#I’m always like wish she won’t see that but right now I’m like please see that post so she knows without having to tell her

[iznsfw]

Reputation, Or Whatever That Is

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 12 - Jang Wonyoung

IVE's Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader Smut

7,063 words

Categories | daddy kink, brat!Wonyoung, squirting, blowjob, please appreciate Wonyoung's power bottom capabilities

Sorry, Yena is coming out sometime but I wanted to finally write something timely. JANG WONYOUNG WHAT THE FUCKKKKK.

Please bear with the religious metaphors, I have Catholic guilt and Wonyoung reignites it. I'm not sorry for all the other fucked up shit here I'm just ooga boogaing because what the FUCK

It’s a little brighter today than usual. The sun surely knows what's about to happen upon its rising. It has no plans of telling you beforehand, so you’re forced to find out yourself. 

You open Instagram, which is insane because you never bother to look at pictures—much less edited, filtered ones made for meaningless impressions. Your blissful ignorance of online concepts is what would make your fans hate you if they had space in their deluded hearts to. Or maybe that’s your age talking.

But today, clicking on that app is what you do, and that already should have been a sign that something’s not right. The usual run of your universe has gone off course. Who could have made that so?

Coffee. The black stillness that’s pure of sweetness and sugar. That’s supposed to keep everything normal. You sip on it as you scroll through clickbait, fan accounts, edits—

Then you wish you never took that hot gulp at all.

Wonyoung. 

It’s all because of her. 

She stands there from behind your screen, silky hair tangled in those lithe long fingers. She’s looking at the camera like she wants whoever took the time to click on her profile to come over and fuck her right now. Man or woman, poor or rich—it doesn’t matter. What ought to matter though is the fact that she doesn’t have someone’s hands slipped around her waist and pulling her close.

You shouldn’t even be thinking about it.

Usually, she’s dressed in knitted pink coats and miniskirts; looking fashionable but modest, modest but unplain. That’s what everyone loves about Jang Wonyoung: she’s prim, sweet, and the daughter of the nation. 

Now, she’s the ideal girl to take right home and have your wicked way with. Yes, you’d feel guilty since she’s so young, just the little age of nineteen. Still, that doesn’t mean you’d have any regrets. She’s the kind of girl you can’t get away from. You’ll always come back for more.

You’d hate to be so upfront, but there’s no other way to interpret it. 

There’s that fucking denim bra hugging her tiny chest, stitched up so high that her abs are on full display. That little pinch of a waist curves so perfectly right up to her wide hips that invite and invite and invite—

Remember to exhale.

So, yeah. That’s how Wonyoung ruined your day, and you barely had your morning coffee.

A text message from your boss appears. You nearly miss it because of how you’re staring all ogle-eyed at the tempting girl on your screen. Before you even click it, you already know what you ought to do. 

hey, it reads, you need to—

-

—go to Wonyoung, and for such a scandalous photo, she’s chosen a remote but classy hotel only the biggest stars know of to shoot it. 

There’s no going back when you drive like you’re running from the law when you’ll break one if you pull the wrong stunt with her. Your throat’s coiled with an unreleased breath that won’t go away unless you see her. It’s like traveling with the promise of meeting a goddess, and although you’re not religious anymore, you wear very, very close to rediscovering faith.

The hotel is grand—clear marble floors and shining chandeliers—and it’s no surprise. Wonyoung wouldn’t have things any other way. You know that when she’s come to your office to complain about her outfits and brands. 

You go up to the desk with prepared evidence for what you’re going to say. “I’m an associate of your client miss Jang Wonyoung,” you say to the lady tapping away behind her computer, “and I’ve come to visit her.”

Associate? It’s more like mentor. You’re a veteran idol whose efforts inspire the rookies, therefore getting you the responsibility of looking out for Wonyoung. So, father figure, maybe? You wince at that.

She makes a polite sad look, still not removing her eyes from the screen. “I’m sorry, miss Jang doesn’t have—”

Slide your ID card on the counter.

She glances at it, stiffens, then looks up at you. There’s only one of you in the entire South Korea, and although the 1x1 traces back to when you were a bit more youthful, it’s not hard to put two and two together. 

She apologizes quickly and offers you an elevator ride exclusive for VVIPs. Smile. It’s been a while since your last return to music, but everyone knows you here. Everyone knows your power.

Wonyoung’s place is the first room on the twelfth floor, a flinching irony.

Knock. You rap your knuckles three times for good luck and charm, because you’ll need it with her. Jang Wonyoung is everything save an easy girl. You remember the many times she refused to give up a debate on how she’s managed, how she’s styled, how she’s treated. She wants things to go her way only.

“Wonyoung,” you call out. Fidget with the handle of the door that refuses to budge. “It’s me.”

Knock a little more. There’s no eye behind the peekhole or a soft “come in.” You receive only the unlocking of the furnished knob and a welcome that makes you wish this could go the way your morals would want it to go.

The door opens you to a gorgeous suite that’s the supreme of all room tiers. This is the kind that only the richest of the rich are able to attain. Big as a house with a soft carpeted ground, there’s a queen-sized bed before a wide window of the city. Picture frames commissioned by the wealthy hang from the painted walls. All for the fucking aesthetic.

Even you, a star who paved the way for the Korean entertainment industry itself, aren’t used to this type of wealth. 

Find her sitting on the ledge of the window frame. Wonyoung has her hands resting on the sides of the window frame. She doesn’t try at least a stance at nonchalance—no admiring stare at the beautiful view, no worried gaze at her clean fingernails. Her interest is you standing before her like you’re afraid to touch her. She might be right, but it’s not like you’d ever have it in you to admit that.

Even you, a man lusted over by girls and women all over the world, aren’t used to this kind of woman—the kind that eats away at you.

“Wonyoung.” Inside, you feel like the weakest man in the world.

She has this smarmy, confident smile on her perfect lips that tells you that it’s no surprise that you’ve come all the way here for her. No surprise at all. She expected it. Anticipated it, if you will.

Don’t mistake the coquettish float of her lashes for theatrics. No, Jang Wonyoung’s just naturally someone you’d want to fuck, no matter the politics of it. “Yes?”

Her voice is also just that pretty. That’s a large part of why it’s so hard to act professional in front of her when she’s your mentee. Even more so by the fact you’re someone she’s looked up to for the majority of her trainee years, which is already something that would make people’s brows lift.

“Wonyoung.” You let your shoulders rest. “Why are you still dressed like that?”

You know all the dialogue that passes around the general public. Oh, Jang Wonyoung’s so gorgeous! Jang Wonyoung’s even more beautiful in real life! You hate to say you can’t disagree. She’s deadlier in person; her body’s there before the glass like she’s waiting for someone to give in to temptation. That coy simper can ruin careers. It can ruin yours. 

To think it all could be gone because of a nineteen-year-old celebrity with a tiny waist and legs you’d love to have around your head.

“Why are you still dressed like someone from the eighties?” Wonyoung taps her chin, then grins. She’s figured it all out. “Oh wait, you are.”

You’re not taking insults from someone who’s below you in experienced years and power. Unluckily, she’s not taking advice from someone above her or below her.

The step you take towards her, towards the little star seated comfortably waiting for you, feels like a sin. 

“You’re incredibly unprofessional for a girl who’s worked her way up here,” you note. Cross your arms and give her a reprimanding look. 

Wonyoung’s immune to nasty looks, too. She’s been doing this since she was a child. If someone gave her a glare that read all too well of a career assassination, she’d wink the bullet away sweetly. “Hm,” she says contemplatively, “I don’t think you get to say that, honestly.”

Your laugh is blunt and sarcastic. Unbelievable. Wonyoung’s the kindest girl according to the people who work for her, so why is she a rebel in your hands? It doesn’t make sense.

“Look here, we—”

You take three steps closer to her. You’ll keep your little rituals and superstitions to keep yourself grounded. Without them, you’d go insane. 

Then without her having to do anything, she comes nearer, like a doomsday foretold by a ticking clock. Who knows? That clock could be a bomb, and that bomb would set off if you dare to touch her with a trembling fingertip. You’d leave the scene injured. And eventually, you’d die the moment they try to help you, because the deed’s been done.

“Oh, I’m looking, alright,” she chirps. She’s doing what you’ve held yourself back from doing: letting her eyes wander. “And I really, really like what I see.”

You’re someone several awards her senior, and you’re still quite intimidated by her at this moment. She’s so sweet yet so honest—she won’t make up a lie to make you feel better and she won’t hide the truth to make you comfortable. Refuse the truth her eyes locked on your crotch tell. You won’t accept it. It’s not right.

“I’m serious.” Approaching her makes you want to go on your knees and beg the lord for a little saving. Do it anyway. No one will rescue you. That’s what the industry taught you. “You’ve made it all the way up here. All by yourself. There’s gotta be something. What are you throwing it all away for?”

She laughs. Funniest thing she’s ever heard. “I’m not. How am I throwing it all away?” 

“Those posts,” you hiss. Doesn’t she get it?

Before she could ask you what you’re talking about, you whip out your phone. Click on the app icon. It instantly shows you the opened tab containing Wonyoung’s recent Instagram posts. Look at her, wrapped in nothing, not even those curtains—giving the camera bedroom eyes when girls her age shouldn’t be shooting them at anyone or be aware of how to. 

It’s already massed a million likes in under an hour. But you know what people who turn on anyone easily will say, and what they say could blot Wonyoung’s bright future by a lot. A million people around the world have caught sight of the abs she’s worked hard for, her toned back, and just about everything. A loud minority with frisky influences can sabotage her whole reputation.

“These posts,” you continue, shoving the screen into the poor girl’s face, “can take away everything you’ve worked for. All that fame, all that money, you can’t brag about them after this.”

Wonyoung looks on innocently. She stares at the screen with uninterested eyes, then switches them back on you. She looks like such a good girl in that second, with her hands seated beside her and that face so full of sparkling perfection. 

Deception can’t lead you away. 

“So, what’s it gonna be, Wonyoung?” 

Long silence that builds up your frustration. Finally, she clicks her tongue. Gives you a shrug of her thin shoulders.

“You liked it.”

“What?”

She points to your phone. “You liked my post,” she repeats. “It says so right there.”

What the hell is she talking about?

You look at the device you’re brandishing. For a while, you can’t find out what she’s referring to. You can never take a liking to her posts, although if they switch on something you didn’t know you can feel. You’d die before—

The heart. 

Wait.

The heart button below her set of pictures is filled with red.

Your heart pumps faster, a button pushed and played.

Fuck.

You turn to her and open your mouth. No sensible words come out. You swear you didn’t tap twice on her update or take it to a private setting. How did it happen? Worse, even if you say that to her, she’d take it as a pathetic lie.

Wonyoung giggles. It’s a tinkly sound that’s adorable, but you’ve long realized that being cute is not all there is to her. She rises slowly, sets her palms over your blazer-clad arms, and gives you an empathetic face. It’s so condescending that you want to dissolve. 

“I know what men like you are all about,” she tells you. She speaks with a sultriness that makes you feel warm and has bumps appearing in masses across your skin.

She smiles. Her eyes disappear into crescent moons and the dimple appears on her cheek. You’re done for. 

“Come on,” Wonyoung continues, squeezing your forearms. “Here you are, a big old man known for being a good singer or whatever. You’re so popular that the first thing that pops up on Naver is your face. Everything goes right for you, doesn’t it?”

You have no idea where she’s going with this. You’re afraid to even ask. Your teeth grit as her massages grow stronger, harder. 

Something else is, too.

“Then, of course, you see me.” 

Her hand. It’s curling around your wrist and bringing your fingers right around that flawless waist. She closes them there tightly.

It’s so bad that it’s good. You want to keep touching her, maybe slip your gliding fingers down her jeans. Oh, you shouldn’t. You can’t.

“You see me, and you get all hot and bothered. And what’s so funny is I’m not even doing anything. I’m just being myself, you know. Being young and rich… a beautiful girl…” Wonyoung is unbuttoning your shirt and you don’t realize it. “You can’t understand how I’m allowed to be this hot when you can’t even fuck me with a normal conscience.”

It’s all so wrong. You want to shake her by the shoulders and tell her to shut up. But if Medusa has her eyes, Wonyoung has her lips to turn you to stone. They keep opening elegantly to speak the filthiest, most fucked up shit, and you can’t deny anything.

Her eyes are creased with knowing pride. Her youth doesn’t rescue her from being so messed in the head already. Those thoughts don’t go along with such a pretty face.

“That’s why you like to get rough with me. You tell me to watch how I speak, watch how I act. You tell me to stop talking to you like you’re no one. You tell me that I’m such a little brat. But you only do that so you can get to control me. That’s your most fucked up dream, right?”

Her mouth is the tiniest space away from your chin. 

You’re another word away from saving yourself a spot in damnation.

Her finger that scratches a flaw on your blazer beckons you to the fire. “You’re not breaking the law or anything,” says Wonyoung, “so why not break me instead, daddy?”

That’s a deal sealed with a rough kiss.

You grab her cruelly and cover her lips with yours. They’re more amazing than you imagined, soft and competent with how she pushes in deeper, depriving herself of the air she needs the most just to get what she needs just a bit more:

You. 

Your tongues collide and clash, striving to get the most taste. She pulls your blazer off (because fuck professionalism, right?) while she kisses you with a hunger that’s equally mental and physical. It’s not like she’d bruise up if you didn’t get your hands on her yet it’s close to that. 

And, in your case, it’s not like you’re breaking any law. She’s nineteen, not anywhere under the limits you’d kill others and yourself for touching. Nonetheless, you’re much older—by age, she could be your daughter; by career, she’s your junior; by power, you’re much stronger. 

So, it’s still so wrong.

Can’t be when Wonyoung’s fist, firm around your cock, feels so right. 

Can’t be when she lands on the edge of the bed with her lips parted in delight as she watches your dick stiffen under her service. 

“There you go, daddy,” she coos, smirking. “Just get all hard for me, then you can stuff that big thing up in my pussy.”

Her thumb toys with your cockhead. You purse your lips to hold back a groan. Let go of it anyway when her smooth, closed palm rubs your sensitive flesh. She cups your balls lovingly before gliding her teasing fingertips under your length, right up to your tip. The girl knows how to do this; she’s good at more things other than MCing and performing.

Wonyoung hones this skill with firmer pumps, giving you the handjob of a lifetime. Her long fingers are just made to handle dick. Each stroke is perfection that holds and pulls and slides. You’re leaking so much already. 

So you turn into the driver of the hate train, the press that loves getting her bad angles and the articles that slash up her name:

Blame it all on her. 

Because you have here a girl, young and pretty and confident, so of course you have to scrape off your sins and nail them all on her, like a quivering hand to wood.

“You think you’re getting it that easily?” you say. Your moan is squeezed in your throat. “Baby, you’re not even close to it.”

Wonyoung smirks. It’s that self-assured, elegant smile that tells you that won’t work on her. She might be a rookie, but she knows how to play the game. 

She tightens her grip painfully. That’s what you get for trying to one her up. Do that to anyone, just not Jang Wonyoung. Your cry goes unheard as she yanks you rather than jerks you off. Spits on your head for good measure. Wonyoung’s eyes make a connection with your soul and says, Yep, that’s what I’d do if you weren’t my senior. In fact, I’d do it regardless. I’d choke and spit and leave you to die, because a pretty Samaritan is better than a good one.

“You’re really out of touch, daddy.” 

With Wonyoung slathering her drool all over you, you’re forced to teeter on the line between heaven and hell. It burns yet the offer of pleasure leaves you sated.

“You think I’m like the pretty girls out there? Other girls might have broken down and begged you to come back.” 

Your rod is subjected to a brief torrid kiss, then a smile as the wicked girl looks up at you.

She laughs, gives you this smile full of haught and womanly power. “Too bad I’m Jang Wonyoung,” she says, her last words before taking you in.

Yes, it’s too bad she’s Jang Wonyoung. It’s too bad she’s not the other girls who’d kneel for a burning touch of stars like you. She wouldn’t be holding control over you with the power of her lips if she had sanity in that pretty head.

Her plump tiers wrap around you and seize everything, encasing it in softness and wetness. Her tongue, the one she uses as a killer expression for her selfies and Instagram updates, kills you all the same with how it swirls around your skin and tastes you. Trying to pretend the girl wasn’t a pro at this like she is with everything else is useless. She’ll keep proving you wrong and overpowering you.

The whole of your shaft is sucked in, then, when her cute nose is pressed directly to your stomach, she lets out a hummed laugh. You shudder—as much as it makes you feel good, fear grips your muscles and makes them limp. She’s loving how wrong everything is, and you’re not sure if you like it.

Her jaw slacks, and then Wonyoung’s swallowing you like you’re water. Can’t be water when you’re this solid in her throat. You let out a shivering groan. You can picture the bulge in Wonyoung’s neck and it’s the last thing you’d count on turning you on, but they did tell you to expect the unexpected. 

Her saliva becomes excessive, resulting in some dribbles down her chin that help her work her mouth on you. Wonyoung’s drool sheens you entirely and she keeps adding more. On the occasion she pushes her face into your stomach, your cock gets wetter. She does, too. 

“Fuck.” Cussing won’t help deter the onslaught of pleasure. You’re unsalvageable. Say it anyway. You babble meaningless, slurred words and not one gets to Wonyoung. All she can hear is the sound of your quivering moans and her mouth taking you all in.

She becomes less of an idol, less of the elegant princess for the cameras, and instead a fleshlight. However, she reminds you that it isn’t that way with a fierce sneer that stays on at all times. She’s not your girl—she’s Jang Wonyoung, and you’re already incredibly lucky that she chose to go down on you.

All that beautiful hair isn’t of any purpose if you don’t get to touch it, to gather it in a ponytail, to pull on it. Your fingers creep into her brown locks not only to give it a little meaning but also for sanity. 

That isn’t a thing in Wonyoung’s world. She pulls your hand off and slaps it on your side. “No,” she says with a shake of her head. “Daddy can’t touch me, not when he’s pretending that he’s hot shit.”

Her nails bury themselves in your hips. Oh, the manicured talons of a gorgeous monster. Oh, the pain that runs through your sides. Should you run before she devours you? Too late for that.

“Wonyoung,” you breathe, and then ask, genuinely: “What the hell is wrong with you?”

She’s so proper and serene on her shows that not even her most desperate fan would think she’s a terror. They don’t know she’s a girl who likes older, weaker men who’d ruin her if she hasn’t the pretty face and attractively black heart to do them the favor instead. 

“What’s wrong with you?” 

You’d respond if you knew the answer.

Wonyoung rubs her thumb under your dick, sending little sparks aflying. “Why’d you kiss me earlier?” Her lipstick decorates it as a kinder girl would to your face. “Why didn’t you grab my hair and tell me to be a good girl? Why didn’t you leave? It’s not my fault you want to fuck me.”

All these words of destruction and your cock remains standing. It’s a staunch reminder to her that you can say whatever you want and the hard evidence remains. You want to fuck Wonyoung. You want to do it to a rookie who’d turn the story around on you if it ever came out. You want to fuck her so bad it’s borderline pitiable.

“I’m just giving you what you want, daddy.” Her fingers caress your sides. “Trust me, I could be a very good girl if I wanted to.”

You almost didn’t believe that until Wonyoung started to suck you off again. 

Her lips stroke you effortlessly as if this were her pastime. That’s your most accurate guess, because this seamless performance—the one of her mouth working on you with the impression that this whole thing is nothing to her—can’t be a natural gift. The combination of dripping saliva and her soft lips is lethal.

It’s unbelievable how she manages to find all your tender spots. She preys on them, licking and licking until you’re very sure you were going to blow all over her. But you can’t give her that satisfaction. 

You’re very close to doing so though. She’s perfectly sloppy and rough. You glare at her when she lightly teases her teeth on your girth. She winks at you in response. She leaves you breathless in so many ways. 

“Wonyoung, Wonyoung, god—” you whine. It’s so hard to adapt to the girl sitting there with that innocent face and wild mouth that doesn’t dare give up on you. 

Her expressions on camera are always poised. Off camera, there’s this one she flashes you as she shoves her face into your stomach that looks downright evil. Although she’s already fucking you with her throat, Wonyoung partners it with strong suction that’s sure to drain you. 

“Yes, daddy?” She doesn’t pant when she goes up for air, replacing her sucking with her long fingers. 

“I’m really close,” you admit. It’s obvious from your shaking legs. 

Sounds of returned wet suction start to increase. Criticism and compliments prod Wonyoung on. How else would she improve in her idol life? In blowing you? In devouring you?

You realize you’re fitting the cliché. There’s you, an idol whose name is uttered on the daily by both young and old fans, igniting a scandal in the making by fucking a girl beneath you in everything. There’s this expensive suite where stars go for a little precious privacy to do what they want. There’s the two of you doing exactly what you desire: fucking each other. There’s the classic maneater trope with how it’s more like Wonyoung fucking you—she fucks you with her face, fucks you in the head, fucks with your righteousness. Well, fuck.

Wonyoung drools so much that you’re invited to a sea the moment your head pushes past her tongue again. It’s slicker, sloppier, and so much sexier because she’s so completely devoted to your cock. Her hypnotizing eyes trap you and so does her body, tight and tiny—that tummy is flatter than a board and only thin panties hide what her long legs lead to from the bottom.

The only time she stops sucking you is when she darts her tongue side to side with an unhinged pace on your sensitive tip. “Good. Cum in my throat.”

“Shit, god, I can’t—”

Wonyoung attacks you again, and there, in her warm orifice, your plentiful orgasm spends itself. Her throat welcomes you tightly every time. Her hot restricted breaths fan your groin and evokes more semen that spills with no care. 

Your hands ball into fists. Although you’re hot and shaking, you can’t touch her. Why are you following her rules when it should be the other way around? It’s a reversal of roles, a Stockholm’s Syndrome of some sorts whose victim is your cock never wanting to leave from the predatory embrace of Wonyoung’s puckered kiss.

Of course, after she gathers all of your cum in the pool of her mouth, she swallows.

She really could be a good girl.

“Awh.” Wonyoung pouts mockingly. “Daddy, are you crying?”

Touch your face. To your horror, she’s right. The electricity and shock of her continuous blowjob results in a few tears on your cheeks. You haven’t done that in years. Wonyoung is the first one to make you cry like this.

You flush. What more to hide your weakness than anger? “Wonyoung,” you start, then you realize you don’t know what to say, “I—you—”

She smiles. You aren’t going anywhere.

She shoves you to the bed. You’ve reached rock bottom in spite of the softness of the quality pillows. You’ll scrape your way out if not for Wonyoung finishing the job by keeping you there assisted by her legs. They close around you with not even a courtesy false promise of an escape. No negotiation, no coaxes. 

Wonyoung is sitting on your crotch but not on your dick, which is a problem. Which is a solution. Her hands are pinned to your chest while you try not to meet her eyes. It’s a losing game when your runaway glances are met by her grinding hips, silky thighs, and the hard, flexing abs of a perfection of a midriff. 

Her fingers tug on the waistband of her panties before slowly slipping them off. Her pink pussy clear of blemish or hair comes in contact with your length. Up and down she goes, her dancing hips always seeking for more friction. You understand their need because you share the same—Wonyoung’s splayed lips on your member feel heavenly. It’s kind of disappointing that she might as well have climbed her way out of hell.

If she did, she’s the prettiest little devil you’ve ever seen.

“Ohhh, don’t you get it?” Wonyoung asks. She moves so smoothly, you nearly forget she’s humping you rather than dancing. Her soft moan brings you back. It’s the first time you’ve heard it, and you’re melting; it sounds so seductive and innocent in the same breath.

You know her. She knows you. So it’s clear: Jang Wonyoung can be anything—supermodel, actress, dancer—but she cannot ever be innocent. 

Her gorgeous voice is silky when it twists into moans and gasps. Looking down at your crotches meeting and swaying is a better show than end-of-the-year performances. The blowjob and commanding you around must have turned her on by a lot—her flesh is hot and wanton with juices as it slides up and down you.

“You’re not going anywhere, daddy!” Wonyoung giggles. She kisses your nose, then your chest until her lipstick marks you. You burn up with feverish lust after each peck. “Daddy is only Wonyoung’s. And I knew your perfect cock would be mine when I posted those pics. I know men like daddy would do anything for me.”

“Wonyoung.” Breathe again, because you’ll need to after this, so why not do it now? “Why are you doing this?”

You thought her flirtatiousness in your office was just her coyness coming out to play. She’d rest her chin on your desk, suck a red lollipop on some days, maybe run her fingertips over your knuckles. Day in and out, she plays the same game. You didn’t know it would reach this level.

“Because I want to mess you up, daddy,” Wonyoung says. Her tongue swipes at the cavern of your mouth right until she nibbles at your lower lip. Her lipstick peppers your face. “I want to fuck my daddy up so bad he’ll never go a day without thinking of me.”

Swallow. The friction of your sexes is driving you crazy and close to the edge. All the same, you don’t want to make a fool of yourself cumming early for Wonyoung. 

What happened to your dynamics? Your relationship? There wasn’t a romantic one, but it was always you holding the reins professionally and her just being an insistent passenger. Now she’s wrapping that rein around your neck and claiming you for her own. Looks like you have control everywhere excluding the bed.

“That’s it?” you ask. Shut your eyes—just seeing her grind on you with her utterly wet cunt can make you bust. “Your career doesn’t matter to you?”

“I could say the same thing to you.” Wonyoung lifts herself up and flashes that wicked smile again. “But I want to feel this in me before you wimp out.”

You and Wonyoung fall down a bottomless hole of consequence and wrongs but Wonyoung makes sure to bottom out the first time she sits on your dick. She engulfs you whole and traps you there with her soaked, grippy walls that slide all the way down. 

You’d say her pussy has a vise grip, holding onto you like all goes wrong if it didn’t, except you think it has the grip of a vice. Need for her juices that coat you replaces the need for alcohol. Even if you get out of this suite alive, (which is a low possibility), you can see yourself always coming back for more. You could be addicted to anything—smoking, eating, cheating—but it just so happened your vice is Wonyoung.

“Daddy!” she yelps, and from there you can’t count the times she slams her cute butt down your thighs. “Oh my god, daddy!”

Her dainty, cute yells make you throb inside her. Perhaps it’s the kittenish quality of it that turns you on so much. She sounds so appealing, so fucking ruinable that it’s surprising to see that she’s doing the ruining here. Her expression in bed is more animated than the ones she makes onstage—her nearly closed eyes look upwards while her mouth falls open. 

The squeeze of her tight, wet cunt renders your knees weak. It’s a good thing you’re lying down. Wonyoung makes sure you stay that way by penetrating herself with you over and over again. Her being barely a weight on you doesn’t stop you from lying there uselessly. You know better by now not to challenge her, not when each time you enter her vagina is better than the last. Her pussy is slippery and tight, proving to be the smallest and the best fit for your shaft simultaneously. Her hole is too tight and too good. 

“Is this all for me, daddy? Huh?” Wonyoung circles her hips, making you moan, then continues her up-and-down movements. “You’re so hard, you naughty daddy. I know you got a b-boner when you looked at my posts. Now I’m giving you another one.”

You always thought of Wonyoung as justifiably confident yet arrogant. She told you once at your desk that she doesn’t deserve a stylist who only has a four-star rating. She lamented about the lack of competence of her staff preparing her comeback stage. All those you turned down to give the topics of her complaints the benefit of the doubt, but you know she’s right. She doesn’t deserve less when she’s better than the best. She doesn’t deserve less when she knows her place: a royal throne. So you can’t deny that she’s too hot to handle, undiscriminating to you whose connections always have impossibly beautiful women somewhere in there.

She’s so hot that her small breasts bouncing from behind that denim bra and tube top looks appealing. She’s so hot that the heat between her legs grows wetter. She’s so hot that when her soft ass crashes down on you again, you don’t find it a repetitive bore. 

She’s so hot that you’d let the slim, tall girl use you until dusk turns to dawn, even if the curtains behind her are drawn apart and the secret cameras get to snap a photo.

“Shit, Wonyoung,” you say, your core squeezing. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“I bet you’ve thought about this, daddy. You thought that one night, I’ll be so bad that you could book us a whole hotel and fuck me in all the rooms, just like this one. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yes, fuck yes.”

“You wanted to open my legs and use my little pussy all day long, huh? Until I’m yours to throw around and do whatever?”

“Y-yes.” Nod. Your face twists—she shouldn’t speak when she’s fucking you because all the filth she says makes you want to blow inside her already. It’s the kind of truth that arouses rather than hurts.

Wonyoung’s riding switches to a rapid intensity that makes you yell. She lets you in so deep to the point that her butt cheeks touch your heavy balls. She’ll drain them for sure; the pace she sets is terrifyingly quick. It seems that she becomes tighter after each bounce, and it’s not helping you hold out at all.

Watch the wildness in Wonyoung’s eyes become animalistic. It makes you all the more certain now of one solid fact: there is something seriously wrong with Jang Wonyoung.

She smirks. “Well, you got it wrong. I’m not all yours, daddy.” She leans down, resting her palms on your shoulders. “You are all mine.”

Her hands might as well be a chained collar waiting to close around your neck. Her devilish simper is supposed to scare you, not turn you on. Somehow, it does both. 

She flicks back her hair as she sits up again. Through it all, her riding doesn’t stop. “This cock?” she asks before slamming her pussy down it with a different kind of ferociousness. Cry out but she shuts you up with a furious kiss. “It’s gonna be my dirty secret. I’ll always go to daddy after my schedules so I can make him cum—over and over again.”

To think that a young girl like her has you at her beck and call is laughable, but there’s no laughing now. As you stare at Wonyoung’s fluid body and her hair bouncing beautifully, you realize she actually can have you for herself. It only took one Instagram post to lure you to her. She sees you’re falling deeper and deeper for her.

She didn’t exactly tell you how to escape.

“You gonna cum, daddy? Is my perfect pussy milking you?” 

You can do nothing except nod.

“Of course, I can feel you throbbing, i-it’s making me lose it,” gasps Wonyoung. Her whines are making you lose it yourself. “Let’s cum together, okay? You can only cum when you feel Wonyoung squirt all over your massive cock.”

She squeezes tighter on top of you when she reaches down to rub her clit. She’s in search of any kind of stimulation: the slap of her ass on your thighs, the upward shoves of your erection, the pulse of her clit. Her moans increase in their whiny girlishness. Their tender vulnerability makes you think she should be the one underneath your body though you’re aware that’s never going to happen. Wonyoung belongs on top, just the same with her name in first place in the list of brand reputation rankings, browser searches, followers.

Once upon a time, you took charge over her. You managed her lessons, her videos, her behind-the-scenes duties. Funny how it’s the opposite now, wherein she jounces on you freely with the domineering message of caution: don’t cum until she does.

And god, is she making that hard. Everything about her is so attractive, from the bounce of her hair to her midriff showing your entering cock to her pretty pink pussy clutching you. What gets you, however, is her face—everyone loves looking at that face. Today, you’re under an aphrodisiac for it: you’re in love with the roll of her eyes as she rides you, the pink on her cheeks, the part of her lips. 

“Fuck yes! Ugh, daddy, you feel so good inside me…” Wonyoung’s core clenches and slides your penis along its textured, sensitive walls. Her gasp is straight out of fantasies. “You’re balls deep, see? Look how your meat’s filling me. My pussy’s going to be so sore after this.” She chuckles. “Wait, who says we’re stopping?”

You shudder. You’re getting very close. Your earlier orgasm still has its effects on you. You’re afraid you’re going to do something you shouldn’t under her bedroom law. She’ll imprison you with her thighs and waterboard you with all the girl cum she promised until you confess that she’s the best fuck you ever had. 

“Daddy’s going to cum so hard he’s probably going to breed me. Then I’ll, oh, I’ll feel it inside my tummy and it’s going to be a scandal. Wouldn’t you like that? Getting to knock up Jang Wonyoung? I can hear you moaning. I think you really like that. I think that’s why you’re thrusting up in me. You want to be a real daddy and make your baby girl a mommy. That’s so fucked up, you know that, right? You shouldn’t be having sex with me, let alone breeding me. But you’re a fucking weak old man, so of course you like that.”

You’re burning up. They’re the signs of what’s to come. If her confident words inspire her young fans, her monologues of lust make you feel like you’re the worst person in the world. Of course, the boner is part of the effect. 

You groan. “Wonyoung, baby girl, please—”

“Oh god, daddy, I’m going to cum!” she squeals. Her emotions control her and tell her to go harder, bounce harder, squeeze harder. She’s pushing past her limits. “Agh, agh, you’re cumming, too, right? Cum for me. You’ll be—fuck, my daddy’s going to make me cum! I’m squirting all over his cock!”

She slams herself down roughly and repeatedly till your lower body’s flooded with her cum. You can’t take it anymore. It feels like dying because you swear you can see stars in the ceiling, stars of lust in her eyes. La petite mort. How poetic, since Wonyoung’s screaming still sounds as beautiful as her singing and speaking. 

Her shouts are close to breaking the windows’ glass. Anyone can figure out what’s happening without the destruction of the pane—the curtains are wide open, letting the world see the youngest icon of the new generation pumping herself onto her co-worker. 

You wonder if there’s actually poor watchers out there seeing you cream Wonyoung’s princess pussy, grab her ass to guide her, and kiss her when she leans down.

Wonyoung tastes the best when she’s squirting.

-

Consequences always catch up no matter what. You can hide under a cloak, in another country, underneath the earth in a secluded bunker and all that won’t help. You’ll be stuck dealing with the outcome, thorns from a rose you thought was too pretty to have some. 

That’s the first thing you remember when you wake up, wrapped in the bed sheets and by Wonyoung’s arms. Someone’s calling you. Bad news: it’s your boss—the ringtone itself sounds angry, too. 

“Hello?” you ask. You can’t help the grogginess of your morning voice, try as you may. If your boss didn’t know what happened, he can perfectly guess from the exhaustion riddling your greeting. 

“You dumb little shit.” You can feel the spittle of your boss’ insult from miles away, cities away, screens away. “You’re lucky I’m friends with the fucking CEO.”

“What happened?”

“Don’t give me that. Some janitor saw you from the wing. I needed to hear it from you: did you fuck Jang Wonyoung?”

Unexpectedly, a veiny hand you remember holding something else grabs your phone. Wonyoung leans against your shoulder wearing nothing as she holds the phone to her ear.

“Why?” she quips, loud and clear. “Wouldn’t you?”

#kpop smut #smut #kpop fanfic #fanfic #kpop fanfiction #fanfiction #izone smut #ive smut #jang wonyoung smut #wonyoung smut #izone wonyoung smut #ive wonyoung smut #male reader #x reader #reader insert #idol x reader #idol x male reader #female idol x reader #kpop x reader #kpop x male reader #pov smut #kofimission #commission #iz days of christmas #iz days of christmas day 12 #iz days of christmas 2023

[cb97breathing]

Pairing: Bang Chan x Afab! Reader

Theme: Fluff, smut, breeding kink, rough sex, creampie. 18+ NO MINORS.

Word Count: 3K

A/N: Please do not repost or translate my work!

“I’m going to throw up.” You whispered quietly to your best friend as you paced the spare room in a panic. Your best friend couldn’t help but look at you in amusement.

“No you’re not, love, the second you see him down that aisle your nerves are going to all fade away and you know it. We’ve all known you and Chan were meant to be since we were kids y/n. Don’t get cold feet now.” You stared at yourself in the mirror, taking in the wedding gown and nervously covered your stomach and sides with your arms. “Oh no, don’t you dare get those thoughts right now. Do you not see how stunning you look?” Your friend gently took your hand and pulled you from the mirror. “Chan is going to be on the floor when he sees you, everyone bet 100 bucks that he is gonna cry. The only one who didn’t think he would was Jisung.” You snorted at that. The door opened and you saw Hannah walk in.

Hannah’s eyes widened at the sight of you and for a moment she couldn’t help but stare in awe.

“Who knew that the little hermit who always hides in her room could look so pretty?” She teased softly as she came in. “I knew you were going to be panicking, I wanted to check on you.” She said softly. “Chan won’t stop pacing, he’s just as nervous.” You bit your lip and looked down. “Hey now, don’t you dare. I know what’s going on in that head of yours.” She said softly as she rubbed your back.

“Come on, it’s almost time. You can do this.” She said softly as she handed you your bouquet. You let out a shaky breath and nodded to her. She smiled and walked out to get ready. “Let’s go.” She lent out her arm to you. You gently linked your arm with hers and walked out with her, your best friend in toe. You saw the guys in suits talking and your friends all looking stunning in their dark plum dresses. They all stopped what they were doing when they saw you and stared in awe. Their staring only made you more nervous and Minho couldn’t help but chuckle at your reaction.

“Holy…” Jisung breathed out. “Can I back out of the bet? Cause Chan is definitely going to cry.” The rest of the guys laughed and shook their heads as you playfully glared at him with a small smile. “You look beautiful. He’s going to faint honestly.”

“He actually might. Not going to lie.” Felix added with a grin. “You look like a princess.”

“More like a goddess. Let’s be real.” Hyunjin added softly. “Where did that little tom boy who used to run around with us go?”

“Okay guys stop gawking and go to your seats!” Your mother teased as she approached you. “It’s time for y/n to make her entrance.” They all wished you luck before leaving and taking their seats. Your mom looked at you softly. “You look so beautiful honey.” She said softly. “I wish your father could see you. He’d be so proud and happy.” You tried to hold back your tears and smiled softly at her. “I’ll see you out there love.” She kissed your cheek gently before going out to where the others were. You slowly approached the doors, your heart pounded and your body trembled as you gripped your bouquet of white roses and lilac. As the doors slowly opened, revealing you to all the guests, your eyes immediately locked with a pair of warm chocolate brown ones that took your breath away all those years ago.

Time stopped as you and Chan stared at each other. This was real, it was finally happening, after all these years of dreaming of being his forever you were about to walk down the aisle and become his wife. You couldn’t help but stare at him adoringly as he looked at you in awe. You could see the tears forming in his eyes as his beautiful plump lips trembled at the sight of you. You yourself had to keep your composure at the sight of him, he looked stunning, like a prince out of a fairy tale. Your feet began to move on their own as the music started. Your heart guiding you to him as the rest of the world faded away, all you could see was him. Your best friend was right, the moment you saw him any fear you had was gone. Everyone around you was watching you both with giant smiles on their faces. The boys and your girlfriends tried their best to keep tears from falling down their cheeks as well.

You looked over and smiled at Chan’s parents who were also in tears before finally stopping right in front of Chan. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and cupping your cheek in his hand gently. Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned into his touch.

“So beautiful.” He whispered softly. “I love you.” Your heart fluttered at his words and you looked up at him softly.

“I love you, handsome.” You replied softly as you took his hand gently, letting him lead you to the officiant. The rest of the wedding was a blur, as you and Chan just stared at each other with nothing but pure love in each other’s eyes. Soon you exchanged your silver bands as you both exchanged your vows. Declaring your undying love for the world to see.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Chan didn’t waste time, he pulled you in until you were flush against him and kissed you so passionately your knees almost gave out. You could hear the guys cheering and whistling as everyone else cheered, but all you could focus on was him. He pulled away only slightly to press his forehead against yours, your noses brushing against each other gently.

“I love you Mrs. Bahng.” He whispered softly as he caressed your cheek. A breathtaking smile spread across his face as you kissed his nose. Tears flew down your cheeks as you giggled softly.

“I love you more, Mr. Bahng.”

The reception was lively thanks to your friends and the boys. They all had a blast while you and Chan were in your own little world. Pretty much ignoring everyone around you. Chan never let you leave his arms, afraid that if he does then he’d wake up and it’s all been a dream. His face buried in your neck as he held you tightly from behind, making you giggle as everyone cooed at the both of you. You were both ready to leave and just be alone.

Soon the reception was over and Chan was leading you to the huge suite they had reserved for you both for the night. When you entered it your eyes widened and you stopped in your tracks, there were dozens of white roses everywhere, and candles lit. It looked so beautiful. You looked around in awe as you felt Chan grab your hips gently. He pulled you close so you were against his chest and you couldn’t stop yourself from blushing.

“You’re finally all mine.” He whispered softly as he buried his face in your neck. “Mrs Bahng.” He kissed your neck and nipped at it softly. You trembled at the feeling as your eyes fluttered closed. “My beautiful wife.” Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. You turned to him and pulled him close, pressing your lips to his in a passionate kiss.

“I love you.” You whispered into his lips. He grinned and picked you up in his arms, making you squeal as he carried you to the bedroom. He set you down gently in front of the bed and looked at you softly.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered. “I love you more than anything in this world.” He caressed your cheek. You gently took the same hand and pressed your lips to it gently before leading it to the back of your gown. His fingers grazed the zipper as his eyes asked gently for permission. You replied by kissing him deeply. He melted into you and kissed back as he slowly unzipped your wedding gown. You felt it drop to the floor in one movement, leaving you in white laced lingerie. Chan pulled away to look at you and growled softly at the sight. “Fuck, y/n.” He whispered as his hands explored your body. You whimpered softly at the feeling of his hands gently gripping your thick hips and pulling you closer to him.

“I need you.” You breathed out. “Please.” His lips found yours again. This time the kiss was hungry and full of need. Your pushed off his blazer and began to unbutton his shirt quickly. Chan pulled it off once you were done. Soon you were the only one still partially clothed as he gently laid you down on the bed. Both of your hearts were beating erratically as you looked into each other's eyes. This wasn’t the first time you made love to each other. But now that you were finally married it made it feel even more special. You reached up and caressed his cheek gently as tears flew down your cheeks. “I love you so much.” He gently grabbed your hand and kissed your wrist before looking at you softly.

“I love you.” He whispered as his hands ran up your thick thighs. “Have loved you all my life and will love you til the end of it. Even after. In every life, I will find you and I will love you.” He leaned down and kissed you deeply. His words only electrified you and made you need him more. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he kissed down your neck, nipping and sucking at every area, not caring how many marks he left. You were his and the world knew. As he continued to mark you his hand reached for your lace corset and slowly pulled it down enough to free your breasts from it. “You were made just for me, and I you.” He whispered as he kissed across your chest. You let out a mewl as you felt his tongue swirl around your nipple.

“Channie.” You whimpered as you rocked your hips into him. His hand wandered between your legs and brushed against your wet clothed core. “Please, please please.” You cried softly. He grinned into your breast as he finally slipped his hands into your panties. His fingers rubbed your clit at a wild pace, wanting you to get loud. You moaned out and arched off the bed as he continued to nip and suck at your nipple.

“Be a good girl and let your husband show you how much he loves you.” He whispered into your skin as he kissed down your stomach. You mewled at Chan’s words like a cat in heat and your face flushed deeply. He pulled your panties off quickly and spread your legs wide. The sight before him, of you sprawled out, breasts on display, your eyes dazed, hair all messed up behind you, triggered something primal in him. He pumped his cock a few times before pressing his tip at your entrance. “Look at me.” He ordered softly. You quickly obeyed as your eyes locked with his. “Don’t ever stop looking into my eyes.” Your eyes widened and you let out a gasp as you felt him enter you. His size always made you shiver in the best of ways. He groaned out loudly as he bottomed out inside of you.

He laid flush against you, your bodies pressed together like two missing pieces of a puzzle. He pressed his lips to yours in a slow kiss as he began to roll into you. You gasped and whined into his mouth as you wrapped your legs around his waist. His fingers linked with yours, your silver bands glistened against the candle light as he nipped at your lips. He pulled away to look deep in your eyes, filled with so much love and wanting it made your heart skip a beat. You both continued to stare at each other, panting softly as he rolled deep into you, hitting spots that made your body shake. Your eyes rolled back as you felt him hit that special spot within you, which caused you to clench around him. He groaned and pressed his forehead against yours.

“I will never get over how you feel, you’re so perfect.” He whispered into your lips. “My beautiful, perfect wife.” He moaned and rocked harder into you, making you whine loudly. “That’s it beautiful, I want everyone to hear you. I want everyone to know you’re mine forever.”

“Y-Yours, all yours.” You whimpered out. “I love you, Channie. I l-love you so much.” You cried as you rolled your hips to meet his. He growled softly and his arms wrapped around your thighs pushing them as far up as they could go. You cried loudly as he hit deep within you, over and over and over again.

“Gonna fill you up love, gonna breed you.” He growled. “Want you to have my baby so bad. Wanted that for so long.” You flushed deeply and clenched at his words. “You want that don’t you? You want me to breed you nice and good?” You whined and nodded, not able to form words because all you could focus on was the feeling of his cock inside you. His thrusts became rougher and quicker, and you couldn’t stop the screams of ecstasy from leaving your lips.

“P-please.” You begged in a sob. He pressed his lips to yours in a hungry kiss as his cock moved in and out of you at a rapid pace. You were close, you could feel it as you trembled beneath him. He gripped your thighs tightly as you began to shake.

“That’s it my love, cum for me.” He moaned softly as he looked deep into your eyes. “Keep your eyes on me as you let go.” Your eyes never left his, as if he had complete control of your body. You screamed out as you felt yourself hit your peak. He watched you as you came apart beneath him and moaned loudly, his release hitting soon after. He spilled all his seed into you with a few rough thrusts before he laid flush against you. He buried his face in your neck as you gently ran your fingers through his hair.

Both of you stayed there, him still inside you, wanting to stay connected and not let any drop of cum go to waste. You pressed your lips to his forehead as you held him tight, whimpering softly as you came down from your high.

“I love you so much.” He panted out softly. “My everything.” You teared at his words and pulled him closer to you.

“I love you.” You both eventually fell asleep like that, completely entangled in each other, never wanting to let go.

In the morning you woke up with a gasp, feeling him hard and moving inside of you. His plump lips pressed against your neck. You whined as you clung to him, shuddering at the feeling.

"C-Channie." You cried softly as you felt his cock hit deep into you, your toes curled as you wrapped your legs around him. "O-oh my god." He smirked into your skin and nipped at the marks he left hours before.

"Couldn't help it." He whispered. "Not when I woke up to the most beautiful woman in the world." He kissed your neck and you clung to him. "Wanna make you cum so many times, wanna fill you with so much cum." You moaned loudly and rocked into him.

"Don't stop." You begged. "Fuck me over and over." He growled at your words and pulled out making you whine in despair. But he slammed back into you in seconds making you cry out.

"Gonna be my good girl, gonna take my cock." You mewled as he pounded into you and arched your back. "That's it beautiful, always so good for me."

"A-Always." You cried. "Fuck!" You were already close and shaking as he reached between to rub your clit wildly.

"Cum for me y/n." He growled out. "Let go on my cock." Your eyes rolled back as you came hard on him, but his thrusts never relented, his cock continued to reach deep and hit your spot over and over as he ravished you. Your whole body shook as you went limp beneath him. You became a sobbing and babbling mess for him. You could feel yourself getting close again and quickly. You cried out his name as he grinned. "That's it baby girl, give me another one." You opened your mouth to cry out, but nothing came, you were overwhelmed as your second orgasm hit you harder than the last. Your legs shook violently as you writhed beneath him. The sight making Chan lose all control. He buried his face in your neck and pounded relentlessly into you, whispering sweet words of love and praise to you as he completely ruined you.

"Give me one more, I know you can. One more beautiful." You sobbed out as he let one more thrust deep inside of you, sending you both over the edge. He held you tightly to him as he filled you up, spilling his hot white seed inside of you once more. He kissed your skin gently as he held your trembling body tightly to him. You whimpered and clung to him and whined as you felt him pull out of you.

"Good morning my love." He whispered softly.

"P-Please wake me up like that every day." You breathed out making him giggle into your skin.

"Oh don't worry Mrs. Bahng, I will." He pressed his lips to your forehead. "I'll show you everyday how much I love you for the rest of our lives."

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #bang chan fanfic #bang chan smut #seo changbin fanfic #seo changbin smut #han jisung fanfic #han jisung smut #kim seungmin fanfic #kim seungmin smut #lee know fanfic #lee know smut #lee felix fanfic #lee felix smut #yang jeongin fanfic #yang jeongin smut #skz fanfic #skz smut

[mvltisstuff]

going, going, gone - c.f

summary: y/n’s the only person who can get conrad, and he realizes that maybe he’s been falling for the wrong conklin.

conrad fisher x conklin!reader

gif from @conradfiisher

a/n: this will likely have a part two, so it probably won’t end here!! no promises as to when pt 2 is out but it will be there eventually ;)) this is literally me wishing i could slap some sense into belly

part two

“hey,” y/n greets, stepping into the beach house and finding conrad unpacking.

“hi,” he smiles lightly. the past few months have been nearly impossible. trying to crack conrad open is like trying to break into a safe. it took y/n forever to be able to understand conrad, and now that she finally did, there was an undeniable spark. she could sense the tension in his mind, knowing that something had set him off. he looked like he just wanted to break down, but he didn’t want to. if he did, he doesn’t know how to put himself back together.

“you ok?” she asks, cautiously. he’s almost like a wild animal, get too close and he runs away. especially since susannah died, he hasn’t been able to find a connection like the one he had with his mother.

“fine,” he mumbles, folding a few blankets onto the couch and placing some pillows beside it.

“conrad, don’t play this game with me again,” y/n sighs, stepping closer to him. he pauses in his movements to look up at her, slapping one last piece of decor on the mantle. “can we at least talk about the exam?”

“i, um,” he stutters, unable to find the right words that have disappeared in his mind. it’s like he completely pushed out the exam, all the other events had forcefully taken the excitement from it. “i feel really good about it, but it’s just an exam.”

y/n can tell in his slumped stance that something is truly disturbing him. he looks broken, and whoever did it certainly failed to put the pieces back together. it appears that they didn’t even try. “talk to me, conrad. please?”

he stops, breaking eye contact. he can’t look at her while he tells her because she can’t see his face when he says it. he doesn’t want y/n to see him crack under the pressure again.

“jeremiah and belly were making out on my car when i came out of testing. i walked out and there they were.”

“what?” y/n spits out, thinking about everything belly had told her before. “i thought she said she moved on-“

“yeah, i did, too,” his voice breaks, still avoiding any looks to y/n. if y/n sees him falling apart over belly, y/n would probably say something. the last thing conrad wants is for belly to know the affect this had on him.

“conrad, you know you can talk to me, right?” she steps closer, wanting to reach out her hand to him but knowing he probably doesn’t want it. he wants belly’s. “anything you say to me won’t get back to her.”

he slightly turns, finally letting his eyes wander up y/n’s body until they meet hers. he’s always found a trust in y/n. she’s been there since they were little kids, but it’s always felt different. there was an innocence to her, she felt like home and he could always run back to her if he needed her. he wouldn’t be able to handle it if he ruined that.

“i’m just so tired, y/n. it’s just one step forward and two steps back. i thought we could finally be over this, but they both just stabbed me in the back. on my car, during my test, in my hoodie. my mom always said belly was destined for me, but it just feels like jere took that.”

y/n can feel the hurt as well as see it on conrad’s face. she’s able to read him so well now that he’s not afraid to open up. she feels like they’ve gotten through a door, a point where they can share secrets and find a safety net in the other. “belly doesn’t deserve you, conrad. she’s not as mature as you, and you can thrive without her, i swear.”

“i’ll be ok, i just need a break from all this shit,” he groans, allowing y/n to finally walk up to him and hold his hand. “i don’t know if we can go back to the way things were after this.”

“i know i can’t change what happened, but i need you to understand that you’re not alone. at this point, you come first to me.” he nods, and y/n can see the sunrise in his face a bit more, but his mind is still covered with darkness. “if you need anything, please call me or come see me, ok?”

“deal,” he cracks a little grin, making y/n smile a bit in return.

“take care of yourself, connie,” she says before opening the front door. she starts the long drive home knowing what’s waiting for her there.

she plants her stuff down on the counter, letting her body relax after the hours behind the wheel. she starts to clean up some of the mess that she left on the counter when she hears squeaky footsteps come down the stairs.

“hey, you’re back already?” belly says, lurking into the kitchen to lean against the frame. y/n doesn’t say anything, she just looks at her and continues to organize everything. “what’s wrong, why do you look like that?”

“honestly, belly, i’m just trying to figure out what to say to you.”

“what do you mean?” belly asks, trying to think about why her older sister could have a reason to be mad at her.

“i stopped at cousins on the way home,” y/n informs her, belly knowing exactly where she left conrad.

“y/n, you can’t be pissed off because of what he told you-“

“no, belly, i have every right to be pissed. i’m pissed for conrad. you left him in the dust and you have no shame about it.”

“it just happened, jeremiah and i. i never wanted to hurt conrad, but im in love!”

“yeah, you were also in love last week with conrad. and the week before with jeremiah. you need to move on from them, bell,” y/n sighs, allowing belly some time to build another response.

“who are you to even say that?”

“because i’ve been there for both of them! i was there for jeremiah when you wanted conrad. i’m there for conrad because you are playing with their hearts like they’re toys. i can tell your hearts not fully in it with jeremiah, but i’m not gonna let you destroy those boys even more.”

“how am i destroying them?”

“belly, wipe that innocence off your face. you’ve managed to rip apart the fisher brothers because you cannot pick which one you like more.”

“but-“

“no, belly! listen to me,” y/n cuts her off before she can try and make anything better. “you couldn’t even contain yourself at susannah’s funeral because you were too worried about conrad. i know we are all grieving, but you are acting like you’re more worried about which brother likes you more. it’s exhausting having to clean up the mess you make over and over again. you’re slowly ruining this bond for me, for steven, for mom! you know i love you more than words, but if you keep playing with their feelings, belly, this family is going to be destroyed.”

“y/n, susannah told me-“

“use susannah as an excuse one more fucking time, belly.” the room goes deadly silent, y/n sick of the excuses and victimized mentality of belly. when steven comes stepping quietly into the room, he ganders softly into the chaotic mess that has formed between his sisters. she swipes her keys back off the table, grabbing an extra bag out of the closet. “i’ll be back.”

“where are you going?” belly says, eyes full of tears from her fear of confrontation. her voice was shaky, and y/n could still feel a sting of guilt in her chest. she hated to build a bigger wall between everyone, but belly had to hear it.

“i’m going to look after conrad, because you failed to do it,” y/n ends their conversation, slamming the front door behind her and moving to the car. she left the house with a terrible tone, but someone else needed her more. belly had jeremiah, taylor, steven, laurel, anyone she wanted. conrad had y/n, and that became enough for him.

#the summer i turned pretty #the summer i turned pretty fic #the summer i turned pretty s2 #tsitp jeremiah #tsitp conrad #tsitp taylor #tsitp fic #tsitp spoilers #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher angst #conrad fisher fluff #jeremiah fisher #steven conklin #laurel park #belly conklin #taylor jewel #susannah fisher #team jeremiah #team conrad #team cam #cam cameron

[pucksandpower]

Another Man’s Treasure

Max Verstappen x Reader + Charles Leclerc x ex!Reader

Summary: Charles made the worst mistake of his life when he threw away his relationship with you. Max … well he’s learned to take advantage of others’ mistakes both on and off the track

Warnings: cheating (not the main pairing) and pregnancy

“Please, Charles, why can’t we just talk about it?” you implore, the two of you standing on the balcony overlooking the glimmering lights of Monaco. The city shines brilliantly but your eyes are clouded with frustration and disappointment.

Charles exhales deeply, his jaw clenched as he avoids your gaze. The silver lining of the night —the glimmer of stars overhead — contrasts sharply with the tension between you two. “I told you already, it’s not the right time.

You take a shaky breath, trying to hold back tears. “Every time I bring up having children, you just push it away. Why can’t you see how much this means to me?”

Charles runs his fingers through his dark hair, exhaling slowly. “Look, it’s not that I don’t want to have a family with you someday,” he begins, his gaze distant. “But right now, with my career at its peak, I can’t risk distractions.”

“Distractions?” Your voice breaks, the hurt evident in your tone. “Our children would be a distraction?”

He flinches, clearly not expecting that response. “That’s not what I meant. I just … I need to focus on the championship. The pressure is immense. Racing is my life. Ferrari is my life.”

“I understand your dedication to your career, but ...” You pause, your gaze searching his. “Don’t you think we can find a balance? Am I not part of your life too?”

He looks at you, those hypnotizing eyes you’ve always loved flinching away from yours after no more than a second. “I wish I knew how,” he murmurs. “But every time I think of the late nights, the early mornings, the endless travels ... I’m afraid I won’t be there for our children.”

You reach out, holding his face in your hands. “We can figure it out together. But not if you keep shutting me out.”

Charles leans into your touch for a brief moment, his warmth radiating under your fingers. But then he pulls away, taking a deep breath. “I just need time,” he whispers.

“You always say that,” you reply, voice almost inaudible. The weight of the situation presses down on you both. The future, once so clear and bright, is now clouded in uncertainty.

But one thing is clear to you. You love Charles Leclerc. Despite the pain, the hurt, and the disagreements, you still believe that one day, you’ll both find common ground. So, you nod, taking his hand. “Alright, I’ll give you time. But please, don’t take too long.”

He looks at you with a mixture of gratitude and guilt. “Thank you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

But deep inside, a gnawing feeling of dread starts to grow, leaving you wondering if you’ve made the right choice.

***

The soft hum of the espresso machine at your favorite café in Monaco is the only thing that brings comfort these days. You take a deep breath, trying to enjoy the momentary solace as you sip on your coffee. But today, the calm is quickly disrupted by the muted buzz of your phone.

An unknown number flashes across the screen. Hesitating for only a moment, you decide to pick up. “Hello?”

A hesitant voice responds, “Is this ... is this you? I’ve seen you with Charles.”

Confused and on guard, you ask, “Who is this?”

The voice falters, “It’s Elise.”

You wrack your brain, trying to figure out who she might be. But before you can respond, Elise continues, “I think we need to meet. There’s something you should know.”

Agreeing to meet up, you find yourself waiting at the edge of the Fontvieille Park, the minutes feeling like hours as you try to decipher what could be so important.

Elise finally arrives, her demeanor nervous, eyes darting around. She’s visibly pregnant.

“I didn’t know how to tell you this,” she begins, looking down at her swollen belly, then up to your eyes, searching for understanding. “This is Charles’ child.”

The world seems to spin, the weight of her words pressing down on you. “What? How? Why?” The questions blur together, each one as painful as the last.

Elise sighs, taking a moment before she speaks, “We’ve been seeing each other for a while. I thought he loved me ... but then I found out about you.”

You’re at a loss for words, feeling a mix of betrayal, anger, and pain more complex than you can describe. The very foundation of your relationship with Charles feels like it’s crumbling beneath you. “He said he wasn’t ready for children,” you whisper, more to yourself than to Elise.

Elise looks genuinely pained. “I didn’t know. If I had, I would’ve never—” she stops herself, tears forming. “I’m so sorry. I thought you deserved to know the truth.”

The rest of the conversation is a blur. Elise shares her story, and you listen, trying to reconcile this new reality. The Charles she describes isn’t the man you thought you knew.

By the time you part ways, the Monaco sunset paints the sky in shades of gold and purple. But its beauty does little to lift the darkness that has settled over your heart. Charles had been unfaithful, and now a child — a constant reminder of his betrayal — was on the way.

***

With every step you take towards the apartment you share with Charles, your emotions churn and crash like tumultuous waves. You have practiced the confrontation in your mind countless times, yet as you reach the door, your hands tremble. Taking a moment to gather your courage, you push it open.

Inside, Charles looks up from the couch, surprised. “Hey, I wasn’t expecting you back so soon,” he starts, attempting a smile but his eyes give away a hint of nervousness. Perhaps he senses the storm brewing.

“We need to talk,” you say, your voice firm despite the turmoil inside.

Charles swallows hard, pushing himself up to stand. “About?”

“Elise,” you state simply, watching as his face pales.

He hesitates, and for a moment, you hope for an ounce of remorse, a hint of regret. But when he speaks, his words are cold and detached. “How did you find out?”

“Does it matter?” You shoot back, trying to hold back tears. “Is it true?”

Charles avoids your gaze, running a hand through his hair. “Yes,” he finally admits.

“And the baby? Is it yours?”

Again, he hesitates but then nods. “Yes.”

The weight of the revelation feels like a physical blow, and you stagger back slightly, gripping the back of a chair for support. “All those times … when you said you weren’t ready, that it wasn’t the right time …” Your voice cracks, pain and betrayal evident in every word.

Charles finally meets your gaze but there’s no warmth, no apology in his eyes. “I didn’t plan this,” he says but it’s not a justification, merely a statement.

“That’s supposed to make it better?” you scoff, voice rising in disbelief.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture you recognize as one of discomfort. “I never wanted to hurt you. But things just ... happened.”

“You think that justifies anything? Things just happened?” You shake your head in disbelief. “I gave up so much for us, Charles. I moved away from everything and everyone I knew to be with you. And you threw it all away like it’s nothing.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs but his apology feels hollow. His eyes betray the truth.

The room is thick with tension and heartbreak. The man you loved, the life you envisioned — both seem like illusions now. You didn’t even know if they were ever real.

“You know what?” You say, a new determination rising within. “I deserve better. I deserve someone who truly values and respects me.” With that, you turn, making your way to the bedroom to pack a few essentials.

Charles doesn’t stop you. And that, more than anything, cements the truth. Your future lies elsewhere. The chapter with Charles is closed.

***

Rain begins to drizzle over Monaco, each droplet reflecting the city’s luminescence. With a bag slung over your shoulder and a broken heart, you wander aimlessly. The streets that once felt like home now seem foreign and cold.

As the rain intensifies, you duck under an awning, the gentle hum of a nearby bar providing a temporary reprieve. You’re lost in thought when a familiar voice breaks through, “Is everything okay? You look a bit ... lost.”

You look up, surprised to find Max Verstappen looking genuinely concerned. His bright blue eyes study your face, searching for an answer.

“Max ...” Your voice trails off, unsure of how much to reveal.

He gestures to the bar beside you. “Want to come in? We can talk or not. Up to you.”

Gratefully, you nod, and the two of you find a quiet corner. The dim lighting offers a cocoon of privacy, away from prying eyes.

Over a glass of wine, words start to tumble out. The betrayal, the heartbreak, the uncertainty of the future. Max listens intently, his gaze never leaving yours. His silence offers a comforting presence, allowing you to unburden your heavy heart.

“I can’t believe Charles would do that to you,” Max says after you finish your story, his voice laced with anger. “You deserve so much better.”

A tear slips down your cheek. “I thought we had something special. But I guess I was just naive. And stupid. So stupid.”

Max reaches out, gently wiping away the tear with his thumb. “No. He was the fool for not seeing what a treasure he had.”

The evening wears on and you find solace in Max’s company. The conversation shifts from heartbreak to hopes and dreams. He opens up about his childhood, the pressures of racing, and his aspirations for a family — one where he could offer his children a better upbringing than he had.

The connection between you two grows, the raw vulnerability drawing you closer than you could have ever anticipated over just a few hours.

“It’s getting late,” Max observes, glancing at his watch. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?”

You hesitate, realizing you hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I ... I hadn’t planned anything.”

Max looks thoughtful for a moment then says, “I have a penthouse not far from here. You’re more than welcome to stay. No expectations, just a place to rest.”

Gratitude swells within you. “Thank you, Max. I really appreciate that.”

The two of you leave the bar together, the rain now a soft drizzle. As you make your way to his place, the weight of the day begins to lift, replaced by an unexpected feeling of hope. You couldn’t have predicted this turn of events but perhaps, just maybe, the universe has a plan for you.

***

The penthouse apartment is a sanctuary, perched high above the city’s twinkling lights. The soft glow of lamps bathes the room in warmth, contrasting with the coolness of the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that offer an unobstructed view of Monaco’s beauty.

Max hands you a plush robe and gestures toward the bathroom. “Feel free to freshen up. I’ll make us some tea.”

You nod, grateful for his understanding and hospitality. The hot shower washes away the day’s troubles, and when you emerge, wrapped in the robe, you find Max in the sleek kitchen area, preparing mugs of tea.

“Here you go,” he says, handing you a steaming cup. “Chamomile. Good for relaxation.”

You take a sip, the warm liquid soothing your frayed nerves. “Thank you, Max. For everything. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you tonight.”

He smiles gently, his eyes meeting yours. “Sometimes, unexpected moments bring people together for a reason.”

The two of you settle onto a surprisingly comfortable leather couch, gazing out at the night sky. Silence envelops you but it’s a comfortable one.

“You know, I never expected to connect with someone like this,” Max says, his voice soft. “Especially not after what you’ve been through.”

You look at him, seeing a depth of sincerity that surprises you. “It’s been a strange and difficult day,” you admit. “But talking to you, it feels like a weight has been lifted.”

Max’s gaze holds yours, and for a moment, it feels like the universe has conspired to bring you to this very place, to this very person.

He takes a deep breath. “I’ve always wanted a big family. A loving home, something I didn’t really have growing up. I want to give my kids the stability and happiness I never had.”

Tears well up in your eyes, touched by his vulnerability and his willingness to share his dreams with you. “That’s a beautiful aspiration.”

He shifts closer, a comforting hand on your shoulder. “And what about you? What do you dream of?”

You lean back, contemplating the question. “I dream of a family too, a partner who’s truly invested, children who grow up knowing they’re loved and supported.”

Max's fingers brush against yours, a gentle touch that sends a shiver down your spine. “You deserve that. You deserve to find happiness.”

As the night deepens, the emotional intimacy between you grows. There’s an unspoken understanding, a shared connection, and for the first time in a long while, you feel a glimmer of hope for the future. The chapter with Charles might be closed, but perhaps, with Max, you can start to write a new one — one filled with shared dreams and the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

***

The morning sun casts a golden glow over Monaco as it begins its ascent into the azure sky. You wake up, wrapped in the softest sheets you’ve ever felt, with memories of last night’s conversation playing on a loop in your mind.

Exiting the bedroom, you find Max in the open-plan kitchen, whipping up a breakfast spread. “Good morning,” he greets with a warm smile. “I hope you’re hungry.”

As you eat, Max discusses his plans for the day, mentioning an upcoming summer break in the F1 calendar. “A few friends and I have organized a yacht trip during the summer shutdown. It’s a tradition,” he explains. “A way to escape and recharge.”

You nod, picturing the glittering sea and warm beaches. “That sounds wonderful.”

He hesitates for a moment, then, as if taking a leap, says, “Why don’t you join us? It could be a good distraction. Get away from all this ... chaos.”

The offer catches you by surprise. The prospect of a holiday is tempting, especially after the emotional whirlwind of the past few days. Plus, the idea of spending more time with Max, getting to know him outside the confines of Monaco, is equally appealing.

After a moment’s contemplation, you reply, “You know what? I think I will. Thank you so much.”

The days leading up to the trip are a blur, filled with shopping for swimsuits and sundresses and a growing sense of anticipation.

When the day finally arrives, you find yourself aboard a lavish yacht, surrounded by Max’s close friends. Laughter and conversations flow easily, the crystal-clear waters providing the perfect backdrop.

As the yacht sets sail, you and Max find a secluded spot on the deck. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. The two of you talk, laugh, and occasionally, just sit in silence, enjoying the tranquillity of the moment.

During a sun-soaked afternoon, Max teaches you how to steer the yacht. Your fingers brush against each other, and there are shared glances, stolen moments, and an electric charge between you that’s impossible to ignore.

Each day deepens the growing bond between you. There are sunrises watched from the deck, dinners under the stars, and long conversations that last into the early hours of the morning.

One night, as the yacht anchors near a secluded cove, Max takes your hand, leading you to a quiet spot. The moonlight dances on the water, creating a magical atmosphere.

“You know,” he begins, his voice soft, “this trip has been special. Not because of the destinations but because of the company.”

You smile, leaning into him. “I couldn’t agree more.”

A tender moment passes between you, one filled with promise and the potential for something more. The yacht trip might be coming to an end but both of you sense that this journey, this new chapter in your lives, has only just begun.

***

The gentle lull of the waves against the yacht rocks you as the moon hangs low in the sky. The night air is warm and fragrant, carrying with it a sense of peace. Tomorrow, the yacht will dock back in Monaco and reality will catch up with you once more. But for now, you’re content to savor these final moments of the trip.

You find Max leaning against the railing, gazing out at the sea. As you approach him, he turns, his expression softening into a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you reply, standing beside him, your shoulders brushing against each other.

“I can’t believe the break is almost over,” Max muses, his voice carrying a hint of wistfulness.

You nod in agreement, casting your gaze out to the horizon. “It still feels like a dream.”

Max glances at you, his eyes holding a certain intensity. “You know, I’ve had an amazing time with you.”

A flutter of warmth ignites in your chest at his words. “Me too. The best time.”

The moment is charged with unspoken feelings, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing day. Max’s fingers brush against yours and the touch sends a shiver down your spine.

“I don’t want this to end,” he confesses, gaze never leaving yours.

You take a deep breath, your heart racing. “I’ve never felt so connected to someone, so understood.”

He cups your cheek with his hand, his touch tender and affectionate. “I feel the same way. And I don’t want this to end.”

The tension in the air is palpable, heavy with anticipation and longing. And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, your lips meet in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s a kiss filled with all the emotions that have been building between you, a kiss that bridges the gap between friendship and something more.

As the kiss deepens, Max’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you under the moonlit sky.

When you finally pull apart, your foreheads rest against each other, your breaths mingling. Max’s voice is a gentle murmur against your lips. “I don’t want to rush anything. But I also don’t want to pretend that this connection we have isn’t real.”

You meet his gaze, your eyes reflecting the same sincerity. “I don’t want to pretend either. Max, I want to give this — give us — a chance.”

A genuine smile graces Max’s lips and he kisses your forehead in reassurance. “Then let’s take it one step at a time.”

***

“Where to now?” Max asks, his hand lightly touching your arm as the yacht crew busies themselves with docking procedures.

You hesitate, the reality of your situation setting in. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I … I moved here from my home country to be with Charles.”

Max looks concerned. “You can’t stay with him, not after everything.”

“No, definitely not.” You exhale deeply, feeling the weight of the situation. “I’ll figure something out. Maybe find a hotel for a few days.”

Before you can say more, Max interjects, “Stay with me.”

You look at him, a bit taken aback. “Are you sure? We’re still navigating whatever this is between us.”

He nods, his gaze steady and sincere. “I know. But I also know you shouldn’t be alone right now. You can take the guest room or,” he pauses, a hint of mischief in his eyes, “the master bedroom, if you prefer.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks at his teasing tone but his offer feels genuine. “Alright but only if you promise not to snore.”

Max chuckles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as the two of you head off the yacht. “Deal.”

The familiarity of Max’s penthouse greets you as you step inside. It's comforting and safe, an oasis to escape the shattered memories that line the Monaco streets.

While you unpack, Max makes dinner. The two of you eat in comfortable silence, the city lights casting a soft glow through the apartment.

“Thank you for this,” you say, gesturing around the dining room, the food, the moment. “It’s more than I could’ve ever asked for.”

Max meets your gaze, his blue eyes reflecting warmth and understanding. “You’re not alone in this. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.”

The night unfolds, a sense of peace settling between you. Whether it's the soft hum of the city below or the comforting presence of Max beside you, you drift into a deep, restful sleep.

Waking up the next morning, the events of the past weeks feel like a distant memory. But the man beside you, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist, is a calming reminder of new beginnings.

With Max by your side, you feel ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead, knowing that no matter what, you’re not alone.

***

“Are you ready for the madness?” Max asks, offering you a hand as you step out of the car, the roar of the crowd at Zandvoort Circuit immediately evident.

Taking a deep breath, you nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The two of you walk hand-in-hand towards the paddock, drawing attention from fans, crew, and media alike. Whispers spread like wildfire but neither of you flinch. Together, you are a united front.

Suddenly, Charles appears from around the corner, his gaze immediately locking onto yours. “So this is the big reveal?” he asks, dripping with condensing sarcasm.

Max steps protectively in front of you. “It’s none of your business anymore.”

Charles scoffs, his eyes darting to the Red Bull VIP pass around your neck. “Jumping ship already? You always were fickle.”

Ignoring the jab, you retort, “You lost any right to an opinion about my life the second you threw away our relationship.”

Charles’ eyes flare with anger. “And you,” he snaps, turning his attention to the reigning world champion, “you think you can just swoop in—”

Max cuts him off sharply, “I think you’ve said enough.”

“You two deserve each other,” Charles hisses before storming off.

Max wraps an arm around you, his touch reassuring. “Ignore him. Today is about the race, about us. Nothing else.”

You nod, taking a deep breath. “Thank you.”

The race itself is thrilling. From Red Bull garage, you watch as Max masterfully maneuvers his car, leading the pack with unparalleled skill. Every turn, every overtake steals your breath. And when he crosses the finish line, the roar of the crowd painting the grandstands orange is deafening.

As Max emerges from his car, he’s immediately surrounded by his team, celebrating yet another victory. And then, spotting you in the crowd, he breaks away, making a beeline towards you. Without a word, he pulls you into his arms, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss.

The world fades away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment. As you pull apart, Max’s eyes shine with triumph and love. “For you,” he murmurs, holding up the trophy.

Laughing, you pull him close once more. The challenges and confrontations of the day pale in comparison to the joy of this moment. Together, you and Max are unstoppable. And as you celebrate his victory, you know that this is just the beginning of many more triumphant moments to come.

***

The familiar sounds of roaring engines, the scent of burning rubber, and the vibrant energy of the paddock have been a part of your life for years. But being around the Red Bull team feels like a different world compared to your previous experiences with Ferrari.

Christian Horner welcomes you with open arms. “It’s great to have you on board,” he says during a quiet moment in the Red Bull motorhome. “Max seems happier than he’s been in a long time.”

You smile, thinking of the nights spent laughing with Max, the whispered conversations, and reflected dreams. “I’m grateful to be here. And to be with Max.”

Helmut Marko, although initially intimidating with his sharp gaze, soon warms up to you. “Just take care of our champ,” he jokes one evening after another successful race.

As the weeks pass, the bond between you and the Red Bull team strengthens. Daniel Ricciardo becomes a close friend, often joining you and Max for dinner or movie nights. Sergio Perez, with his playful humor, keeps everyone laughing, while the mechanics and engineers teach you the deeper intricacies of the sport.

Yet, it’s not all smooth sailing. The media, always hungry for a story, constantly probes into your relationship with Max. Rumors swirl, some true, most fabricated. Yet, through it all, Max remains your anchor, always supporting and defending you.

One evening, as the two of you relax in his suite after a grueling race weekend, Max turns to you, his eyes serious. “I know this world can be intense, the scrutiny constant. But I hope you know that you’re not alone in this.”

You nod, feeling a swell of emotion. “Being with you, being part of this team, it’s incredible. Like finding a family I never knew I needed.”

Max smiles, pulling you close. “That’s because you are family. And I promise, no matter what, we’ll face everyone and everything together.”

The season progresses, and as Max inches closer to clinching the championship title once again, the excitement within the Red Bull team reaches a fever pitch. Through every high and low, every victory and setback, you stand beside Max, cheering him on.

***

“Easy there!” Christian says, catching you just as the world starts to spin and your vision blurs.

The sound of concerned voices surrounds you as you struggle to stay conscious but it’s too much. Everything goes black.

When you come to, you’re lying on a couch in Red Bull hospitality, Max’s anxious face hovering above yours. “Hey,” he murmurs, relief evident in his voice. “You scared me there.”

“What ... what happened?” you ask, your voice weak.

“You fainted,” Daniel chimes in from nearby. “We’re getting a doctor to check on you.”

True to his word, a doctor soon arrives, performing a series of tests and asking various questions. He recommends a more thorough examination and you find yourself being whisked away to a nearby clinic.

As you await the results, Max holds your hand, his thumb gently stroking your skin. “I’m right here,” he assures you. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together.”

The doctor returns, a knowing smile on his face. “Congratulations,” he says, looking at both of you. “You’re going to be parents.”

The room goes silent, the weight of the revelation sinking in. You turn to Max, searching his face for a reaction. “I’m sorry. I ... I didn’t expect this. It’s so soon.”

Max pulls you close, his eyes glassy with tears of joy. “Life has a funny way of surprising us,” he murmurs. “But I know one thing for sure. I can’t imagine having a family with anyone else.”

Your emotions swirl, a mix of surprise, joy, and fear. “Are you sure? What about your career? The media?”

Max silences you with a gentle kiss. “None of that matters. The only thing I care about is us. Our family.”

Tears roll down your cheeks, touched by his words. “I love you,” you whisper, heart full to overflowing.

Max grins, his blue eyes shining. “And I love you. This might be unexpected but it’s the best surprise of my life.”

***

“Three-time World Champion! How does that feel?” A journalist thrusts a microphone towards Max moments after his astounding win in Qatar.

“It’s surreal,” Max responds, his gaze seeking you out among the crowd. “Every championship is special but this one ... it’s different.”

The winter months are a haven of privacy for the two of you in your own little bubble. As the world speculates about the upcoming racing season, you and Max nest away from prying eyes, savoring the anticipation of your growing family.

However, when the 2024 season kicks off, it’s impossible to hide your baby bump any longer. Whispers ripple through the crowd as you walk through the paddock with Max for the first day of preseason testing.

“It’s so obvious now!”

“They look so happy together.”

“She’s glowing.”

But one voice rises above the rest from the sea of murmurs, filled with venom. “So this is your grand plan? Trap Max by getting pregnant?”

You turn to find Charles, his face contorted with anger. You take a deep breath, preparing to face the storm. “Charles, this really isn’t the place—”

Max steps forward, partially blocking you from Charles’ view, his voice colder than ice. “What do you want?”

Charles scoffs, looking you up and down with disdain. “Just wanted to see the spectacle for myself. You always did know how to play the game.”

Max’s eyes flash with anger, his posture tense. “Let me make this clear. You don’t get to disrespect Y/N or our relationship. You lost that right a long time ago.”

“You think this will make him stay with you?” Charles sneers towards you. “That he won’t get tired of you just like he did with all the others?”

Before you can respond, Daniel steps in, his presence commanding and the joking smile that usually graces his face nowhere to be found. “Enough. Show some respect.”

Christian, overhearing the commotion, joins the fray. “Is there a problem here?” he asks, voice firm.

Charles hesitates, glancing around at the united front against him. “No,” he finally mutters, turning on his heel and walking away.

Max’s grip on your hand tightens, his expression stormy. “You know you’re never alone in this, right?” he asks.

You nod, your voice soft but resolute. “I do. And I know you’ll always have my back. Just like I’ll always have yours.”

He squeezes your hand. “Always. Nothing and no one can ever come between us. Our family is the most important thing in my life.”

***

The soft hum of chatter surrounds the preschool’s main entrance. Parents eagerly await their children, discussing the excitement of the first day. You stand beside Max, his hand resting protectively on your protruding belly.

“Look, Mama!” A little voice exclaims and two giggling children rush towards you — your daughter, Sophie, and a boy with familiar dark hair.

Before you can respond, another voice joins the fray. “Henri! Over here!”

You turn, finding Charles standing there, Elise by his side, her arm entwined with his. Their eyes meet yours, a mixture of surprise and recognition.

Sophie hugs her little friend, Henri. “This is my new best friend!”

Max bends down, ruffling Sophie’s hair. “That’s great, liefje.” He then stands and addresses Charles, his tone neutral, “Seems our children have taken a liking to each other.”

Charles nods, attempting a smile. “It appears so.”

There’s an awkward silence, the past hanging heavily between you all.

Finally, Elise speaks, her voice quivering, “I’m sorry ... for everything. I never expected things to turn out like this.”

You meet her gaze, seeing genuine remorse. “Life is full of surprises. But it led me to Max and he is the best thing that’s ever been mine.”

Max adds, “What’s important is that we’re all here for our kids. Let’s not make our past their burden.”

Charles sighs, rubbing his temples. “You’re right. I regret many things but right now, Henri is my world and I want the best for him.”

You place a hand on your belly, feeling the tiny kicks. “Our children have a chance at a fresh start, a friendship untainted by the history of their parents. Let’s not stand in their way.”

The two children, oblivious to the emotional weight of the moment, tug at your arms. “Can we go to the park? Pretty please.” Sophie asks, her eyes shining with excitement.

You smile down at her, “Of course.”

As your two families part ways, there’s a sense of closure. The past, with its pain and betrayal, has been acknowledged, but the future, the innocent laughter of your children, holds promise. Life has moved on, leading each of you down different paths, but in this moment, there’s newfound unity in the shared hope for a brighter tomorrow.

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #max verstappen #mv1 #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen blurb #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 x female reader #max verstappen x female reader #max verstappen x y/n #red bull f1 #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen drabble

[notafunkiller]

we found wonderland

Summary: You have a choice to make: you either set yourself free or continue to play the game.

Pairing: (fake) boyfriend’s brother!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: 18+, age gap (r is 26, Bucky is 39), teasing, dirty talk, unprotected séx (but she is on the pill), pet names, daddy kínk, language, implied aftercare, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 2.4K

story masterlist

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this mini-series! Thank you for reading!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

You had decided you should wait for a week before making your relationship public, using that time to try to convince your parents to change their mind while Bucky plays pretend with his. It’s not an ideal situation, but he understands, keeping the truth to himself.

What he can’t keep to himself is his hands. Not that you can… but as soon as he comes home, he’s all over you, not even caring you are in the living room sometimes.

Acting like you’re just friendly is very hard for you. You want to touch and kiss him like crazy. Having sex with him changed the game, and now you try your hardest to find a way out of this deal so you can be in this relationship completely.

You laugh at the way he pouts. “You’re really adorable for an old man.”

“Is it so crazy I want us together?”

You melt, leaning in to kiss his chin. “That’s not crazy, baby, but isn’t that a little fast?”

“We’ve been living together for months now. What’s the difference?”

You wish you could find the right words to explain it. It’s quite scary and exciting, but it feels strange. “We’ve been together for a couple of days. Maybe we don’t…”

“Are you thinking of a break up already?”

You jump immediately. “No! Maybe we don’t have things figured out enough yet. And by we I mean me. I won’t have a job anymore if my parents don’t change their minds. I won’t have a real home. I won’t have anything but you. And I love every moment I spend with you, but I want something of my own, and I definitely don’t want to feel like a burden even if you don’t make me feel like that. My life is a mess.”

“And I want to help. I am not trying to control you or suggest something you don’t want, but we are friends, too, not just a couple. I am here for you. You can stay with me as a friend if not as a boyfriend. I want you safe.”

You say nothing, only staring at him for a while. You don’t even know what to say because the mix of emotions you feel is confusing.

“You know what I want?”

“What?”

“I want to fuck you right now.” You don’t try to hide your neediness as you place your hands on his shorts. “Can I, baby? Can I ride you?”

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me before I turn forty. Is this your plan? Do you want me gone?” He’s already raising his ass so he can help you take off his shorts quicker.

“I want you with me always. Want you inside me so badly.”

He groans at your tone. “Then go for it, baby, take whatever you want. It’s all yours. I’m all yours.”

You smile eagerly seeing his hard cock, and lift his T-shirt. You cannot stand anything between your bodies right now. You just need to feel him. “God, we should go to the bedroom, but I can’t wait.”

You take off your underwear, unable to wait any longer. As if someone is holding a knife to your throat, and if you don’t get Bucky inside you in the next seconds, you’re gonna die.

“Anyone can walk in,” he says as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. He probably even enjoys it. “Can you imagine their faces?”

You snort, bringing his dick to your entrance without hesitation after spreading your legs further apart. “No, but I can imagine yours when you come.”

“You don’t need to imagine. You’re gonna see it up close if you hurry up.”

Neither of you even realize you’re not using a condom for the first time until it’s too late and you’re already sliding down.

Your grasp on his shoulders is so forceful, you’re sure it will leave a mark, as you moan his name.

“James…” You desperately look at him, wanting to see if he feels the same. “We’re not using anything.”

“I c-can feel that.”

“God damn it, James,” you sound like you’re scolding him, but in reality you are just overwhelmed.

“What did I… fucking hell, I am totally not getting to turn forty. I will die tonight.”

You ask with your eyes closed. “Do you want me to get a condom?”

“No, I want to die.” He groans, already in a different space. “Unless you want to… I am clean and you are, of course, and I can pull out, but like it’s not… I can go grab a condom right now.”

You immediately shake your head, placing your hand on his chest. He’s not gonna do that. He has to make you come.

“You are not going anywhere, you get out of me and I’ll die!”

“So you’re ovulating?” He asks casually, with a playful grin spread across his face.

You chuckle, hitting him in the shoulder. 

“Yes, I am, and you gotta take care of me.”

Bucky groans, grabbing your ass, unable to keep his hands off you. You’re so hot and warm. “You’re really, really wet, princess.”

“Ihm.” You slide down further, almost taking all of his cock. “Look how deep I took you now.” You moan proudly, feeeling so stretched like this. “Look at this, daddy.”

And when he lets his eyes drop to your entrance, he has no idea how he doesn’t com right then. The sight is incredible.

“Baby…”

“I’m your baby, daddy.” You quickly take off your T-shirt at the same time you move your hips. As soon as he’s naked, you grab your breasts, holding them together with a smirk. You know that is going to affect him, and it makes you feel powerful.

“Oh God,” he groans as you bring your breasts closer to his mouth.

“Come on, daddy, go ahead.”

It’s all he needs to hear before he takes your right nipple into his mouth and the left one between his fingers. Riding him like this is a little difficult, but it’s not impossible. You love getting your breasts played with, and he loves doing it.

There is also something really hot and thrilling about the possibility of getting caught. You have no idea why and how, but you’re going to enjoy this as much as you can.

“You feel so good like this, nothing between us. Nothing between your come and me,” you moan, not even thinking about what you say.

“You can’t say that and expect me to be strong.”

That makes you laugh. “I’m on the pill, though, you don’t have to be strong.”

“Fucking hell, you’re gonna drive me crazy.” He starts to thrust his hips back so he can meet you halfway. Riding him feels so, so good. You got him deeper, and the lack of a condom makes you properly feel his thickness.

“You feel so… Fuck, your cock is filling me just the way I need it.” You grab his shoulders so you can move faster. “You’re such a good daddy, let-letting me use you right here, where everyone could see us.”

“You love using daddy’s cock.” He looks so drunk, in so much pleasure. “Such a naughty girl.”

“I’m your naughty girl, James.”

“All mine.” His hands on your hips help you move faster indeed, and you’re already so close you can barely keep your eyes open.

“F-faster.”

Bucky stops thrusting his hips back, and you groan. You need more.

“If you want it faster, keep your eyes on me, pretty girl.”

“I c-can’t-” As much as you want to fight this, your eyes instinctively close again. “Ss-so close.”

He can hear your desperation and without hesitating, he brings his hand into your hair and pulls unexpectedly hard. That’s enough for you to come loud. So loud you can hear yourself as you let the pleasure consume every bit of you.

But Bucky doesn’t stop moving his hips, making your orgasm last longer. He’s saying things, probably dirty things, in your ear, but you can’t understand anything. Your ears are still ringing.

And just like that, Bucky comes too, with his right hand still wrapped around your hair while the left one is digging into the skin of your hip.

“Fuck, I’m coming inside you, baby, can you feel it? Can you feel me filling your pussy, baby?”

“Ihm,” you can barely whisper, too overwhelmed by everything.

“Whose come?”

“Y-yours.”

“Good girl.” He groans as soon as he finishes coming, wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you. “This feels like heaven.”

“I don’t think I can go back to wearing a condom now. I mean if you want to…”

“Are you sure? We can still use one just to make sure we are safer.”

You peck him. “We can still use it, don’t worry, I get it. Looking out for me and stuff.”

He lets out a deep breath, thankful you understand what he means.

“Of course I am looking out for you, that’s my job.”

“Job? You are my daddy, not my mom or dad.”

“I am your partner and your friend. I will always look out for you.”

A sudden urge to fuck him again takes over your body, but before you can do it, your phone starts ringing.

Bucky gives you the phone without moving, and when you both see it’s his brother, you groan.

“Hi, William.” You try to sound as normal as possible, but your voice is so raspy it’s impossible.

“Hey, gonna be home in a few minutes. Are you okay? Is Bucky home yet?”

“Ihm, he came.” You wink at James. “All good here. See you.”

You don’t wait for him to answer before you’re hanging up.

“You came too.”

You giggle immediately. It’s hard not to be around Bucky; he is goofy at the right time. “We need to clean up, though, he’s close.”

“Alright.”

*

Your parents didn’t want to listen to you at all. You didn’t have the chance to talk at the party since they’re avoiding you at all costs, and you had to go outside not to cry in front of everyone. You don’t just feel alone and treated like shit, you feel humiliated.

You’re lucky Bucky went to pick up William because his car broke down halfway here, so he didn’t actually witness your breakdown. You know he’d have done something about it. Something you should.

At this point, what do you really have?

“Hey, are you well? Why are you outside, it’s freezing?”

Bucky’s voice makes you jump as he’s suddenly by your side, rubbing your arms. William is right behind him.

“Baby, why are you outside?”

You see Bucky rolling his eyes, and you sigh.

“I wanted some fresh air, William.” You turn toward Bucky before taking a step back. You don’t want him to think you reject his touch. You really need his hug, but it’s not about what you need. “We should go inside.”

He nods, and all three of you make your way close to the improvised stage in the main room.

It’s crazy how many people actually came; it almost feels suffocating.

Your parents have been talking for a while, you assume, because people were animated. You wonder what they promised them.

“And since we’re all here now, I have something to announce,” Bucky’s dad takes the microphone all of a sudden, and William sighs. You want to ask him what is going on since he looks nervous, but you don’t have time to. “I want to invite my son, William, on the stage with us.”

And then he calls your name.

You look at both of your parents, trying to understand why you’d be needed there, and Bucky is just as confused as you are. Everyone starts clapping, and you find yourself dragged on the stage before you can protest.

“Tonight marks a very special moment for us both: professionally and personally.” You freeze, looking at Bucky instantly, but he’s also shocked, shaking his head. “A partnership that will last for a long time, hopefully, passed to a real-life partnership that has developed over the last months.”

William smiles proudly when his dad pats him on the back, and you want to throw up right then.

You turn your head to your parents, who display the fakest smiles you’ve ever seen. They don’t care about what you want. About what you need. Either way, you’re alone, and you cannot continue to play their game. You can’t!

And before anyone can stop you, you’re basically running down the stairs, straight toward Bucky. You quickly wrap your hand around his neck and force him to lean in so you can properly kiss him. You sense his surprise, but you don’t stop, using the opportunity to shamelessly kiss him in front of the whole company, including your parents. He’s yours, and everyone should know it.

He cups your face when you break off the kiss to breathe, and you smile.

You finally did it! You’re free.

You don’t need to turn around to know how upset your families must be. Everyone around you is either gasping or whispering around. You know they’ll be talking about this for a solid week at least, but you’re not gonna be there to hear. You won’t explain anything to them, and they can consider you a cheater who fucked the other brother all they want. It is not your mess to fix. You just want to leave.

“Let’s get out of here,” you whisper, taking his hand. All you want is to eat something and suck him off. “I need to pack my stuff.”

“Are you sure?” He asks concerned as you start to walk toward the exit. Neither of you turns when William calls your names.

“I have never been more sure in my entire life.”

He says nothing as you reach his car, lifting the hand he’s been holding closer to his lips so he can brush a tender kiss against the back of it.

You’re going to be okay.

Tags:

@charmedbysarge @identity2212 @vicmc624  @cjand10  @mayusenpai666  @abitofblues @doveromanoff @buckyb-stan @igotmajordaddyissues

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #boyfriend's brother!bucky #boyfriend's brother!bucky barnes #forbidden #fake dating #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #sebastian stan #my fanfics #my stories #marvel fanfics #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n

[wannabeschyulersister]

flash me (rooster x reader)

*based on the episode of new girl where Jess walks in on Nick*

“I have to move out.”

Natasha set her drink back on the table, “Did Bradshaw finally drive you crazy? I told you having him as a roommate would eventually make you want to pull your hair out. Is he leaving the toilet seat up all of the time?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Is he having too many “special” guests over?”

You shook your head, “Nope.”

“Then what happened?”

You looked around to see if any of the squad members were close enough to hear your conversation.

“Uh, I walked in on him.” You whispered.

Natasha leaned close, “What did you say? I can barely hear you.”

“I walked in on him in the bathroom.” You quickly said.

Your best friend looked a little confused, “Was he on the toilet?”

“I walked in on him naked!”

Natasha froze and the started laughing as if you said the funniest joke she’d ever heard. It annoyed you but you knew if situations were reversed you’d be laughing your ass off too.

Just then, Jake sidled up to you as if appearing out of nowhere, “I heard the word “naked” and Phoenix laughed so hard she has tears coming out. I have to get in on this conversation.”

“(Y/n) walked in on Bradshaw naked.” Natasha blurted out as she wiped away her tears.

You tried to pinch her but she moved out of your grasp, “I wasn’t trying to tell the whole damn bar!”

“I won’t say anything, sweets.” Jake promised, “Now, what did you see? A little backside? Full frontal?”

You looked down at your hands, “Uh both?”

“You poor lady. Seeing Bradshaw naked can be absolutely traumatic for anybody.” Jake joked.

You rolled your eyes, “I’m not traumatized! I just can’t look him in the eyes anymore which makes our living situation awkward.”

“How did he react?”

“He tried to cover himself as much as he could but it was too late. This is why I always scold him to lock the damn bathroom door!”

“You know what you have to do right?” Jake asked.

“Move out, change my name and run to Europe.”

He chuckled at your plan, “No, sweets. You got to show him something of yours.”

“Hangman, you’re an idiot.” Natasha told him.

He ignored her, “Think about it. You’d be even and not at all embarrassed every time that you see him. A flash is all it takes.”

“Please don’t listen to him. You don’t have to flash Bradshaw. Just talk to him. Acknowledging how awkward it is and moving on like adults is the right thing to do.” Natasha gave sound advice that you should definitely listen to.

“Phoenix, that sounds like the logical thing to do but I might go with Jake’s plan.”

“Why do I even bother to give out advice?” Natasha mumbled to no one.

“I appreciate your advice but I feel like I’m always going to feel awkward if things are even.”

Before Natasha could respond with how ridiculous you were being, Bradley walked into the bar. He looked around and spotted you instantly. It wasn’t hard to detect the pink tint that dusted his cheeks.

Bradley went over to the bar and planted down on one of the stools. Any other time, he would’ve pulled up a chair with the three of you and joined in.

“See. I can’t live like this. Bradley won’t even sit with me now.”

“Wow, maybe you do need to flash him.” Natasha said.

“So, what are you going to do?” Jake asked. He was clearly enjoying this more than he should.

You wished that Bradley would’ve just locked the damn door that morning so you both would’ve avoided all of the mess.

“I guess I’m going to flash Bradley.”

#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #top gun x reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster x y/n #top gun maverick x reader

[harryslittlefreakk]

can’t get you off my mind

(late night talking part 2)

Summary: your first night at LOT leads to a new depth to yours and harry’s… friendship

Warnings: smut, 18+!!!

A/n: i love this one. that’s all. this is all based off a very fun dream i had

hi guys!! thank you so much for all the love on this so far. if there’s anything you’d like to see, anything for me to add, anything at all you’d like in the upcoming parts then please let me know 🫶🏼xx

part one

my masterlist can be found here!

Harry spent the entire day thinking about you. He’d dropped you at your hotel that morning, slightly against his will. He woke before you, and couldn’t believe how adorable you looked sleeping. Your hair was a mess from tossing and turning in the night, your cheeks rosy from the morning heat and your rosebud lips puffing out with every breath.

He had places to be and you needed to shower, but once he saw the building you were staying in he decided you’d never go back there. It looked a state. The yellowing brickwork was falling apart, some windows were boarded up and the front door was wedged open for anyone to get in at any time. He made a mental note of your room number before he drove off.

You’d exchanged numbers as you left, but Harry hadn’t heard from you since then. Although he was busy with work at the venue, outfit fittings and some sneaky self-care, he was starting to panic that he wouldn’t speak to you again. So when he’d finally had enough of waiting by the phone like a teenager, he snapped a picture of himself with a sheet mask on. He sent it to you, then followed with a message.

harry: making myself pretty for you :)

He saw you were typing almost immediately, and his heart nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a picture from you flash up. You were wearing a tiny baby tee, and if he looked hard enough (which he absolutely did) he could make out the outline of your nipples under the shirt. You were surrounded by makeup, your hair already styled in perfect waves.

y/n: you’re pretty enough as you are. working hard on myself too 😋

Harry felt a blush creep up his cheeks as he read and reread your message. Tapping his fingers on the side of his phone, he stared up at the ceiling and wondered how you’d just been dropped right under his nose. He always shied away from women who were fans of his work, knowing it can get more complicated that way. But something was different about you, there was a reason he’d bumped into you last night, he was sure of it.

—

With soundcheck finished, all Harry had to do now was get ready. He wondered if you were outside already, where you’d be inside, what you’d be wearing. You hadn’t caved and given him any details, so the possibilities had been running through his mind all day. He paced his dressing room, stretching out his strong arms. Every show was important, every show needed to go right. His first night at Wembley needed to be a good one. He just hoped he’d spot you, know you were there so he didn’t have to keep looking for you. Sighing, he decided to send you one final text before shutting his phone off and getting in the zone.

harry: meet me at my hotel after the show? won’t be there until later but can give your name to the front desk :) x

y/n: only if i’m not intruding !!! good luck tonight, break a leg 🦵 x

Meanwhile, you were in the queue outside the stadium with your best friend, Joanie. You were both wearing denim halter playsuits, her with a blue feather boa and yours white. You’d met each other at school where you bonded over One Direction, so you wished to be able to tell her about your night with Harry. But you knew whatever friendship was blossoming between you two could only continue in private, at least for now, and you knew she’d understand when you eventually told her. She was watching you as you stood there, jittering and anxiously checking your phone. “What’s up with you?,” she asked, her face scrunched up. “Oh. Nothi- I’m just anxious to get inside,” you lied through your teeth, hoping she wouldn’t ask any further. You knew the last thing on Harry’s mind right now would be texting you, yet you still waited for another message. You had your phone brightness turned all the way down so no one could see, and clicked on your text chain with Harry every few minutes. You couldn’t stop looking at his selfie, his glistening green eyes against the white of the mask, the relaxed look on his face. He was shirtless, the heads of his inked swallows just creeping into frame. You hadn’t even clocked he’d slept shirtless last night. The things you’d do if presented with that again ..

The queue began to move inside, and every wall you looked at showed you pictures of Harry’s face. It felt totally insane that the same man you’d joked around with like old friends was the one you’d be screaming to shortly. Part of you wanted to dial down your enjoyment, make him think you’re just a casual fan so he felt more comfortable around you- but you knew the second he came on stage that would be out the window.

You found a perfect spot a few rows back from the front of the walkway, knowing Joanie wanted to see ‘little freak’ and ‘matilda’ up close. It wasn’t long until you heard the opening chords of ‘daydreaming’ and watched Harry burst onto the stage. The atmosphere was electric, and he looked divine in his red and white patterned jumpsuit. You and Joanie were screaming and jumping like children at a school disco, in pure disbelief of the love and wholesome vibes around you.

When Harry appeared just in front of you, you felt a buzzing in your chest. You’d seen his eyes scanning the crowds, as if he was looking for someone, and you really hoped he was looking for you. As soon as you thought about it, his eyes landed upon yours. He sucked in a long breath, losing his train of thought mid-ramble. Harry thought you were beautiful last night but you looked almost heavenly tonight. Your playsuit hugged your curves perfectly, the half-up zipper showing an inviting amount of cleavage. He could see all the tattoos dotted up and down your arms, and the way you were grinning at your friend made his heart melt a little. You had an air of innocence about you, which he loved. Suddenly, your friend was looking at him awestruck and nudging you to see. You half-waved, sending him a subtle wink so as not to alert Joanie to anything weird. Harry managed to carry on with what he was saying, but his eyes barely left you the entire time he was there.

By the time he got around to ‘late night talking’, Harry literally couldn’t get you off his mind. In a sea full of people, it’s like there was a spotlight on you. The way you were dancing, your hair flying around you, he was mesmerised. The rest of the show continued in a blur, with Harry barely in control of his own actions. Going through the motions until he could see you later on. Grinding against the microphone, acting out the dirtier parts of every song. You riled him up in the perfect way.

“I need a little help from you all,” he spoke into the microphone, one hand scanning the crowd. “It’s a little hot today, and I think we need to cool down.” His face remained serious, though the crowd laughed after his antics all night. He was positively feral. Rolling his shoulders back, Harry grabbed the microphone as the first lines of ‘kiwi’ tumbled out his mouth. It didn’t take long for him to be back in front of you, already drenched from the splashes of water he’d requested. He was standing there with a devilish smirk plastered on his face, full water bottle in hand.

She sits beside me like a silhouette

His hand traced the curves of his own body, eyes locked onto yours once again. The words you were screaming were no more than tiny squeaks now, heart caught in your throat as you watched Harry gyrating in front of you.

Hard candy drippin' on me 'til my feet are wet

He raked a hand down the front of his body, pulling away just before he reached his goods. Something in his eyes said he wanted to touch himself right here, right now.

And now she's all over me, it's like I paid for it

It's like I paid for it

He pointed towards you now, apparently totally incapable of anything except showing the world that he wanted to fuck you. Heat was swirling round your insides, this song did enough for you without Harry singing it for you.

I'm gonna pay for this

Just as the burning in your core got too much to bear, Harry unscrewed his water bottle and threw the contents right at you. You shrieked as the water hit you, drenching Joanie and the other girls around you. Harry returned your wink, the green of his eyes barely visible around his blown pupils, and moved on as if nothing happened.

“Oh my God!” Joanie screamed, jumping up and down at your side. “He was looking right at you!!”

You were so flustered, you couldn’t even find words to respond. You were almost nervous for the show to finish, hoping Harry still had this energy later.

—

Opening the door to your hotel room, you looked around with your jaw dropped. Everything was gone, all your makeup and clothes vanished from the piles around the room. All that was left was some gym shorts, a black t shirt and the pair of sneakers you wore last night. You turned on your heel, furious that someone had been fiddling with your stuff while you were away. It was only then that you saw the note pinned to the back of the door.

Y/N, this hotel sucks. Got you a room in mine. See you soon , H x

You couldn’t believe what you were reading. That cheeky little bastard didn’t even pre warn you that he’d cleared out your hotel room. You were desperate for a cold shower after the heat of the concert. Instead, you got changed quickly and scrubbed your makeup off, hoping that would make you feel a little fresher. Harry hadn’t even left you clean panties to change into.

—

Barging into his hotel room with the note still in your hand, you were half surprised to even see Harry standing there. You assumed he’d still be a while, but then, he didn’t have to battle through the crowds to leave the stadium. “There you are,” he grinned, so much more relaxed than you’d seen him a few hours ago. You flapped the note in the air, unable to even find words to question him. “Hey,” he started, stalking towards you slowly. “You can’t stay there alone, I don’t trust that place one bit. I put all your stuff in your room- it’s just one floor down from here.” You calmed down slightly at that, not even sure why you were so worked up to begin with. He was right, your hotel was the lowest of the low. “Thank you,” you mumbled, looking up at him. Harry was standing right in front of you now, wearing only a thin t shirt and the gym shorts from yesterday. He looked exhausted, but totally wired.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” he whispered, barely audible above the hum of the music he had playing. “Are you kidding?!” You replied, eyes lighting up as a grin stretched across your face. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” you laughed, poking a finger into Harry’s muscular chest. He grabbed your hand when you didn’t move it away, looking into your eyes with parted lips. His own eyes were darkened, his pupils blown with a look you couldn’t quite place. They dragged up and down from your eyes to your mouth, and just being subject to his gaze lit a fire in your core. He was animalistic. Harry traced along your jaw with his free hand, tentatively as if waiting to be stopped. Only, you didn’t stop him. You weren’t sure you could speak, even if you wanted to.

He let go of your wrist and ran both of his hands through his damp hair, before wiping down his face with his right hand. Harry took a step closer, his big frame overshadowing you as you stepped back until your hips hit the kitchen counter. Please, please let this go as far as I want it to, you silently prayed, wishing Harry could read your mind right now. He was still looking down at you, his firm chest rising and falling quickly. You placed a gentle hand against his pec, checking his eyes for any sign as to his next move. Harry merely cocked his head in response, as if trying to figure you out too. “Harry, please,” you moaned softly, hoping this would be all the permission he needed to have his wicked way with you.

Almost instantly, his hands were under your thighs, scooping you up and placing you on the countertop. He tilted your chin up and looked over your face one more time before his lips smashed into yours, starting a battle of tongues, teeth and lips. You wrapped an arm around his broad shoulder, allowing his tongue further into your mouth. Harry’s teeth tugged at your lower lip as he pulled away, his forehead resting against yours. You were panting, half from the lack of air but mostly from the heat in your belly. You mentally scolded him for not leaving you clean panties as they were double soaked now. You wrapped your ankles around his hips, pulling him closer into you until your cores connected. His thick shaft poked your inner thigh, leaving you moaning and crumbling in front of him. “You had me going crazy all night,” Harry moaned against your mouth, pushing his hands up and under your t-shirt. He kneaded your soft breasts as if they were warm dough, pinching your nipple as his lips moved down to your neck. His name tumbled out of your mouth over and over again, Harry, Harry, Harry, ringing around your head as he got to work on your body.

He stepped back, tilting your head up again to look him in the eyes as his fingers wrapped around the waistband of your shorts and panties. You gave him a small nod, knowing he’d take that as your consent to do whatever he fancied with you. Harry whipped them off in one go, his cock twitching at the sight of you. Your lips were swollen and pink, pupils blown with lust. He could see the wetness glistening between your folds, looking beyond inviting. His fingers trailed up your thigh, circling your button before slipping between your folds. Your head fell to his shoulder as he pushed in and out of you, stroking at your sweet spot. Your walls were tightening around his knuckles already, so much pent up pleasure pushing you close to your climax already.

“So close already, sweet girl?” Harry drawled, peppering kisses down your throat. You could only moan in response, feeling a ball of heat deep in your core. He slipped another finger in, rubbing on your button with his thumb, desperate to coax you to your high. “Right there Harry, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you panted, screwing up your eyes as he bought you closer. “Look at me, Y/N, look in my eyes as you come,” Harry warned, his tone stern yet breathy. The minute you looked up at him, your orgasm flooded over you. Your thighs were shaking as you called out his name through pants, a hand gripping the back of his thick curls.

He kept his fingers moving inside you, slower now as you came down from your high, before rubbing a hand along your waist. “You needed that, huh? Did so good for me baby,” he spoke softly, pressing kisses into your jawline. “I’m gonna take you to the bed now, okay?” He asked, pushing your hair out of your face. You simply nodded, unable to speak after such a fast and heavy orgasm.

Harry slipped off his shirt before sliding an arm under you and gripping you tight, carrying you over to the giant bed. He laid you down gently in the centre of the bed, kicking off his shorts and boxers. Your eyes were drawn to his groin as he gave himself a quick stroke, his erection bouncing up to smack the centre of his laurels. He was big. Bigger than he felt pressed against you, maybe bigger than you’d ever seen. “Fuck,” he groaned, looking down at you with his lips rolled into his mouth. “I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m clean, Harry. And I’m on birth control,” you offered. Harry grinned. He wouldn’t normally go raw, he knew the risks all too well. But man, did he want to. He could already feel the way your walls would stretch around him, the sheer pleasure of splitting you in two with no barrier in the way. It was risky, but he’d already taken enough risks with you. One more wouldn’t hurt.

He climbed on top of you, resting one hand to the left of your shoulder. Guiding his cock to your folds, he moaned at the slightest touch. You’d had him hard for so long now, Harry knew he wouldn’t last long when he finally got inside you. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips as he pushed his head inside of you. He took the first few inches slow, reeling from how tight you were around him. “Let me know if it’s too much, okay pet?” He looked deep into your eyes as you nodded, throwing an arm around his neck. “More, please Harry,” you whimpered, using one foot to nudge the back of his thigh. “You wanna take it all, princess? Gonna get fucked so good by daddy’s cock?”

You moaned louder at his words, pure filth tumbling out of his dirty, dirty mouth. Harry bottomed out inside you, throwing his head back in relief. He had every intention of starting off slow and careful, but after pulling out, his first thrust was already hard and sloppy. He needed you too badly to waste time warming you up. “You feel so good baby, never had someone so tight around me.” He rocked into you quickly, his free hand gripping onto yours. You had no idea sex could ever feel as good as it did right now. His cock was filling every inch of you, forcing satisfaction into places you’d never felt before. “Harry, fuck-“ you whined, “I’m close.”

“Come for me, I want you to come baby.” His groin was rubbing against your clit, your pleasure threatening to spill out of you again. You looked up at him, just as he’d requested before, and stretched your neck to press sloppy kisses along his collarbone. Your body started to tense up again, you could feel your walls clenching around his shaft. You writhed under him, this orgasm more intense than you’d ever had. “Fuck baby, fuck. Where do you want me to come?” He stuttered, throwing everything left in his body into thrusting in and out of you as you came down from your high. “Inside me, please, fuck Harry.” You panted, clawing into the back of his neck. He wasted no time in painting your walls with his come, his thrusts becoming sloppy and half-arsed as he cried out your name.

—

“You didn’t have to do that, you know. I wasn’t expecting it or anything,” you spoke softly, moving your head to look up at Harry. He only wrapped his arm around you tighter, pressing a kiss into the top of your head. “I know. I wanted to.” He replied, pulling the duvet on top of you both with his free hand. “Seemed like you wanted it too,” he smirked, nestling his chin into your hair. You slapped his chest playfully, eyes heavy after your long night. You both fell asleep like that, tangled up in each other, wearing nothing but a pair of pants each.

part three

#harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry x fan #harry fic #harry x y/n #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #Harry styles x fan #harry smut #harry styles #harry styles smut

[palajae]

you and me.

PAIRING... skater!niki x skater!reader | GENRE… figure skating! au, romance, angst, fluff, unconditional love.? | WC... 0.4k | “can we please go back to how we were?”

you cut straight to the point. there was no hesitation and second guessing with niki, there never was. you sit on the bench with your skates still on, an awkward distance away from niki.

“i saw online. why did you say that you wish you were skating partners with haerin instead?” 

you had never once felt threatened by haerin. she was a nice, gorgeous, talented skater with her own partner. but to hear your own partner, the one you built years of trust and connection with, supposedly throw it all away was heartbreaking. 

“what? it wasn’t like that. i just said it in a moment of frustration. plus, she just wanted some reassurance. that’s all. you know i could never leave you-“

“could or would?” you cut him off sharply. “because it seems like you’re willing to throw this all away.”

your red hands clench into fists. 

you can feel him getting defensive, the furrow between his eyebrows prominent. 

“y/n, what are you saying? there’s no need to get mad, everyone knows how close we are but i guess she didn’t. i promise i just said it to make my girlfriend feel better.” 

he only ever made that face when he was focusing on catching you safely, making sure you weren’t hurt. 

“so you’re letting her get in between our relation-our partnership? our careers?”

this time you’re looking straight at him, searching for any signs of what he was thinking. 

he pauses, taking a moment to recollect his thoughts before he said something too emotional, too harsh. 

“what happened to keeping our personal and professional lives separate?”

you narrow your eyes at him, “shouldn’t i be asking you that?”

niki exhales, scooting closer.

“okay. you’re right. i’m sorry. it won’t happen again. you’re the only one for me. can we please get back on track and focus? can we please go back to how we were?”

you sigh, “it’s not that easy, niki. you have a girlfriend now and obviously, it’s clear she isn’t happy with how we were before.” 

whatever “we were before” meant.

he rubs a hand over his face. 

“fine. but at least let me ask you this. why do you care so much? you never did in the past with the other girls i dated. you’ve been acting so strange after i started seeing haerin-i thought we wouldn’t let these kinds of things get in between us…” 

you don’t say anything, so he continues, 

“it’s not like we were dating, we probably won’t ever.”

out of all the times you and niki had both said that—to your fans, to your friends, to your family—

this one hurt the most. 

because he was right. and it felt so wrong. 

so you take your chance to leave before it showed. but it didn’t matter, because he knew. he always did.

a/n ▸ mwuaha is it gonna be a happy or sad ending (or both)?

part 3/4 | previous. | next.

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[papercorgiworld]

Toxicity

The dark lord’s favourite always gets what she wants

You use your influence with the dark lord to get a certain someone to behave.

Theo Nott and Mattheo Riddle imagine

Warning: toxic reader, crucio, bit angsty? and suggestiveness

Quick post forecast: today, we’ve got toxic Thursday with Theo and Matt, tomorrow it’s flirty Friday with Enzo and if all goes well we’ll have a smutty Saturday.

Tumblr wouldn’t let me insert the pictures in text, which makes me so sad. 🥺 Sorry, you’ll have to scroll down, I hope I can fix it later… Fixed it!!!! anyways happy readings!

Requested part 2

Theodore Nott

The dark lord smiled with genuine admiration for your work as you handed him Merlin’s spell book. “I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me, you never do. Like your parents you know what loyalty means.” You nod and he continues. “If there’s anything I can do to show my gratitude, please let me know.” You shake no, pretending like you didn’t already have something in mind when you entered his office.

After a few seconds you speak up. “Actually, there might be something, a little annoying matter that I can’t seem to manage myself.” His silence is his way of telling you to state your wish. “There’s a guy in my year, he never shows me any respect. Belittles me all the time. Yesterday, he even stole from me. I can’t do anything about it, Dumbledore doesn’t allow students to curse one another.”

The dark lord circles around you, listening attentively. He already has his suspicions, but nevertheless asks: “His name?” You meet Tom Riddle's eyes. “Theodore Nott.”

Without warning he points his wand to the door and it slams open. “Theodore, join us.” Every hair on Theo’s body raises as soon as he hears his name, but calmly follows orders. Theo’s eyes immediately land on you and a scowl forms on his face, this can’t be good. “I’ve been told your behavior isn’t what it should be.” Theodore’s eyes darken. “Whatever she said is a lie.” The dark lord snaps his head at Theo, not pleased with how he talks about his favorite. “Crucio!” Your eyes widen as Theodore falls to his knees, reaching for a nearby table to keep himself from fully collapsing. “I think his behavior will now drastically improve.” You nod and the dark lord turns towards Theodore. “Return what you stole and don’t leave this room until you’re forgiven.”

As soon as you and Theo are alone he looks up at you with hatred. “You are vile.” You simply grin. “If I were you I would change your tone and maybe throw in a few compliments.” Theodore pulls his eyes away from you. You were probably right. His orders were clear, you had to leave this room happy or whatever was waiting for him would be worse than the curse he had already suffered.

Now that he’s standing again you slowly walk towards him and he quietly stares at you bottling up his anger. “I want my essay back.” You demand. He huffs, but you quirk an eyebrow reminding him to behave. Theo takes a deep breath as he surrenders and reaches for the inside pocket of his jacket. “Here’s the essay you wrote based on my idea.” He offers you the paper and a content smirk tugs on your lips. Theo turns around, pleased to be done with you, but you grab his arm pulling him back.

“You aren’t forgiven yet.” You remind him. “How about you start with a little ‘I’m sorry’.” You suggest, making him close the distance between you two and tower over you. You try to hide the fact that you’re a little intimidated and bravely look him in the eyes. “I won’t apologize.” You lick your lips patiently. “I’m not responsible for what happens to you if you leave this room unforgiven. The dark lord might see you as an unloyal freeloader who only follows orders when it fits him.” Theodore balls his fists as his frustration with you peaks. You want to say something more, but Theo won’t let you. He forcefully grabs your chin and pushes you against the desk behind you. “I won’t apologize to you.” The boiling hate in his voice is undeniable and honestly you don’t blame him. He started playing games with you without knowing how dirty you play and now his ego’s was taking some serious damage. You speak through gritted teeth as Theo’s hold on your chin stays. “If you aren’t going to use that mouth of yours for apologizing, you better put it to good use elsewhere.”

Theodore jaw clenches and he stares at you debating his options, but you know him better than he knows himselfs. Your core is aching for what is to come. “Fine.” Theo spits as he surrenders to your will, but not without being an arrogant ass about it. With one harsh move he spreads your legs and you grip the desk behind you for support. Your smug grin is irresistible to Theodore, but he’ll never let you know how turned on he gets so he keeps his eyes dark as he slides down on you.

Mattheo Riddle

You are part of the Slytherin friend group but you know that Mattheo isn’t too fond of you. He’s always ridiculing you for something stupid. It was like his hobby was getting on your nerves. However, you’ve had enough of it and tonight his attitude was going to change. You had managed to get your hands on Merlin’s spell book before Mattheo and were currently handing it over to a very pleased Tom Riddle.

“Your extraordinary effort for our cause is admirable and doesn’t go unnoticed by me.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, but kept quiet as he sat at a table with the Malfoys. The dark lord wrapped his arm around you pulling you into a cold but appreciative hug, while whispering. “Anything you wish, my dear?” You look over at Mattheo, but as soon as your eyes meet he looks away and you can’t help but smirk. Softly you whisper something to Tom, making Mattheo look back up with anxious eyes. “Unappreciative, you say?” You nod. “And disrespectful.” You add and the dark lord seems to get more agitated. With a dramatic calmness he points his wand at the table, making everyone’s face flash with terror.

Suddenly, the quiet room is interrupted by a loud smack as Mattheo’s face is forced against the table by a spell. The emotional pain is just as visible as the blood dripping from his nose. With fuming rage and yet a stern calmness his father makes his way to the table, while every other person looks down in an attempt to hide their fear. The dark lord grabs Mattheo’s face forcing him to make eye contact. “You do not mistreat my dear (y/n). She’s loyal. A woman like her should be appreciated and pampered. From now on you’ll be good to her. Understood?”

The grip on his face is too strong for Mattheo to properly nod, but his eyes tell his father everything he needs to know. Mattheo will comply with everything the dark lord demands. When Tom releases Mattheo he looks up at you and you sincerely bow to show your gratitude and respect, thereby affirming your spot as favorite.

After the world’s most uncomfortable meeting you’re pleased to wander the hallways in solitude. You spot Mattheo cleaning his face through the half opened bathroom door and you stop to watch him. When your eyes lock in the reflection of the mirror his whole body tenses, but this doesn’t stop him from giving you a scowl. This makes your pity for him ebb away. You take a few confident strides and join him, taking the cloth from him to clean his face. “He could’ve done worse.” Your words just make him scoff. “Is my pain and humiliation not enough amusement for you?” He grabs your hand telling you to stop, you try but fail to get out of his grip and his attitude starts to frustrate you. “Stop whining, Riddle, and let go of me or I’ll go crying to your dad again.” Mattheo’s jaw clenches, but he reluctantly releases your hand allowing you to clean and heal him.

After you’ve fixed him up you both make your way back to the other guests. When you enter the room Mattheo is quick to leave you a few steps behind, searching for his friends, but one disappointed and contemptible look from his father makes Mattheo instantly turn back towards you. To your surprise he’s quick to snake an arm around you. You glare at Mattheo for being so obvious about only being nice to you to save himself. “I’m not feeling really appreciated.” Mattheo rolls his eyes at your words, while leaning in to whisper through gritted teeth. “You expect a lot of love and appreciation from a man who never gets any himself.” You look at his dark eyes, while they dart around you. “Just tell me what you want and you’ll have it.” You lay your hand on his cheek forcing him to make eye contact. “Take me to your room and fuck me.” You demand, surprising Mattheo. His harsh and frustrated eyes turn softer as he realises you might not be as unreasonable as he thought.

A/N: Typo’s, grammatical errors, forgotten warnings, worries, disturbances, disastrous thoughts? Let me know, feedback is always welcome!

Picture source: https://pin.it/33fAo21Oe

#slytherin #slytherin boys #theodore nott #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo #papercorgiworldwritings

[corroded-hellfire]

Sweet Child O’ Mine - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish Story

Summary: When your newborn won’t stop crying, Eddie’s there to comfort his two favorite girls.

Note: I couldn’t get this out of my head so I needed to write this little family.

Words: 2.3k

The shrill cries from the newborn in your arms have brought on your own tears. It’s been over two hours now that the crocodile tears have run and the high-pitched wailing has been coming from the tiny human. Why is she still crying? She won’t eat. She has a clean diaper. She’s cradled in the warmth of your body. What does she want?

“Sweetie, please,” you beg as one of your own tears plops down onto her downy baby hair. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you want.” 

Eddie slips through the doorway, heel of his hand rubbing one of his eyes. “She being fussy?” 

When you turn to face him, he can see the tears streaming down your face, reflecting off the moonlight shining in the window of the nursery. He’s instantly fully awake, coming over and resting a hand on your lower back. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he says. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Y-You have work in the morning,” you say with a sniffle. “You need sleep.”

“So do you, you poor thing.” Eddie runs the back of his fingers over your cheeks, wiping away the moisture. He turns his attention to your cranky daughter in your arms. “And you, little miss. You need sleep, too.”

Another wail bursts from her little mouth and it sends a fresh wave of tears down your face. 

“Eddie, why can’t I do this? Why can’t I soothe my own baby?” 

The pain lacing your words cuts right to Eddie’s heart. “Sweetheart, it’s not your fault,” he assures you. “Luke was the same way as a baby. I’d pace the entire house back and forth for hours while he cried.”

“I don’t know what to do,” you admit, bottom lip trembling. 

“Give her to me,” Eddie says, gently maneuvering the seven-day-old baby into his arms. “Come on, let’s go back to our room.”

You follow your husband, wiping the remaining tears from your face. He sits on the edge of the bed and tugs the bassinet closer with one hand while he holds the precious little girl against his chest with the other. 

“I took her temperature, I checked her diaper, I tried to feed her, and nothing,” you say, wringing your hands together in front of you. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Eddie says. “C’mere, sit next to me.”

When you do, Eddie shifts the baby in his arms so you can both see her little face, all pinched up and red from her tantrum. You can’t help but notice though, that she’s quieted considerably since Eddie took her. 

“Maybe she just doesn’t like me.” You say it so softly because you don’t really want Eddie to hear it. But he does.

“She loves you,” Eddie says. 

“She loves my boobs,” you say.

“Can’t blame her there.” Eddie winks at you and it brings a small smile to your face.

“And I can’t blame her for calming down once you held her. I always feel better in your arms, too.” 

“I have the magic touch, what can I say?”

You rest your head on your husband’s bare shoulder, eyes peering up at your daughter who’s still squirming around. 

“She’s so beautiful,” you whisper as you admire the baby girl. Her eyes are still that newborn blue and the soft tufts of hair on her head are the same exact shade as her father’s. Her little fingers stretch out before closing in a fist once more. 

“Yeah, we made a pretty wonderful little human together, huh?” Eddie presses a soft kiss to her forehead. The way he looks at her makes you feel like you’re falling in love with him all over again. The pure adoration and love in his eyes is enough to make you cry—even if your hormones weren’t driving you wild. 

“You Daddy’s little girl, huh?” Eddie asks and the newborn coos in return, making the pair of you smile. “God, I’m already obsessed with her.”

“Baby, you were obsessed with her the moment you knew I was pregnant,” you remind him. 

The little bundle in his arms rests her head against Eddie’s chest and her eyes finally slip closed. 

“M’stuck now,” Eddie whispers with a chuckle. 

“Wait a few minutes, then put her back in the bassinet,” you say.

“I know that’s what I’m supposed to do, I just don’t want to let go of her,” Eddie admits, gazing down at her. 

“Hmm,” you hum. “What about a compromise? She gets to sleep all nice and cozy in her bassinet while you hold me. Then when she wakes up, it’s her turn again for the magical Eddie cuddles.” 

“Magical Eddie cuddles?” he asks with a soft laugh. “You’re more sleep deprived than I thought.” 

Eddie moves slowly, so as not to disturb the sleeping baby, and gently lays her down in the white frilly bassinet. He breathes a sigh of relief, and you rest your head on his shoulder. Your peace doesn’t last long though, as she starts to wake up, little whines spilling from her lips. Before you can say anything, Eddie starts rocking the bassinet gently and singing softly to your girl.

“She's got a smile that it seems to me

Reminds me of childhood memories

Where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky.”

Her eyes drift closed again and by the time Eddie finishes singing Sweet Child O’ Mine, she’s fast asleep. 

Both of you are exhausted. Running ragged from keeping up with Ryan and Luke’s schedules with school and sports and band. But even though you both desperately need sleep, your eyes aching to close and your body yearning to lay down, neither of you make a move. Eddie slips his arm around your waist as you both watch small pink lips part as a little gurgle comes out in her sleep. 

“Mm, come on,” Eddie finally says, tearing his eyes away. “Let’s get you some sleep.”

“You too,” you pout. 

“Me, too,” he agrees before taking one more look at your daughter. “Sleep tight, angel.”

“Mommy and Daddy are here if you need us,” you say, peering in on her as well. “We love you so much, Eliza.”

Eddie’s alarm blares and he reflexively reaches over to shut it up before it disturbs the baby. He breathes a sigh of relief when the room remains quiet, eyes staying closed as he takes in this peaceful moment before he has to get up. Your hand rubs across his chest and Eddie blinks his eyes open. He smiles when he sees you letting out an adorable yawn and tugs you closer against his side. 

“Morning, baby,” he murmurs sleepily. 

“Morning, handsome.” You lean up and press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Can't believe she’s still sleeping,” Eddie says as he trails his fingers up and down your side.

“Mm, I know,” you hum. Turning your head over your shoulder to take a peek at your daughter, you do a double take and sit up in alarm.

“What?” Eddie asks, sitting up alongside you.

“She’s not there,” you say.

“What?” Eddie repeats. He throws the blankets off his legs and stands up, walking around the bed to the bassinet. 

You’re scrambling out of the bed, stumbling into the hall and Eddie follows right behind you.

“Okay, but be careful,” you hear Ryan’s voice coming from his room. “Make sure you’ve got her head.”

Popping your head into his doorway, you see Luke sitting on Ryan’s bed, their little sister held carefully in his arms. A sigh of relief leaves your body, and you sag against the door frame. Eddie stands behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders as you watch the boys. 

“She’s so tiny,” Luke says, looking down at her face. Eliza is awake but calm as she stares back up at her brother. Ryan is hovering, like he’s ready to swoop in and take the baby at the first sign of trouble. At twelve years old he’s been the best little helper you could have imagined. Luke was still a little hesitant around the baby, unsure of how to handle such a tiny and fragile person. 

Tears flood your eyes as you watch the boys with their new sister. You never had any doubt about how great they’d be with her but seeing the three of them together like this in the moment, your hormones and emotions overflow. 

“Who do you think she looks most like?” Ryan asks.

Luke tilts his head as his eyes trail over the baby’s delicate features. “I don’t know. She just looks like a baby.”

“I think her mouth looks like Dad’s,” Ryan says. 

“And she has the same color hair,” Luke adds. 

“But,” Eddie says from the doorway, causing both boys to look in your direction. “She’s going to be as beautiful as her mom.”

Luke frowns as he sees you wiping tears from your cheeks. He’d never gotten used to your emotions being all over the place for the past nine months. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you say, shaking your head. “Nothing at all. Has she been crying?”

“I heard her starting to a little while ago,” Ryan says. “So, I went and got her so you could sleep.”

You take a few steps over to your oldest and press kisses against his head. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Ryan smiles and leans into your side. 

“You got her there, buddy?” Eddie asks as Luke shifts the baby in his arms.

“Yeah,” he says. “She’s just getting a little heavy.”

“She’s like seven pounds,” Ryan says with a laugh. 

Luke glares at his older brother and Eddie steps forward to sit down on the bed with the two younger kids. 

“Can be a lot after a while,” Eddie says. “Want me to take her?”

Luke nods and Eddie carefully takes the baby from him. Eliza fusses a little as she’s moved around but settles quickly as her dad starts to rock her. 

“You boys should start getting ready for school,” you say, hand falling to Ryan’s shoulder. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Waffles?” Luke asks and you nod. 

“Ry? Waffles good?” He nods and you press another kiss to his head. “Two orders of waffles and an order of milk coming right up.” 

Eliza gurgles, as if knowing you mentioned her breakfast as well. Luke grins and peers down at the baby in his dad’s arms. 

“She’s so cute,” the ten-year-old muses. His curls sway as he leans forward, and Eliza’s gaze catches on them. “She likes my hair. Is she gonna have curly hair, too?”

“Maybe,” Eddie says. “We’ll have to wait and see. Go on and get dressed now.”

Luke stands up and heads out the door, you and Eddie following behind him so Ryan can get changed as well. Eddie bounces Eliza in his arms as the two of you walk into the kitchen, humming when she starts to get fussy. His soothing tone calms her as you pull the frozen waffles out of the freezer and pop them in the toaster.

“Pretty sure she’s just like me,” you say. 

Eddie smiles at you as you grab a bottle of milk that you’d pumped the night before out of the refrigerator. “What makes you say that?”

“When you hold her, she calms down. When you hum or sing to her, she calms down. Sounds just like your wife.”

“My Munson girls,” he says with a grin. 

Once you put the bottle in the microwave, you come over and press a kiss to his cheek. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Eliza whines and stretches her hand out in your direction.

“And you too, of course!” Slipping your finger into her hand, she clenches it in her tiny fist. You press kisses against her little knuckles and Eddie watches the two of you with an adoring smile on his face. 

“Don’t wanna go to work,” Eddie says. “Wanna stay home with my girls.”

“Uh uh,” you tut. “The only time I’m her favorite is when you’re not here. Need some bonding time if I want to turn her into a Mama’s girl.”

“Trying to steal her affection, huh?” Eddie teases with a smirk. “Maybe I should take her to work with me.”

“Oh yeah,” you say with a scoff. “Because the sound of your alarm usually bothers her so definitely take her to where you can’t hear yourself think.”

The microwave beeps and you pull the bottle out. Testing the temperature on your wrist, you nod to yourself in satisfaction and grab a burp cloth to toss over your shoulder. Eddie hands her over to you and she happily accepts the bottle, large blue eyes staring up at you as she drinks. 

Eddie lingers in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against the wall. He knows he should go get dressed and start getting ready for work. But he can’t make himself move as he watches you. The way you smile at Eliza, your hair still messy and bags under your eyes from lack of sleep. How you cradle her close, holding the bottle up for her. His heart thrums against his ribs, eyes misting over. 

The boys come into the room, both dressed for school, and take a seat at the table. The waffles pop up in the toaster and Eddie grabs two plates to toss them on. He sets them down in front of each son as Ryan gets up to get the syrup. 

“You’ve gotta get going,” you tell Eddie. 

“Fine, fine,” Eddie says with a sigh. He starts to walk out of the kitchen but pauses, taking a moment to look back at the four of you.

Ryan and Luke stuffing their faces, bits of sticky syrup getting on their lips. Eliza staring up at her beautiful mom as she enjoys her breakfast bottle. And the woman he wants to share the rest of his life with. A warmth tingles through his body.

In that moment, he knows. He’s never been happier. 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #dad!eddie #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #AYW #AYWs

[mari-the-bimbo]

hi! can you write something about dorm mate!geto arguing with reader but then they would apologize (idk whose fault it was) please 🙏

A/N: Thanks for the idea bby!! Plot twist: they don’t apologise, you know I love miscommunication tropes right? 😋

Dorm mate Geto: Just friends

It’s Friday night and you find yourself at one of Gojo party friends’ party again. It’s kind of a tradition. You, Gojo and Geto heading out for a party so get that much needed social time in your busy lives. You don’t join them all the time, but when you do, you feel good.

You and Shoko laugh at the drunk Utahime who was having the time of her life. You enjoyed watching your usually uptight friend letting herself go once in a while.

But when she started loudly explaining why Gojo was unfuckable, you and Shoko decided maybe it was time to leave the party.

“Come on Princess” Shoko says sarcastically to Utahime, while you help bring the drunk girl to her feet. “Let’s get you home. Hey y/n, you need a ride home babe?” Shoko asks, swirling the car keys around her finger.

“Nah I’m good thanks Shoko” you say with a smile. “I’ll see if Geto’s ready to go” you add, knowing Gojo was probably hooking up with someone right now.

“Cool. See you later chick” Shoko says and you wave goodbye to them before walking back to find Geto. You check your phone, 00:31 it reads. Past midnight, okay time to leave a party right?

You squint, looking to find the black long haired man, but when you finally spotted him, you wished you didn’t.

Your handsome dorm mate sat on a sofa, with some pretty girl wrapping her slender arms around his broad shoulders. He whispers something in her ear with his signature lazy smirk, the girl laughs brightly. No doubt Geto said a dry but flirty joke, something you thought was reserved only for you.

You think you feel a bit sick. Heartbroken was what you actually felt. He hasn’t seen you yet, you hope it stays that way. You hope he didn’t see you foolishly waiting on him, while he got cosy with some other girl.

Was it always like this? Did he always get cosy with other girls but your delusions made you think it was only you? How silly. What you once thought was a sweet blooming romance between you and a dear friend was nothing more than a minor situationship to him.

You turn your heel and speed out the house before you could embarrass yourself anymore.

1:01 AM

You swirl your ramen absentmindedly in the pot, hoping the warm noodles will fill the emptiness you feel in your stomach.

Suddenly you hear the door open and shut. You didn’t dare look up, there’s so much to stay but you choose to stay silent, hoping Geto won’t notice you in the dim lighting in his drunk state.

But that never works.

“You hungry doll?” Geto chuckles as he spots you. You don’t answer, scared your voice will crack.

“Well how about I help out and make you some hot cocoa yeah?” He says, with a smile that feels fake to you now.

“No. I don’t want a drink” you say abruptly, you cringe internally, knowing how rude you sounded, but you can’t help but feel resentful.

Geto stops in his tracks, slowly turning towards you, long hair strands framing his face.

“You okay hun?”

You wince, ‘hun’ was the last thing you needed to be called by the man who just broke your heart.

You silently just stare at your ramen, trying to play it cool, be the chill girl who doesn’t really care, but you already messed up. You were a born a person who cared too much.

“You shouldn’t call me that.”

“What? Why?” He says, an unimpressed frown on his handsome face. You stare silently at your ramen again.

You sigh when Geto pushes in front of you and turns off the stove so that he can have your attention.

“Look at me and tell me what’s wrong” he says.

You cross your arms almost in defence, disobeying him by staring out the window instead. “What am I to you Geto?”

“My favourite girl, of course” he answered softly in a heartbeat, taking a step closer to you, but you move backwards.

You shake your head. “No” you say, “that’s not what I am. What is our relationship? Are we friends or more?”

The room falls silent.

You sigh, wishing you never asked and hurt your own feelings. The silence answered your question. Friends.

“If we are friends, then we should put some distance between us” you say bravely.

You look up at Geto, to find the usually composed, chill guy look shattered. Black eyebrows furrowed, mouth slightly open. You’ve never seen Geto look off guard, you almost feel bad.

“Oi… what do you mean by that?” You can hear the anger bubbling through his throat, he’s trying his best to stay calm.

“I mean stop flirting and touching me Geto, do that with the girls you’re romantically interested in” you assert your stance, slightly raising your voice to your own surprise.

“Thats-“ Geto starts but he doesn’t finish his sentence.

He pauses before starting, now stepping away from you.

“I’m.. sorry I caused any inconvenience for you. I won’t do it again.” He says formally, putting his hands in his pockets and walking out the small dorm kitchen. Black hair stands dangling in front of his face as he keeps his head down.

Leaving you alone with your broken heart again.

#geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru x you #geto suguru #jjk geto x reader #jjk getou #jjk geto #jjk geto suguru #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk angst #jjk fanfic #jjk hcs #jjk headcanons #jjk imagines #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen hcs #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #geto fanfic #geto angst #geto fluff

[thisreadswhatever]

His Best Friend's Sister

find my masterlist here

[description]: jax teller x fem!reader

[wordcount]: 2.2k

[summary]: as Opie’s little sister, you never really had a chance with Jax. but with a plan to make him jealous one night at Diosa, you're hoping you can change all of that.

[cw]: 18+, flirting, slight angst, smut, younger reader (just out of college), pet names, oral f receiving, choking, biting, mildly rough sex, spelling/grammar errors throughout

[an]: this is based off of this request (thank you!) - it took so long to finish as i was struggling to write for awhile. it’s not as rough smut wise as it could’ve been but for my first one in a few months it could’ve been worse. anyways now it’s complete i think it may be one of my favourite things i’ve wrote for jax! hope you enjoy. requests are always welcomed - they really help me gain some confidence in my writing. if you’d like to be tagged in future works please lmk :)

“Are you sure you’re okay with this, brother?”

Jax was perched against the door of the men’s bathroom in Diosa.

“If my sister’s going to be with any outlaw, I guess it’s better off being my best friend.”

Jax was amused at this, smirking as he pushed Opie in the shoulder. “As far as outlaws I’d say I’m a pretty big catch.”

Opie scoffed while he zipped up his jeans, “Just don’t break her heart, or I’ll have to break your jaw.” Jax grinned at his best friend, “fair enough.”

You’d known Jax since you were both little kids, and between him and Opie, you always felt like just the pestering little sister, even if you were only two years younger than them. Once you’d graduated college and moved back to Charming, you’d realised just how much you liked Jax. He wasn’t like any guy you’d met at college, and you were crushing.. hard. It had been weeks of playing it cool, and you were done with the act. Tonight you had put on your best dress for Chib’s birthday party at Diosa, and you were going to make Jax see you weren’t just Opie’s annoying little sister anymore.

He walked in from the back rooms with Opie, laughing and running his hands through his hair, rings on every other finger. There was just something about Jax. You pretended you didn’t see him, but any chick with eyes would’ve looked. Melissa, one of the Diosa girls that you’d recently become friends with, had noticed him arrive too.

“Well if your plan doesn’t work in that dress, you got no chance.”

You’d wore the sexiest dress you had, a black short formed velvet dress with tiny straps and the tightest push up bra you could find.

“It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve worn a dress in front of him. He probably won’t notice me at all.”

Nonetheless, you did what you could to catch his eye. You shimmied on your seat towards the bar to make sure Jax could see you, and maybe he could catch a glimpse of your best assets flaunting with the help of your bra. You glanced over at him, wishing he’d glance back so you could lock eyes, yet he was clearly preoccupied by the heated discussion Tig and Bobby were having.

Melissa sighed, “we gotta go for plan B.”

You had no clue what she meant. “Hey Lucas, get over here.” You shifted your view from Jax to her, shocked by whatever she was conjuring up.

“What the fuck are you doing Melissa?”

“You want Jax to notice you?”

“By talking to a prospect?”

“Just shut up and do what I say.” If she wasn’t your closest friend here, you would’ve punched her. Lucas had only been a prospect with the club for a few months, he was shy and in your opinion, a little too innocent looking to be an outlaw. He stood beside your table, unsure what it was he was there for.

“Hey ladies. What can I do for ya?”

“Why don’t you sit down? We don’t bite.” Poor Lucas was melting at the flirty smile Melissa flashed his way. He shrugged and wedged himself on the empty chair placed at the edge of the table, right beside you. You almost felt bad for him.

Almost. Because it was that very moment that you glanced at Jax, and realised he was looking over now, directly at you, smiling while sipping his beer. Your heart started to race.

“What do you think of y/n’s dress?” She must’ve really wanted you to punch her. How the fuck was this going to get you Jax? Lucas pulled at the collar of his shirt, clearly wary that whatever the answer, he was in for it.

“It’s smokin’. Is that all you called me over here for?” Melissa nudged you on the side, pushing you closer to Lucas. “We just thought you may wanna get to know y/n a little better. Seeming as you’re new to the club and all.” You weren’t sure if Lucas looked delighted at the attention or like he wanted to run for the hills.

Melissa whispered in your ear, “It’s working.”

You looked over your shoulder back to the bar, and she was right, Jax hadn’t taken his eyes off you. You decided to play into it a little more. “Hey Lucas, did you know there’s a room out the back that is completely sound proofed?” Melissa gawked at your blunt question. Okay, maybe that was too far. “Umm.. no...” You leaned into him, placing your hand on his leg. “Yep, wanna see?” Lucas gulped and stood up. “Sure, why not.” You smiled at him and held your hand out for him to take, and you both headed towards the back rooms. You didn’t so much as peak at Melissa, but you did look at Jax. He was still watching, as you left the lobby, hand in hand with Lucas.

“This is the room. Pretty cool, huh?” You walked along the velvet wall frame, covered in grey foam squares. The room was large and full of red silk and tapestry. Lucas trailed behind you, closing the door as he followed. “Why would there be sound proofing at a massage parlour?” You laughed, the poor kid really was as naive as he was innocent. “This isn’t a massage parlour, silly.” You were about to explain, until there was a loud knock at the door. Before anyone could answer it, Jax walked in. “Club business out back, prospect. Tig’s looking for you.” Lucas practically ran, nodding at Jax as he left, slamming the door behind him.

And just like that, you were alone. With Jax. For the first time. Ever.

“Hi, Jax.” was all you could get out.

“Hey there, darlin.”

“Club business? Now?” You sat down on the edge of the bed, brutally aware of how high the skin on your thighs were now exposed from the already too short dress. Jax ignored your question as he sat down right next to you, twirling a lighter in his hands. “What exactly were you doing in here with the prospect?” You couldn’t lie to Jax, you were smart enough to know he’d see right through it. You also couldn’t tell him how you’d used the poor innocent soul to make him jealous either. “He wanted to see the room. I was being courteous.” Jax couldn’t contain the laughter now, “Courteous? He looked like his face was gonna melt off.”

Jax stood up and leaned back on his heels, plainly drinking you in with his eyes.

“Were you always this hot?”

Your heart started to race again, crimson filled your cheeks, but you knew you had to play it cool. You narrowed your eyes at him, “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

Jax smiled back at you. “I never really noticed before. Being Ope’s sister kinda means you’re off limits.” Great. Still in little sister territory. “Then why are you here?”

He was walking to the other side of the room before he sat on the love seat in the far corner. “I wanted to check out the sound proofing.” He was highly amused.

“Very funny.” You figured he was just fucking with you, so you got up from the bed, heading for the door.

“Wait, don’t go.” Jax rushed to stand inbetween you and the doorway, blocking your exit. “I’m only messing with you babe. I’m here cos I couldn’t let Lucas have the hottest girl in Charming.”

“What’s it to you if I’m ‘off limits’..”

The gap between you and Jax was slimming so much you were sure he could hear your heart pounding through your chest. “Play it cool, play it cool” was all you kept repeating to yourself.

“That was before I told Ope I want you to be my old lady. And before I saw you seducing the prospects-“, Jax closed what space was remaining between you, “but I guess if you’d rather have a prospect I could leave you lovebirds to it..”

You shook your head. “Lucas is cute and all but you’re pretty alright too.” Jax leaned into you smiling, turning his back from the door. You moved with him, until you were the one with your back against the door, and Jax so close you could feel his chest moving with each breath. “I definitley don’t want to share you with Lucas.” He was so matter of fact. His nose was touching yours, your body’s morphing into one from the closeness. Fuck.

“Then make me all yours.”

Jax pulled his weight into you, pressing you firmly against the door. You grabbed his cut and pulled him tighter, if that were even possible, securing every inch of your body against his. You wrapped your hands into his blonde hair, tugging at the strands, before pulling your mouth to his. You had to stretch on your toes to reach him, using his hair to bring him closer to your level. He kissed you back with intent, his breath warm and smelling of cigarettes and beer, and you couldn’t get enough. Moans escaped between your lips as his hands travelled all over your dress, pushing you even further into the door so you could feel his hard on rubbing against you.

He pulled your hands from his hair, pinning them above your head to the door. He secured you there with one hand, and used his other to trail his fingers down your chest and stomach, pulling the fabric of your dress higher and higher. He kept his hand against your thigh, gnawing at the skin between your legs, all while kissing your neck as he moved towards your ear. “I like you like this”, he whispered. You groaned at the sound of his praise. This all just felt too good to be true.

He tugged the skin of your thighs tighter and the sensation sent tingles through your core, like a fire was burning in your hips towards your mound. It was all too much. “Holy shit, Jax. Just fuck me already.”

He giggled into your neck and suddenly your hands were released, with your feet lifted off the ground as Jax threw you on the bed. He was standing over you, pulling the buckle from his belt in his jeans. “Mmmm.. well maybe I like you like this better. Take off those panties.” You did as he said, knowing you would follow every instruction he ever gave you without a second thought. You wiggled out of your laced briefs while you lay there, before balling them up and throwing them at him. Jax caught them with one hand, and put them in his back pocket before pulling his jeans off. “What about my dress?” you asked playfully. He knelt down beside the bed, extending his hands to feel you under the dress that was now barely clinging to your body, before sliding them down to your legs and spreading them wide. “Stay just like that.”

He pulled at your hips and slid your body down the length of the bed until you were just hanging off the edge. You whimpered at the touch of his tongue to your soaking pussy. Jax was lapping up every inch of you, and you could feel the pressure mounting between your legs in response. “Jax- fuck- please.” It was all too much. The kneading of your thighs beneath his fingers as he pulled you further into his mouth, his tongue circling and sucking and pulling your clit over and over and over and over. You were almost at the brink of relief when Jax pulled away, smirking at you from the bedside. “Ever since I saw you in that dress I wanted to have my head under it.” He hovered over you, licking his lips before planting them on yours, making you taste every drip of your drenched pussy. You couldn’t take much more.

“Don’t make me beg, Jax.” You could barely get the words out between the gasps of air and his relentless tongue encapsulating yours.

“You don’t have to beg darling’, I’m going to take you so fucking bad.”

Jax pulled his cock from his briefs and slid into you before you could even respond, pounding his length into you while pressing your neck with his hand, choking you into the bed. “Fuck- you’re- so- big.” Your eyes rolled in the back of your head at the fullness inside of you. You wrapped your hands around his arm securing his to your neck, craving more. He pushed his thumb into your mouth, holding it open as he repeatedly thrusted into you. “Show me what your mouth can do, baby.” You did as he said, sucking and caressing his thumb with your tongue as he lifted your legs from the bed, pulling him deeper inside you. You whimpered and bit on his thumb to stop the noises pouring from your throat, before he removed his hand from your neck. He leant down into you, kissing you while fucking you, pulling your dress to expose your breasts.

“Don’t need to be quiet in a sound proofed room babe. I want to hear you.” His words took you over the edge, and you came together simultaneously. Jax collapsed to your side.

“Holy fuck, Jax.” You couldn’t get anymore words out. He grinned at you as you giggled, embarrassed at your lack of words.

Jax kissed you before grabbing your ass and pulling you closer to him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Your cheeks at this point must’ve been the furthest shade of red imaginable. “I’m pretty sure this isn’t real.”

“Better believe it babe. And I’m not even done with you yet.”

#jax teller angst #jax teller smut #jax teller x reader #jax teller fluff #jax teller x y/n #sons of anarchy one shot #sons of anarchy #jax teller fiction #jax teller morrow #charlie hunnam #mayans x reader #mayans mc #sons of anarchy fic #sons of anarchy smut #jax teller #multifandom #smut #fan fiction #sister #best friends #+18 only #smut imagine #rough smut #angst #jax teller fan fic #jax teller one shot #fluff #jax teller y/n #jax teller imagine #reads whatever writes

[lidiasloca]

more than this (azriel x reader)

summary: after Azriel and reader had a summer together, the last thing Az was expecting was to face her again. (angst).

previous chapter

chapter six

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

You close the door behind you, and the sound of it reverberates across the loud silence.

You eye Azriel; he’s standing very still, looking at you expectantly, as if anticipating the first blow to be yours.

But after a while, he seems to understand you are expecting him to talk first.

“Elain - she told you something,” he says but it sounds like a question.

At that, you feel your jaw clench, your whole face tensing into trying so hard to not let tears fall. He sees that, or at least his shadows do; running near his ear, whispering things you cannot hear, nor wish to hear.

He takes a cautious step towards you. You instantly take a step back. “Y/n,” he breathes as if in pain. “Please, let me explain.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “You won’t dare deny it, will you?” you say, mustering raw sarcasm in your tone to disguise your hurt. “You won’t have come all this way to deny it.” Too soon you feel tears running down your cheek. “Right?”

You hate it, and you hate yourself for being so weak. But above it, you hate him.

Selfish, manipulative, hurtful, lying Azriel.

Someone you wish you hadn’t met.

Someone you wish had only stayed as a summer memory.

Nonetheless, you find yourself waiting for his answer like a fool. Hoping you’re wrong, very wrong. 

But you are not; you’re sure of that when he avoids your eyes, when he clenches his fists.

“Well, it’s pretty secret, -you know Azriel-, but we… sort of have something.”

“For how long?”

 “Somewhere in May.”

You try to stop a sob, putting your hand over your mouth swiftly. Closing your eyes tightly, not bearing the sight of him.

“Y/n,” you hear him whisper even though your ears are ringing, blurring the exterior sounds. 

Then you feel his hands on your shoulders, and it brings you back to here, to now, to him. 

You open your teary eyes, meeting with his, noticing the lack of life in them. Nothing similar to their hazel color during the summer.

“Y/n.”

Another sob passes your lips. “You lied. To me, to her - Azriel, you lied.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says sounding desperate.

“Why did you have to lie? I tru - I trusted you. She trusted you!” You try to talk, to let him know how much you hate him, but the pressure in your throat is making it quite impossible. And you know the tears all over your face make you look pathetic. “She was telling me how you taught her training stuff. Gods. She told me about you as I was looking her - looking her dead in the eye knowing damn well what I had done. What you had done!”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

“Stop saying that! You are not sorry at all; you don’t care at all. Not for me. I always was just a side ting. A toy. Never - never anything more to you. You have never cared.”

He moves his hand to your wet checks. “That’s not true. Y/n. That’s not true, I swear.”

I swear.

“You want me to believe you now? Really, Azriel?”

“I’m telling you the truth,” he replies, his eyes pleading. But you don’t buy it, not anymore. Especially not when his scarred fingers caress your face, coaxing you to calmness. “Stop lying! You were with her, you are still with her! You li-”

“I’m not with her anymore, Y/n,” he cuts you off. “And I’ve always cared for you. Always. So much that when I first met you - this past summer - I couldn’t stop myself.” You watch him struggle with words, trying to not duck his head at your glaring. “I had to know you. I had to. And after that night, I couldn’t keep myself away from you. I wanted to be with you all the time. And I knew if I only had that summer away, only that summer to be with you, I had to take the opportunity. And I selfishly did.”

You watch him incredulously, taking the words in.

“I’m so sorry. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you, Y/n, I swear. But when you came to the House of Wind - when I saw you again. Gods, I didn’t know what to do. I was so mad at myself - at the imminent consequences of my acts. And I - I hold that anger against you. And I’m so sorry; for that and for - for lying to you. I will be eternally sorry.”

It disgusts you; every single word he’s saying, the way he’s eyes scan your face, and especially, the way his hands cup your face. These same hands that weren’t meant to have touched you in the first place. It utterly disgusts you.

“Don’t touch me,” you whisper angrily. His touch falters but doesn’t back up. “Don’t touch me with those han-” The shout dies in your throat at the instant realization of your words.

But it’s too late.

He removes his scarred hands and hides them behind his back. And though it’s not what you had meant; never had you been anything but adoring of every part of him, especially his hands. So his. Hands that held a story of him he had told you with trust and comfort. You cannot help but feel glad you are hurting him back.

Maybe you’re just as depraved as him. 

“Don’t hate me, Y/n. Please.”

He deserves it, you make yourself think.

You dry your tears with your sleeves quickly and make yourself say, ignoring his previous words, “You’ve already explained yourself; now, go.”

He moves again closer to you. “Please don’t-”

“Go, Azriel! Just go,” you cut him.

“Ple-”

“Azriel, get out. Or I will make Helion drag you out of the court.”

“I have more to say,” he mutters, his voice suddenly dangerous. You know the mention of Helion is the reason. 

“I do not care.”

His eyes close but he doesn’t accept defeat. Not at all. “Gods - what do you want me to say?!” Your mouth parts in surprise at the angry tone he uses. He has no right - absolutely no right - to be mad. “What the hell do I have to say exactly for you to forgive me?!”

“Don’t you dare raise your voice, Azriel. I said go!”

“No.” He replies. “Don’t push me away.” He takes your wrist softly, but you try to pull away, failing as he catches it again, this time more restraining. “Y/n, you don’t understand, I-”

Then silence.

“You what?”

“I still cannot bear not being near you. Y/n, I’ve tried, but since that day, at the House of Wind, where I got to be close to you again, alone in that room, something - I felt… alive, lighter. And I had missed you so much, I realized. I don’t want to miss you anymore.”

As more tears threaten to fall, you consider backing off yourself. Leaving the room before you humiliate yourself. 

This, this was all you had ever wanted to hear. 

But not now, not anymore.

“Get out,” you breathe, staring at his eyes.

He is too close.

“You don’t want to listen. You don’t want to hear the truth,” he says slowly as if he didn’t want the words to actually get out.

“You know nothing about truth.” You reply, still feeling his scarred hand on your wrist. 

Azriel sighs as if in exhaustion. “What I did was so wrong; I know, and I will never forgive myself for hurting you that way. But, please, Y/n, you know me, I’ve told you everything, you know my heart; let’s not - please don’t waste this that we have.”

He had sure as hell not told you everything.

You glare at him. “We have nothing, Azriel. You said it yourself; ‘only one summer, then, nothing’.”

“I was so wron-.”

“It was your rule,” you interrupt him.

“It was!” He shouts, which makes you take a step backward, having him follow you immediately, towering over you as his hands still hold yours. You feel trapped. “It was a stupid rule I made for myself, 'cause no matter how much I wanted you, it was Elain who was supposed my mate! The third sister - It was supposed to be her.” His eyes then open in shock. “It was supposed to…”

Your breathing stops as you feel your heart break.

Wholly break.

He never deemed it possible for you to be his mate next to the Archeron sister.

But sadness doesn’t have a chance next to the bizarre feeling within your soul. It snaps you back to reality.

Azriel… 

Your mate.

“Y/n,” he breathes

“Get out,” you whisper for the hundredth time.

“No, Y/n, please; don’t do this.”

“Get out, please,” you plead, trying to get rid of his hold on your wrist, but it only makes him hold you tighter, walk even closer to you, till you have to tilt your head at a hurtful angle. 

“Don’t you feel it as well?” he asks.

Your mate.

“Get out.”

“Gods - Y/n, do not do this,” he cries, his face holding more emotion than it ever had. “Don’t ignore this. Don’t turn from us.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “There is no us. No matter what we are - no matter whatever, you made your choices. Choices that’ll condition everything. Choices that make us nothing.”

You watch tears cascading down his cheeks as he moves his other hand to hold you as well.

“Let go, Azriel, you’re hurting me,” you mumble.

But he doesn't seem to hear your words, as if in a trance. “I- please.” More tears start to fall from his pained eyes.

“I will call Helion in, Azriel; get out.”

“Don’t do this. Gods - Y/n, we are mates! How can-”

“Let me go, you’re hurti-”

“- you shove me away?” he continues over your protests. “I understand you are mad at me. But please just take your time to think. Don’t - don’t decide now. Please, Y/n. Just don’t turn from us.”

“No, Azriel!” He finally pays you attention, now that you are truly shouting. “I don’t want anything to do with you; a hurtful liar who hurts me just because he can. Who makes his choices abusing his power over others. I don’t want anything with you. I never will with a male like you.” 

He holds your gaze, his touch faltering yet still too tight. More tears fall every time he blinks. 

So you decide you have to do it; you have to make the last blow.

You have to ensure he hates you as much as you want to hate him.

So you spare a last glance at his hands on your wrists and then look up to him. “Maybe you’re just like your father, after all.”

And the aftermath it’s just blurry and vague; a memory you’d be better off forgetting. How more tears rolled down his shocked face. How his eyes lost all life in them. How he immediately moved his hands away from you as if your skin burned him. How he lingered in front of you for some seconds before he had it in himself to turn to the door.

How he left.

-Characters by Sarah J. Maas

HEY! IF YOU LIKED THIS, YOU CAN CHECK OUT MY AZRIEL MASTERLIST HERE <3

well, the best defense is a good offense, ig. i literally have been listening to "if i were a boy" on repeat as I wrote this lol. oh, and i did told you i was inspired by august by taylor swift - so.

tag list:

@kalulakunundrum @bubybubsters @goradgirl @kennedy-brooke @going-through-shit @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @linoisqt @minakay @nastynesta @lockedinmytower @stargirl1714 @justagingerliving @marvelpotter @mommyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @mis-lil-red@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @e-dollly @emptyporsche

#azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel #azriel x female!reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #acotar fic #azriel fanfic #azriel fic #az imagine #azriel imagine

[llamagoddessofficial]

@mothiepixie's art has dragged me kicking & screaming back into my Death God Sans obsession

so here's a concept I've been rolling around in my head for an updated scaryboy...

---

He was cloaked, head to toe, in black. Sweeping robes, black as the night, that seemed to draw in any light around them. Though delicate chains of silver decorated his shoulders and waistline, he had nowhere near the degree of finery one would expect from such an ancient and powerful being.

... He looked over his shoulder at your approach. His face was veiled. The veil itself was beautiful, as black as his cloak, the edges embroidered with fine thread that caught the light like stars. No one had ever survived glimpsing beneath that veil. Legends told of curious Gods peering when they should not- being driven mad instantly upon seeing the face of Death.

Immortals simply were not made to comprehend their existence coming to an end.

“... what a pleasant surprise.” He mused. “hello, little goddess.”

“S-Sans.” You couldn’t look at him long. “I-I... want to talk...”

... A sigh escaped him. He turned to you, fully, a great figure of black ash and silence. When he spoke, he sounded... regretful.

“of course you do.”

“I-it’s... it’s my friend. A nymph. She’s...”

He spoke gently. “i know what you're going to ask, so please do not ask me. i don’t want to have to refuse you.”

You didn't know why Sans had a soft spot for you. Other Gods and Goddesses had attempted to befriend him, attempted to gain his favour. They were always rebuffed- sometimes aggressively. You were the only one whose friendliness he ever reciprocated.

“She’s going to die." You almost choked on your words. "There... there must be something you can do, I...”

“i can’t.” His words carried the finality of someone who had been asked this question more times than he could count. “if i make one exception, the world will know. and then i’ll have to make a hundred more.”

The hope was draining from you. This is what you had feared most. “I-I won’t tell anyone. I... Please.”

“there are rules i have never bent.” He said, softly. “i cannot start now.”

...

You looked away. Though you knew you had no right to, considering he was only doing what he'd been made to do, you still felt hurt. “... I suppose you’ve had this conversation many times.”

A pause.

“... yes.”

“After a while it must get amusing.”

The veil shifted, slightly.

“i know you did not mean that.”

... You immediately felt regret biting at the back of your tongue. Of course he wouldn't be amused, what a horrible thing for you to say. He didn't choose this existence- and he certainly didn't choose to have his heart hardened by centuries of desperate people clawing at the bottom of his robes.

“... I’m sorry." You said, small. "I shouldn’t have come.”

...

“wait.”

In an instant, Sans was far closer to you, close enough that you could reach out and trace your hands across his robes. Great black wings, each taller than you, circled you; the veil fluttered for a moment, you thought you saw something glint beneath them that definitely wasn’t the light glancing off the fine silver embroidery. 

“... there is a way.”

You stopped, heart jumping in a mixture of hope, and apprehension at his proximity. His aura was overpowering. “There is?”

“making exceptions for the way my soul turns would not be acceptable." His head tilted. "however... making exceptions for kin...”

You wished you could see his face. Anything to clue you as to you what was going on. “... Kin?”

“your friend would be my kin, if you were my wife.”

... 

Your jumping heart stopped in your chest.

“... Your... wife.”

“it would be in name only. i cannot give you children. and... i would understand if you sought intimacy elsewhere.”

You felt yourself tearing up. You didn’t understand. “But... what’s the point, then? Why would you want me as a wife, if you know I won’t give you affection or children?” 

“do we have a deal?”

...

What other choice did you have? He could probably see it written all over your face.

“close your eyes.” He said, softly.

... You did. 

You heard nothing. But you felt something draw close, you felt that overwhelming aura intensity, a power that drifted across your skin like spiderwebs... it smelled like obsidian, in your mind’s eye it was the deepest shade of midnight. 

A hand on the small of your back. 

“do not open them.” His voice was so near. So near you felt it in your chest and throat.

... So near, that when you heard the sound of thin fabric being lifted, you could almost count the threads.

Breath against your cheeks. Instinctively, your hands came up, catching in his silken robes. Your frozen heart started pounding all over again.

... Pressure, on your lips. Gentle, warm, much warmer than you expected. The barest, softest touch... but it lingered long enough for you to sense that it was the touch of someone who was restraining themselves.

You didn't expect the kiss of Death to feel so loving.

As fast he had come, the warmth retreated from your lips, the hand retreated from your back. His cloak slipped out of your grip.

...

You opened your eyes. Sans was a few feet away from you.

... You didn’t need to be able to see his face to know he was smiling.

#llama writes #no ulterior motives here at all folks

[potofstewie]

Reward Me

The Lowdown: Kyojuro is a really good boy! He fights evil, helps those in need and is forever at the feet of his Mistress! But, OH, won't she reward him for a job well done?

The Things to know: dom!fem!reader, whiny kyo, orgasm denial, handjob, teasing

Pairing: Rengoku K. x dom!fem!reader

W/C: >1k

A/N: Hellooo, everynyan, how are you? Fine, thank you. Oh my gahh. This is a late Birthday Gift to the ever so lovely, ever so dom, @vampcubus. Huge shoutout to @renhoeku for being the partner we all aspire to be, your love and care for Ashi is absolutely inspiring and I enjoy seeing you guys act like lovebirds on the dash lmao. Happy Birthday, Ashi! I hope you enjoy this and that your birthday is/was a spectacular one! I'm so sorry this is late, assignments were and still are riding my back

“P-please, y/n..lemme, lemme cum..” The whiny plea your boyfriend gave did nothing but evoke a dangerous smile from you. Kyojuro finally came back from a month long mission and instantly wanted to be rewarded for his job well done saving civilians and being an effective soldier in the war against demons. But you, on the other hand, wanted him to work a little bit more for his reward. Cooing softly, you slowed your hand down that was pumping Kyojuro’s needy and leaky cock, relishing in the protesting whimpers that escaped his throat. 

“Mm, mm-mm baby. Not yet, I wish to see how long you can hold out for..” You purred, eyes watching as his hips twitched upwards into your warm and precum covered palm. A nervous shiver traveled down his spine as he realized the grave mistake he made. You didn’t want him to fuck your hand. You didn’t want him to disobey your very clear order and yet that’s exactly what he did. As clammy hands gripped the sheets besides his legs, Kyojuro’s ears perked at the soft tutting from your mouth. “Oh, Kyo, I thought you were a good boy. Good boys always follow orders. We’re gonna have to fix that…anomaly, of yours.” 

Before Kyojuro could plead once more for his long awaited release, your hand stopped moving, finding its place right at his reddened tip. With a swift motion, your thumb languidly ran itself over his leaky slit; thumb lightly pressing down in intervals. Choked out whimpers and moans tumbled from the flame hashira as you tortured his cock, eyes deliriously looking everywhere as the pleasurable feeling took over his body. “Y/n, fuck- please, I won’t do it again j-just, lemme cuum..” His slurred words ended in a drawn out moan as your tongue ran itself over his tip, the sweet yet salty undertone precum settling on your tongue. With a moan you lifted your head, lips gently touching his tip.

“You really wanna cum, Kyo?” You teased softly, Kyojuro immediately reacting with his head shaking lazily. Humming in approval, your hand began to pump him once more but faster, mouth encasing and sucking on his rusty pink tip. Kyojuro’s head craned back on the sweat drenched pillow as his moans grew louder; hips subconsciously bucking up into your hand once more. You made a mental note to yourself to reprimand him of his action, but for now you’d allow it. Hollowing out your cheeks, your pussy throbbed at a loud groan that rumbled from your delirious boyfriend. 

“I’m gonna, fuck, I’m gonna cum. Don’t stop…don’t, don’t stop baby please..” Kyojuro begged, the overwhelming feeling of his orgasm teetering on the edge. Just before he could finally taste the moment he’d been waiting for, you stopped your actions; hand and mouth leaving his cock entirely as you sat up and chuckled. Furrowed and knit eyebrows dawned on his face as he soaked in your clear mocking. A whimper caught in his throat as he finally realized your plan. You were never gonna let him cum this early, you were above that. As if in slow motion, he watched as your devious smile grew bigger and hand hovering mere millimeters from his cock. 

“C’mon, baby, you still have a long way to go.”

ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ʙɪɴᴅ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏᴛᴏꜰꜱᴛᴇᴡɪᴇ™ 2023

#rengoku kyojuro x reader #rengoku kyojuro x yn #rengoku x reader #demon slayer rengoku #demon slayer kyojuro #demon slayer smut #kny rengoku #kny smut #rengoku smut #original stew

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Shrinking Violet (Rhysand Smut)

Hi! Happy Friday, my loves! I impulsively wrote this first thing this morning. Don’t exactly know what came over me but I thought I would share it 😏

Also, I’m using my updated General ACOTAR Tag List for the tags, so if you’re not on it and you wish to be, please click the link and comment so I can add you! ♥️

Warnings: Smut, of course! Enjoy!

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The violet-shaded dress had seemed like a good idea at the time. A time when you’d felt daring and mischievous and like you could do whatever the fuck you wanted. 

Now, with a tight-lipped servant tugging your corset strings as you stared yourself down in the mirror, your audacious nature was refusing to rear its head, scattered to the ashes by nerves. 

“I wish to have a gown the exact shade of Rhysand’s eyes.”

Rina, your good friend and the Hewn City’s most reputable seamstress, had looked up at you from the various sketches on her dress. She was snowed-under with orders with the upcoming event — Rhysand’s first visit as High Lord of the Night Court. It was nothing short of a damn coronation.

“Are you sure you should?” Rina had raised an eyebrow at you. The look she always got when you were up to something. “He’s High Lord, now. Things are different. Should you truly make a statement with your gown that most certainly won’t go unnoticed?”

“Should I not?” You’d spun around, palming the various fabrics that made up an entire wall at the back of the studio. “High Lord he may now be, but I know Rhysand more personally. I wish to have a violet gown that is an ode to those depthless eyes.”

Rina had shook her head, but said no more on the matter. You were paying — well, your father was — and you had a design in mind. That was that. She’d known you long enough to know that there was no talking you down from an elaborate idea.

Besides. Besides, besides, besides. You did know Rhysand more personally. 

More personally, in the form of him secretly fucking you in the darkest corners of the Hewn City, when he had just been the High Lord’s handsome son, learning the ways of the court. You were his filthy little secret, someone he would never display publicly on his arm. Would never think of you beyond the haze of lust that clouded him. Perhaps that was what the dress was secretly about. Capturing his attention.

Things had changed dramatically since he’d last had you pressed against a wall, a hand to your mouth to muffle your moans as he’d pounded into you. He was always ravenous for you behind closed doors and totally different in the open. A game — it was a game the two of you played.

But he was High Lord, now. You were excited to see what that looked like. 

Violet gown, indeed. You smoothed your hands over the tight bodice as the servant stepped away. As the daughter of a member of the Night Court council, you would be expected to look every bit the rich, expensive, pretty subject who would bat her eyes at the new High Lord and offer polite well-wishes for his future. 

While wearing a gown so tight it was like a second skin, the very daring shade of his eyes. 

Anything to keep those eyes on you.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Rhysand had been trained for this, of course. Right down to the finest detail. Any outsider looking in would presume him to have been High Lord for far longer than a matter of months. There was something effortlessly arrogant about the way he lounged on his obsidian throne, one leg hooked over the arm, a chalice of wine in his hand that was constantly being topped up. 

He was the centre of attention, and he was loving every second of it. 

You’d never seen the instating of a new High Lord. Rhysand’s father had been on that throne for your entire life, until he’d gone and gotten himself killed. And now…now it was time for a fresh face. One with a feline smirk and a lilting voice behind it that sounded like music. 

You knew precisely what that voice sounded like when he was close to falling off the edge. 

You hadn’t yet spoken to him or caught his gaze. The evening’s proceedings had been fine-tuned to run smoothly; food and drink and music and dancing. Now, a long line of people queued up to the dais, forcing Rhysand to listen to the same sentence on a loop with every person who knelt before him. 

I welcome you, High Lord, and pledge my allegiance to you as your loyal subject. 

The words had become a monotonous drone. You wanted to spin around in your violet gown and make a show of yourself and catch the High Lord’s gaze. You wanted to be adventurous and fun, just like you and Rhys had always secretly been. 

Your father went before you, prattling off the same oath as those who’d gone before him. He and Rhys exchanged pleasantries, and Rhys’s voice seemed to snake past your father and round to you, caressing every bit of your skin that was on show. The sound was like silk. You wanted to tear your dress off and wrap it around your naked body. 

After what seemed like an eternity, your father was stepping aside and leaving you to wander up to the dais. Feline eyes met yours, the exact shade of your gown that felt suddenly too tight and too hot on your body. You gave a polite acknowledgement to the two Illyrians at the High Lord’s side — Azriel and Cassian — before you offered a flourishing bow.

“I welcome you, High Lord, and pledge my allegiance to you as your loyal subject.” You spoke, your voice slightly lowered. Just for him. 

Rhys’s eyes slowly studied every inch of you, starting at your hair, your painted face, the heavy jewellery that complimented the column of your neck and the lobes of your ears. And then they flicked down to the gown, studying the beaded detail. The way it sinfully clung to your body before flaring around you in layers of violet tulle. 

Heat flashed across those eyes, and you knew — he’d clocked exactly what you’d done.

“Good evening.” He drawled, his head falling on a tilt. His hungry gaze roved you once more. “And what have you come as?”

A subtle smirk tugged at your painted lips. “A shrinking violet.”

The High Lord tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. You wanted to drag it between your teeth, too. 

“There’s nothing shrinking about you, darling.” He purred. He took your hand in his, brushing his lips to the backs of your fingers. “Enjoy your night.”

A dismissal. A teasing one. It was all part of the game. His eyes fell to your gown again, and you spared him one last glance before flouncing away to dance. 

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You liked this game — yours and Rhysand’s.

Dark, shaded alcoves and long, winding corridors, perfect for a session of cat-and-mouse. Huge, unoccupied rooms, the walls of which volleyed your moans back and forth. You’d played the game a hundred times before, and you wanted to play it tonight. 

The party was unending, and so was the flowing wine. All part of the game. When Rhys had merely been the High Lord’s son, his apprentice, the two of you had always waited until everyone was gloriously intoxicated before you would share a heated glance and slip away — you first, and him following moments later. 

The night had reached that point. The frenzied music had become languid and sensuous, the bodies on the dance floor grinding against each other. Not one person in that throne room was sober. And so you set your drink aside. 

You strolled casually past the dais, shrugging out of the numerous dances people tried to pull you into. Rhys’s gaze seemed to find you immediately, and as you passed in front of him, you met his eyes and dipped your chin. The signal. The game was starting. 

But he was High Lord, now. Far more scrutinised and important. Perhaps he wouldn’t follow. Perhaps he was done with your antics—

Mere moments passed between you slipping into an empty corridor and the door opening behind you. A smirk played on your lips. You lifted the skirts of your gown. Kicked your heels off. And ran. 

Your feet slapped against the cold concrete floor as you sprinted away from Rhys. A dark, lilting chortle echoed behind you, and his pace picked up as ran after you. 

You were light as a feather, weightless as a cloud, shoving through doors and empty rooms, skidding along polished floors, climbing huge, ornate staircases. Rhys was always a few steps behind, and you knew he could easily catch up if he wanted to. But he savoured the chase as much as you did. 

You flew up another grand staircase, up and up to the very top of the gargantuan building. You knew precisely what you were doing, and so did Rhys. You took a left, veered down a long corridor. A dead-end. The door at the end led to an enclosed room.

“Where do you suppose you’ll go now, little violet?” Rhys called behind you, his breaths heavy. “I do believe I’ve caught you.”

Indeed, he had. You laughed wildly and opened your mouth to retort, but your already-huffing breaths were stolen from you as his body smacked into yours from behind, slamming you against the door. The wood groaned as he pressed his front to your back. The evidence of his arousal was already waiting for you. 

“Got you.” He hummed into your ear, his nose brushing your neck. “Now, what’s my prize?”

You bit down on your lip as he pushed his groin against you. “Your prize is whatever you wish it to be.”

“Excellent.”

He reached past you, opening the door to that unoccupied, echoing room. His hand splayed over the bodice of your dress, keeping your body flush to his as he walked you both inside. 

“I think I would have you against the wall.” His hand travelled down, fisting in the skirts of your gown. “Or perhaps on the writing bureau. Or the chaise lounge. Tell me, which would take your fancy?”

“Why not all of them?” You bit down on your bottom lip as his hand finally found a way under the fabric, skirting your thigh. 

“Naughty, wicked thing. Why not, indeed.”

You were suddenly being spun in his arms to face him, and there was barely a chance for your eyes to meet before he was claiming your lips with a scorching kiss and backing you towards the wall. Your back hit it with a light thud, and Rhys was boxing you in, settling his knee between your legs and very deliberately pressing it against the very centre of you. 

“You know,” he purred as he broke the kiss. “My father used to tell me to stay far away from you. He said that I should find a female fit to pop out heirs. That females like you like to play games.”

You sucked in a breath as his fingers brushed your neck. Crawled downwards. “Your father would be right about that.”

“Hmm.” He hummed. “But, you see, I like to play games, too. And the bastard is dead now. I am High Lord. Your High Lord. And I’m feeling mighty playful tonight.”

His knee pressed harder against your soaked underwear, and a soft moan slipped past your lips. 

“So play,” you said. 

Rhys struck. 

In a flash, he was sinking to his knees before you. Like you were his High Lady. He lifted the skirts of your gown, throwing them over his head. The sight of him disappearing beneath the fabric might have been amusing had his nose not nudged against your centre, causing you to jerk. 

“Now this,” he yanked your underwear down, blowing a breath against your slick folds, “this is a feast fit for a High Lord.”

His silver, sinful tongue licked a stripe right up you, and your head fell back against the wall, a loud moan breaking free of your throat. Rhys wasted no time in feasting on you. He licked and lapped, his teeth grazing your clit, and you imagined what he must look like beneath your skirts, his face flushed and soaked with your wetness. 

“I love your taste.” He groaned against you, sucking on your clit. “You have no fucking idea how much.”

Perhaps not. But you could hazard a pretty good guess just how much as he damn near devoured you, bringing you to the very brink of bliss. When he heard your moans and breaths hitching in your throat, felt your hips jutting forward, he sank two fingersinto you. 

“Gods,” You gasped, writhing against him, against the wall. Your mind fractured into a thousand tiny pieces as your release slammed into you. Your legs shook.

Rhys licked and pumped all through it, enjoying every moment, every gasp and groan. Only when your walls ceased their contracting around his fingers did he pull away. 

He emerged from beneath the fabric, his hair tousled, his eyes heated. His mouth swollen and glistening. One look at him, and you were fisting your hand around the front of his perfectly-tailored jacket, yanking him to his feet. 

You wanted to taste him just as he had tasted you, but he stopped you from lowering yourself to your knees. His hand grasped your clothed breast, and he kissed you deeply, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

You were bored of the dress, now. Pretty as it was, just like his eyes, it was too much of a barrier. You tried to reach behind you for the laces—

“No.” Rhys nipped your lip, staying your hand. “I want you to wear it while I fuck you.”

Your eyes flared. “As you wish.” You glanced down at his lips. “High Lord.”

A guttural groan escaped him, and the tether on his control snapped. The following moments were a confusing, heady circus of heavy kisses and panting into each others mouths, both your hands fighting to undo the laces and buttons of his trousers. As soon as they were loosened enough, he was shoving them to the floor. 

“I think about you, you know.” Rhys said, hissing between his teeth as you wrapped your hand around his length. “I come to the thought of you. How do you manage to make a mess out of me without even being there?”

“Because I wish it to be so.” You squeezed gently. “And so it is.”

“Wicked, wicked creature.”

You silenced him with a kiss as you pumped his cock, savouring the feel of it twitching in your palm, jerking at the very brush of your touch. Rhys emitted a growl, and he was batting your hand away, replacing it with his own.

“If I don’t get inside you,” he dragged the head of his cock through your slick folds, “I think I may bring this city down around us.”

His eyes held a promise to do exactly that, and as the head nudged at your entrance, he grabbed the back of your neck, sliding his lips over yours.

The tip had barely slipped in before thudding footsteps approached, and a knock was pounding on the door. Rhys growled beneath his breath. Ignored it. Pushed into you further. You gasped. 

“Rhys.” Cassian’s voice came from the other side. 

“Not now, Cassian.” Rhys thrust into you, right to the hilt, giving a very audible grunt. 

“You’ve been gone for too long.” The Illyrian general persisted. “People are starting to notice.”

“Not fucking now, Cassian.” 

He pulled out to the tip, his angry words breathed against your mouth. You swallowed them greedily as he thrust right back into you once more, a slight pinch of pain within the pleasure that wrangled a loud moan from your throat.

There was a pause on the other side of the door, a curse — Cassian muttering “Cauldron fucking boil me” — before his footsteps retreated once more.

“Look at you,” you nipped Rhys’s lip. “Keeping your loyal subjects waiting.”

“I am.” He shifted, slamming into you again. “For you.”

Your response because lost amongst the pleasure as Rhys fastened his hand at your hips and lifted you from the floor. 

“Wrap your legs around me,” he commanded deeply. “And hold on.”

You did just that, your legs locking around his waist, your arms around his neck. Rhys pressed his head against your shoulder, his teeth grazing the skin there. 

And he fucked.

“Gods, you feel exquisite.” He groaned, slamming into you harder, faster. “I could spend the rest of my existence buried inside you.”

You moaned, your head falling back. You felt his tongue against the column of your neck. “That seems like a foolish way for a High Lord to spend his time.”

“Nothing about this is foolish.”

He was damn right about that. Words eddied away from your tongues, the room being filled with moans and grunts and gasps and screams. Rhys filled you so utterly, so completely, that you couldn’t imagine anyone else being able to do so. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He grit out, reaching down to circle his thumb against your clit. “I wish you could see yourself right now. Coming undone for me. Coming on my cock.”

“Fuck, Rhys.” You gasped. They were the only words you were able to get out before he sent you hurtling over the edge. 

The fall of your second climax was euphoric, addictive. You were hot and cold, asleep and awake, present and absent, lost somewhere in the ether. Your moans filled the room, perhaps the whole building, the entire city, as your walls clenched his cock hard, his thumb continuing the ministrations to your clit. 

Rhys’s thrusts picked up, the pace frenzied and desperate. You could feel him tightening inside you, hear his breaths and grunts hitching in his throat, the pleasure furrowing his brow. You purposefully clenched around him once more, and he lost it.

“Gods!” He roared, stifling the sound with a hungry kiss to your lips. His hips stilled abruptly, and he was spilling into you, every last drop filling you.

It seemed like ages that he spent moaning and groaning and whining, emitting needy little noises, drawing out a few more languid thrusts despite having emptied himself entirely into you. He was completely at your mercy. Undone by you.

He was your High Lord, and yet tonight, you had ruled him. 

He was still breathing heavily as he pulled out of you. His eyes locked with yours, and a strange, indiscernible expression crossed his face.

“Come back to Velaris with me.” He breathed. 

You snorted. This was all part of the game, the continued teasing. You liked that a lot. 

“Would you give me a crown?” You jibed.

Rhys’s eyes glittered. “Only if I could fuck you in it.”

You smirked, toying with the lapels of his jacket. “And what of your throne? Would you fuck me on there?”

“I would fuck you in every last corner of my city. Over and over until my people have committed our moans to memory.”

Such a poetic, silver-tongued male. Your smirk remained as you let go of him, but he was having none of it. He clutched you against him.

“Come back to Velaris with me.” He repeated. 

You smiled vaguely. “No.” 

“You could live however your heart desires. We could play there, too.”

Your laughter was light, airy. You pushed him off, squirming out of his grasp. “Such pretty words.”

His hand caught yours, and he pressed it to his chest. “Come back to Velaris with me.”

“No.” You said again. 

You smirked at him, and he smirked back. And as you leaned in, he slammed his eyes shut, bracing himself for your kiss. 

You didn’t deliver. You merely swiped your thumb over his lips, erasing the evidence of you ever having been there. 

“Until next time,” you hummed. “High Lord.”

You finally pushed around him, smoothing your dress as you passed, your bare feet padding on the floor. 

“This is inconvenient.” Rhys called as you braced your hand on the door handle. 

You glanced over your shoulder. “What’s that?”

“I am your High Lord. But hearing you call me such makes me desperate to bury myself deep inside you again.”

A soft trill of a laugh left you, and you turned your back on him, opening the door. “Don’t be greedy.”

You stepped out without looking back. That was how this wicked, glorious thing between you went. The best thing you could do to not make it hurt so much when he ignored you before his subjects. Rhys being High Lord hadn’t changed that. Nor had it taken away the mischievous, playful male with honeyed words that you knew him to be. But walking away like that, you had the power.

His laughter followed you down the hall, and you smirked one more.

High Lord, indeed. 

You both knew his control had been obliterated at the first sight of you in that violet dress. 

A gown the exact shade of Rhysand’s eyes.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

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