bad, ok? I probably overreacted, but at the same time, he was making fun of me.”

“He was flirting with you,” Melissa countered.

Y/N just scoffed.

“I’m serious,” Melissa continued. “Every time you tell me a story like this, you think he’s going at you, but I don’t think that’s how it is. I think he likes you.”

Y/N made a face.

“What? So, it’s like they tell you in grade school?” she said. “Where when a boy makes fun of you, it’s because he actually likes you?”

“It was harmless teasing,” Melissa retorted. She paused for a moment before giving Y/N a more serious look. “I know it’s not easy, but you’ve got to let your guard down. Not all men are like he was, you know.”

Y/N sighed.

“I know,” she replied.

“Frankly, of all people, Emmett would have the right to be a jerk.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked her.

“He’s had to deal with a lot.”

“You mean with his kids?” Y/N asked confusedly. “They’re angels.”

“No, with his ex-wife,” Melissa stated. “She put him through the wringer.”

Y/N furrowed her brow. Of course, she knew that Emmett was divorced, but that was the extent of her knowledge on the subject.

“You don’t know the story?” Melissa asked.

Y/N shook her head.

“She left him and the kids without any sort of warning,” Melissa explained. “I mean, from what I’ve heard, the marriage had been going downhill for a while, but he definitely didn’t expect to be left to raise two kids on his own. They’d been together since they were pretty young, and from what I’ve heard, she just decided one day that she didn’t want to be a mother anymore. After she left, Emmett was on his own to figure out how to raise the kids by himself. I think Max was only 4 or 5 at the time.”

Y/N hadn’t known any of this. Over the time she’d lived next door, she’d gathered that his ex-wife wasn’t really in the picture, but she’d assumed that she at least still had some kind of contact and interaction with Emmett and the boys.

“Wow,” was Y/N’s small, quiet response. She couldn’t imagine how heartbroken Max and Henry must have been, and she was in awe of the fact that Emmett had been completely on his own with them. She looked at Melissa.

“You’re the gossip queen,” she then said. “Why have you never mentioned any of this before when I talked about him?”

“I figured you knew,” Melissa replied with a shrug. “Especially since you’re friends with Stacy.”

“We’re not super close,” Y/N responded. “I mean, I like her a lot, but we mostly just see each other in passing. She’s got three kids of her own. She’s busy.”

Y/N put her chin in her hand and stared blankly ahead, still digesting everything Melissa had just divulged.

“The two of you should get together, you and Emmett,” Melissa suddenly said out of nowhere.

“What?!” Y/N said, looking at her. “Where did that come from?”

Melissa gave her a look that said, Oh, please.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it,” she said. “For all the little squabbles you guys have had, it’s clear that you like him. And I think he definitely is interested in you, too.”

“No, he probably hates me now. Even more than he did before,” Y/N said.

“Doubtful,” Melissa replied. “And you’re already close with his kids... If you ask me, it’s meant to be.” She paused briefly before finishing. “But regardless, whatever the case, you need to stop putting up walls.”

But Y/N was afraid that she didn’t know how to stop.

Part 7

@nyxxie-pooh @febris-amatoria @natalie--rushman @xsweetcatastrophe @alltoowellbeneaththemangotree @hannibellector @devotedlyshadowytheorist @aphroditeslover11 @garrison-girl-08 @fuseburner @neonpurplestars89-blog @beastofburdenxo

#emmett x female reader #emmet a quiet place x reader #emmett a quiet place 2 #emmett a quiet place #emmett fic #emmett smut #cillian murphy #cillian fic #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian smut #18+ only

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