#but then something comes up where i HAVE to spend it and then it’s all downhill from there

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

the pro

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.

Notes: My brain chose violence this morning. Not beta-read because when is it ever.

Length: 4.8K

Warnings: Slow burn; unhappily married reader; divorced Art Donaldson; infidelity; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal sex; unsafe sex

Summary: Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.

He's the biggest men's tennis star since Andy Roddick.

That’s what your husband says, as if it’ll entice you. As if you know anything about tennis, about the pro that your husband says will be coming to the house to teach you to play.

It’ll be good for you. You need a hobby. 

You don’t gripe or argue. You don’t tell him that five months into your marriage shouldn’t have you looking for a new hobby. You should still be in the honeymoon stage, spending all of your time with him, hanging off of his arm, off of his every word. But he works so much and he’s away so often—

I don’t want you to get bored. 

It’s a sweet gesture. The maid handles the housework; you have a chef that handles most of the grocery shopping and cooking, unless you insist on making something yourself; you have a housekeeper that arranges for anything you need—dry cleaning, maintenance. And it’s no wonder that with all of his money, his power, he can just order a retired pro tennis player up to your house, like you’d order a pizza. There’s a tennis court in the back of the mansion, a few feet from the pool. You’ll get some new outfits, the best sneakers, the nicest rackets. You’ll finally have something to do to fill your days. 

Art Donaldson. 

You know his name before the lean, fair-skinned patrician man turns up at your front door. He trails you through the house, politely declines your offer of a beverage. 

“You ever played tennis before?” He asks. 

You haven’t. Before your husband arranged this for you, you hadn’t so much as given the sport more than a passing thought. You don’t have the heart or confidence to tell that to a man that’s made tennis his whole life, so you just give him a small, guilty smile and say no, you haven’t. He nods, waves you off, insists that it’s fine. 

“We’ll start with the basics.” 

-- 

Two months of lessons on the basics make your arms tired, and your hands sore. But where your swings are clumsy and your grip is weak at first, you can see improvement in the way that you move. Your steps are less clumsy when you go after a ball; you’re more aware of the service line and the base line; your forehand stroke from contact to your left shoulder is smoother; your rotation and follow-through on your backhand is coming along, but has a long way to go. 

Art’s instruction is calm and steady. He explains technique as much as he demonstrates it. When you get something wrong, he doesn’t scold, just lightly corrects. When you do something well, his encouragement is constant and free-flowing. Every accurate move and motion is met with, “Nice,” or, “Perfect,” or, “That’s it.” 

On the days when you don’t have a lesson with Art, you practice. You order a tennis ball machine to work on your forehand and backhand. You attempt (and fail) to learn how to slice on your own. You try anyway—you can only imagine the way his eyes might light up if you manage to surprise him. 

You’ve tried to ignore the rising interest that you have in Art, but you can’t help the little…Crush that’s developed. He’s just so attentive, and kind. When you find yourself smiling these days, it’s often because of something that he said, or did. You can’t remember the last time your husband made you feel giddy this way. It was probably when you started dating—before you’d made the decision to marry for comfort, rather than love. Your husband is practical, rarely physically affectionate, more heavily involved in his job and social circles than with you. 

But you’ll have to find a way to thank him. He’s given you a hobby, and a man that grins at you like you just painted the goddamn Mona Lisa when you serve your first ace. 

-- 

“So, tell me about the Mark Rebellato Academy.” 

Art smiles, dipping his head as he reaches for his coffee. It’s taken a few months, but you finally convince him to have something to drink with you after practice. Your chef is blessedly out shopping for ingredients for dinner, so you have the kitchen all to yourself. Art has watched you putter around, seeming surprised that you know where everything is. You can’t blame him; the kitchen is chef-grade, and you don’t cook much these days. 

“Did your husband tell you that’s where I went?” 

“No.” 

“Then how do you know?” 

You’re too embarrassed to admit that you’ve done some googling, and watched a couple of clips of him interviewing before and after his matches. 

“I’ve just heard,” You fib. “Tell me about it?” 

He leans back in his seat, eyes skating across your face as he seems to consider something. 

“What do you wanna know?” 

“Did you enjoy it? I mean—” It feels like a dumb question once it’s out, and you hurry to redirect, “With what you know now, if you had the choice, would you have learned how to play tennis somewhere else?” 

He considers for a moment, trailing his finger over the side of his cup. Your gaze flits to his fingers, and your own flex around your mug handle. You’ve spent far too much time looking at and thinking about Art’s fingers—their length and quickness; the slight roughness of his calloused hands; the lingering tan line from where his wedding band used to sit. 

“Yeah,” He admits, drawing your full attention back to his face. “I would. It was foundational, you know. I’ve been thinking of sending Lily there.” 

“Lily?” 

A bittersweet smile twists his lips. “My daughter.” 

“Oh!” It catches you off-guard.  

“Tashi, uh—” He clears his throat, “Lily’s mother, my ex-wife. She and I are thinking about schools.” 

“I’m sure they’d be glad to have her. Does she play tennis?” 

“Little bit. She didn’t start until last year, but she's a natural.” He clears his throat again, presses, “Are you and your husband planning on having kids?” 

“Oh god no.” You blurt it out, and realize as he raises his brows that you’ve spoken too quickly. You lean back in your seat, stirring your coffee quickly to distract yourself from your growing embarrassment. “He actually has kids already. Two girls, seven and ten. They’re at boarding school and they stay with their mother when they're on vacation. I haven’t gotten to spend much time with them.” 

“...He seems to be pretty busy.” 

“He is.” 

“So it’s just you in this big house?” He tips his head to the side, brows knitting with curiosity. “What do you do all day?” 

“Play tennis.”

He grins, chuckling, and your stomach flips at the sound. 

“It shows, you know,” He says. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I can tell you’re practicing without me. And,” He leans across the table, running his fingers lightly over the exposed skin of your bicep, “You’re getting stronger.” 

You wonder if he can see or feel the goosebumps that break out across your skin at the gentle sweep, his gaze heavy on yours.

“I have a good teacher,” You murmur. Art’s lips twitch with a soft smile, his hand gently cupping your arm. 

“Just good?” He plies. 

“The best. A real pro.” 

His smile widens, and the flash of his tongue sweeping across his lower lip makes your face go hot. You know that you’re caught when Art’s touch becomes firmer, pulling your arm toward him just a little. 

The sound of approaching footsteps startles you, and you hurriedly tug your arm away. The sight of your husband makes your heart leap into your throat. 

“There you are,” He smiles. “Art, how’s she doin’?” 

“She’s killing it.” 

You don’t dare look at him, but you can feel the weight of his attention lingering on you still. You just give your husband a smile, tipping your cheek up obligingly as he leans down to kiss it. 

“Actually, Art,” Your husband straightens up, hands resting on your shoulders. “I’m glad I caught you. There’s a charity event for a local club this month. It’s for uh…What is it?” He squeezes your shoulders for answers, and you have to keep from rolling your eyes. 

“It’s a charity tennis match to raise funds to fix up the local courts. They need resurfacing and they’re raising funding to keep the fees down.” 

“We could use a sponsorship from the foundation,” Your husband adds. 

“Honey,” You glance back, wary of insulting Art. But—

“I’ll do it,” Art agrees. “Send me the details.” 

“Excellent,” Your husband grins. “Maybe we could coax you into a match or two.” 

You don’t chastise him this time—not when you see something light up in Art.

“Maybe.” 

--  

You haven’t seen Art play before. You’ve specifically avoided it. You’ve known that when you saw it, you would be too intimidated to do a damn thing on the court with him. But now, you can’t stop watching him. You don’t even care that you probably look so out of place—where everyone else is watching the ball, you’re just watching him. 

His movements are so neat, so precise. It’s like watching a dance. He’s running the poor guy on the other side of the net up and down the court. And the sounds that he’s making—god. Every little grunt and groan is weaving increasingly filthy thoughts in your mind. You already know that you’ll seek out the memory of those sounds, as you reach between your legs later. His shirt clings to his chest, showcasing the muscles that you’ve always suspected he has. Strands of hair plaster to his forehead as sweat drips over his cheekbones, down the bridge of his nose, over his jaw. 

When he scores a match point and he looks toward the cheering crowd—when his eyes land on you instantly, without having to search—it’s like you’ve been hit by a bolt of lightning. You can’t think, or move. You barely have the focus to applaud, but you manage to raise your hands and clap. 

-- 

Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch. 

Coffee becomes a post-lesson ritual. He starts to stick closer and closer to you as he follows you into the house until he begins to rest his hand on your lower back, guiding you to your door. He keeps nearby when you’re making it, brushes droplets of sweat off of your forehead or neck. Every touch is electrifying; you have to make a concentrated effort to keep your hands steady, your face neutral as your heart pounds and your stomach floods with butterflies. 

He pushes you harder on the court, and you force yourself to meet the level that he sets for you, even when you don’t feel confident in it. But you want to make him proud. 

It spurs you to lunge a little too far. 

The sharp stabbing pain in your left ankle makes you shriek, and you tumble to the ground, dropping the racket with a clatter. You hear the pounding of his feet, glance up just in time to see him clear the net before he’s on the ground at your side. 

“What hurts?” 

“My ankle,” You grit out, hissing softly as he helps you straighten your leg out. He smooths his hands over your calf, leaning over you and gently guiding your foot in a few different directions. You whimper as he starts to guide your foot to the left. 

“Okay, okay,” He soothes, “Let’s get you inside.” 

For as much as you damn the throbbing in your ankle, you thank it a little, too. You lean heavily against Art, making the slow, arduous journey back to the house with his arm wrapped tightly around your middle. 

When your husband comes home, he finds you with on the couch with Art coming back in from the kitchen, an ice pack in your hand. 

You’d hope for concern, but your husband frowns, glances at the swelling knob of your ankle, and simply asks: “What did you do?” 

“She lost her balance.” Art sits down on the other end of the couch, soothing you as the chill of the ice pack makes you shift with discomfort. 

“Are you going to be able to walk tomorrow?” Your husband presses. “We have dinner at the Fineman’s.”

“I'm still going, don't worry about that."

“...Tomorrow might be a bit soon,” Art warns. 

“I’ll be okay. It’s just a sprain, right?” You tip your brows up, hoping, praying that he’ll agree for your sake. His fingers flex around the ice pack, jaw ticking as he clenches it. He doesn’t say a word as your husband sighs heavily, grumbles, “I hope so. Still, we should put a pause on the lessons until she’s fighting fit again.” 

Art finally tears his eyes from yours, a tight smile on his lips. 

“Of course.” 

-- 

“How’s the ankle?” 

It takes you a moment to scrounge up an answer. You can’t believe that he called. You knew that Art had gotten your number when you started taking lessons with him, but he’s never used it beyond texting to confirm a lesson time now and again. 

You look down at the still-swollen flesh as it strains against the thin strap of your slingbacks. 

“Fine,” You lie, “It’s um—” You glance over your shoulder, listening for your husband. “It’s not that bad.” 

“Good enough to walk on?” 

Hardly. 

“Yes.” You think you’ve gotten away with it, but when you hear Art sigh and chastise, “You should rest,” You know that you haven’t.

“I have,” You insist, “All day.” 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“Yes.” 

“You can tell him no, you know.”

Your mouth works wordlessly, body going hot with indignation. You can’t think of a thing to say. You can’t tell him that he’s wrong, that your husband’s connections are the lifeblood of his business. You can’t tell him that if your husband’s business falls apart, you won't be able to afford those tennis lessons, and then how the hell are you supposed to see Art again? 

You just yank your phone away from your ear and hang up. 

-- 

I invited Art. 

It shouldn’t be a surprise, but your husband’s statement makes you feel like you’ve swallowed your tongue. You haven’t seen or spoken to Art in nearly two weeks. Your doctor recommended putting off any physical activity, which your husband surely relayed to him. He was the one whose name was on Art’s checks, after all. 

Your husband has always thrown a massive party to kick off the summer. Every year, 150 of your husband’s closest family, friends, and business associates flooded into the house. It shouldn’t be such a surprise that your husband invited Art after the performance he had given at the fundraiser—$25,000 from the foundation, and ticket sales went through the roof when it had been announced that the Art Donaldson would be making an appearance. Your husband owed Art a lot, and probably saw this as an opportunity for him to network, to take on more clients. He had been evangelizing Art’s training to any of your friends that would listen—how good you are on the court, how engaged and energetic you seem to be these days. 

It’s one thing to know that you’ll have to put on a happy face for the crowd, but to know that Art will be among them makes your insides twist with nerves. You can’t stop thinking about the way that he had spoken to you when you were hurt; his calm, steadying demeanor as he’d gotten you inside; the careful coaxing and gentle touch that he’d used as he’d taken your shoe off and examined your ankle more closely. 

You think about it now, as you strap on another pair of heels. Your ankle really is doing well, though you have a little lingering pain in shoes like these. You’ll likely be on your feet for the length of the party; it’s going to be a long night. You look over yourself in the mirror, self consciously tipping your ankle from side to side for anything that he may spot or catch out. But there’s nothing, you reassure yourself. You slide your hands over the skirt, plastering on a smile as your husband pokes his head into your dressing room. 

“Almost ready in here?” He asks. 

“All set!” 

-- 

He doesn’t come over to you. On the crowded patio, you can feel him watching you—you’ve gotten so used to seeking out the sensation that you can’t ignore it now. The first true look at him is agony. He watches you from just a few feet away, a glass of champagne in hand as he speaks with your husband and the Finemans. He openly looks you over, eyes drifting over your body to the flash of ankle revealed by the slit in your dress. He tips his head to the side just a little, squinting before his eyes flit back up to your face, lips twitching with a small smile. 

You want to hate how good it feels; you want to be angry with him for his smug knowing, his insistence of You can tell him no, you know. But it feels so goddamn good to have his attention again that you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed. You know that you’re staring—that you both are—and you force yourself to turn away and excuse yourself from the conversation you’re in. You go inside, murmuring your thanks for the waitstaff that pass you along the way.

The house isn’t nearly as busy as the patio, and you're able to slip into your darkened study unnoticed. You leave the lights off, certain that if you turn them on, people will be drawn in to bug you, like moths to a flame. The party’s lights and music filter in through the partially-closed blinds. 

You lean against the desk, circling your ankle and wincing a little. You’ll hide for a few minutes, let it rest—

Your breath catches in your throat as the door opens. You expect your husband, ready to scold and usher you back to the guests. 

You only have a second to get a look at Art before he shuts the door behind himself, plunging the room back into darkness. Your fingers tighten around the edge of the desk as you use it to ground yourself. 

“...Do you need something?” You ask, voice wobbling with nerves. 

“Wanted to come say hi.” 

“Well. Hi.” 

You hear him chuckle, his footsteps muted by the carpet. 

“Thanks for the invite.” 

“It wasn’t my idea.” It’s not polite to admit, but you want it to sting him, just a little. Maybe it does; in the dim of the room, you can’t see Art’s expression as he comes to a stop just a couple of feet from you. 

“Do you want me to go?” He asks. You know what you should say, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. 

“No,” You whisper. You feel the heat of him as he comes closer, his hands resting on the desk and caging you in. You bite your lip as gently brushes his nose against yours. 

“He isn’t taking care of you.” 

“My ankle is fine.” 

“I’m not talking about your ankle.” He lifts a hand, smoothing it over your hip as your breath mingles. Art’s fingers drift from your hip to stroke over the apex of your dress’s slit. His fingers slip further down, and you nod as he palms your thigh. Before you can say or do a thing, Art sinks to his knees. He curls his hand around your left calf, lifting it. You shiver as his lips press a gentle kiss to your ankle. His hand and lips travel up, easing the fabric of your dress higher with each second. The first brush of his knuckles against your panty-covered clit makes you jolt. Your hands dig into the wood of the desk as his fingers hook between the fabric and your skin. You lift your hips without a word, allowing him to draw them down. 

Art presses a kiss to your mound before he lowers his head, giving your lips a sweet, sucking kiss. You gasp softly as his tongue swipes across your clit. You look down despite the fact that you can’t see him well. You can just make out his blissful expression, his eyes closed as his laps broadly across your aching cunt. You lower your hand to his neat hair, winding your fingers through it, unable to help grasping it. His heady moan vibrates against you and you nearly cry out at the sensation. You manage to just catch it, the sound dying in your throat as Art buries his tongue inside you. He sweeps his thumb over your clit in rush, harried circles, panting against your heated flesh. You rock your hips down against his lips, tightening your grip on his hair as you guide him. He lets you do as you please, whining against your skin as your movements become less controlled.

“Art,” You warn, “I—Oh, oh god—” 

He hums in encouragement, sucking your clit back between his lips and lashing it with his tongue. Your jaw drops open, your hand shoving Art even more tightly against your skin as you cum suddenly. A stunned, breathy moan slips from your lips as Art leans back, smearing his lips against the inside of your thigh. 

You use your grasp on Art’s hair to draw him back up off of his knees, giving him a crushing kiss as he catches his balance. You swipe your tongue across his lips, whining against his lips as you taste yourself on him. He presses close, his hard cock straining against the fabric of his pants. You reach down, palming and squeezing his length as you trade slick, messy kisses. He steers you back onto the desk as you fumble to undo his belt, button, and zip. 

“Condom?” He asks. 

“Pill,” You reassure, shoving his pants down. You lap broadly across your palm, grasping Art’s length and guiding him closer. He brushes the tip of his cock against your still-throbbing clit, smiling as you whine. You’re going to ache tomorrow, but you’ve never been so happy to be sore.

“Art.” 

“Sssh.” 

“Please—” It’s hardly out of your mouth before he shoves his hips forward, seating himself fully with a single thrust. You bite down on your lip to quiet your moan, curling your arms around your shoulders. He rocks into you with firm, quick strokes, his mouth covering yours. You can hear things on the desk rattling with each thrust, kisses growing less controlled as he hoists your thigh up around his hip. 

“Oh, god,” You breathe, “We have to be quick—He’ll come looking—” 

“Not until you cum for me again,” He urges. “I need to feel it, sweetheart.” 

“Art—” 

“When’s the last time he did this? Hmm?” He presses, “When’s the last time he made you cum? When’s the last time he tasted you?” 

“Never,” You admit with a shiver. It seems to renew Art’s passion, his thrusts and hold growing more intense. You squeeze your eyes shut, hands hooking tightly in the fabric of his jacket. He yanks the front of your dress down, bowing over you and drawing one of your nipples between his lips. You whimper as he toys with the bud, tugging it gently with his teeth before swiping across it. You arch into the slick heat, using your leg to tug him even closer as you chased the swelling curl of your orgasm. 

“Just like that,” You urge, “Ffffuck—yes, yesyesyesyes—”

Your eyes squeeze shut as your hips buck down against his, pussy pulsing as he spills into you. Your heart pounds in your chest as the two of you slow and still. Art rests his forehead heavily against your neck, peppering gentle kisses across the exposed skin. You have to move—now. You don’t know if anyone heard you, but if someone did, you’re screwed. If no one did, your husband will probably be looking for you anyway, ready with a scold for neglecting your hostess duties. 

“...I have to go,” You warn softly. It takes Art a moment to move, but he does, gently drawing himself back from his still-throbbing cunt. You hear the clanking of his belt buckle as he tucks himself away, and you reach down, righting your dress where it’s been pulled away. You take up your panties from where they’d been discarded on the floor, tugging them on before you straighten your skirt and hurry out of the room. 

--  

“Can I see you?” 

It’s only been an hour since the last guest has left, and you are so, so fucking tired. You glance toward the bathroom door. You know that you locked it, and you’re certain that your husband can’t hear you over the shower running, but you can’t help but be paranoid.

“You just saw me,” You remind him. 

“Tomorrow,” Art clarifies. 

“Where?” 

“I’ll send an address.” 

You bite your lip, toying with your earring. Your pussy is still aching from the stretch of him, your ass sore from getting fucked on the desk. 

“...You regret it?” He asks. 

“No,” You don't give your answer a second thought.

“I’ll send an address. Whether or not you see me is up to you. Just…think about it. Okay?” 

“Okay.” 

You lower your phone, hanging it up and watching his contact information blink away. It’s only a moment before a text with an address lights up your phone. You don’t have to think about it. You already know what you’re going to do. 

--  

You know that you’re staring, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. Art has spent so much time in your home, so you feel entitled to look around a little bit. You eye the row of trophies on his mantle, photos of him playing when he was young. You come to a stop at a picture of him with a young girl, a racket in her hand and a medal around her neck. 

“Is this Lily?” You ask. 

“Yeah,” He nods. “First competition.” 

“Already getting gold,” You smile. “The Mark Rebellato Academy isn’t ready for her.” 

Art chuckles, nodding as he steps around you.

“You, uh…You want something to eat, or drink, or…?” He trails off, tucking his hands into his pockets as he takes a couple of steps back toward his kitchen. You turn to face him, taking him in more fully. 

“Art?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Why am I here?” 

He doesn’t answer for a few moments. You can see him weighing his options before he comes closer. 

“I…I’ve been thinking about last night.” 

Fear shoots through you, but you force yourself to stand tall. “Okay.”

“I could lie and tell you that it should be a one-time thing, but I can’t remember the last time I got through a day without thinking about you. And I think you’ve been thinking about me, too.” Art stops as the tip of his shoes brush against yours, and you let your eyes slip closed as he rests his forehead against yours. 

“Tell me I’m wrong,” He pleads. “Tell me to fuck off right now and I will never say another non-tennis related thing to you again.” 

-- 

When he fucks you, he curls close, chest pressing against yours as he catches your lips in a kiss. You sink back against his pillows, your head cradled by his broad palm as he rolls his hips achingly slowly. You don’t bother to hide your whines and moans, and you revel in his. Every grunt and whimper and groan that Art lets out lights you up. 

And when you cum, you don't have to quiet yourself. His name tumbles out of your mouth, cushioned between expletives as your nails dig into his shoulders.

--

"What time is he home tonight?"

You don't want to think about it. You want to stay in this cozy little bubble, trailing your fingers over his muscled chest as he massages your nape and kisses your forehead.

But you know that you'll have to let the world back in sometime.

"I don't know," You admit. "Late."

"...Could stay."

"He'll be suspicious if I'm not home when he gets there."

Art sighs softly, running his hand down to rub between your shoulder blades.

"This isn't going to be easy, is it."

"What?"

"Letting you go every day."

"Every day?" You tease, pushing yourself up to get a better look at him. "Don't get greedy, Mr. Donaldson."

He smiles, raising his hand and cupping your cheek. "Is it greedy to know what I want?"

You shake your head a little, lowering your lips to brush against his.

"Not when I want it, too."

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ;

@buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

#Art Donaldson x Reader #Art Donaldson x You #Art Donaldson/Reader #Art Donaldson/You #Art Donaldson fic #Art Donaldson imagine #the pro

[jeneveuxrein]

attention (TWICE Nayeon)

word count: 6.1K

(she's been on my radar since the killing voice medley, and well, yeah, enjoy!)

-- -- -- 

You’re seething, forcing the amber liquid down, watching the people mingle. You should introduce yourself to some because networking at events like this always gives you the chance to meet the next up and coming. 

But not tonight. 

You don’t even want to be here. You weren’t on the original guest list, but with last minute changes and someone’s wife suddenly going into labor, your boss forced you to attend. 

Maybe the proper term is chaperone. 

All you wanted to do tonight was spend some time with this woman you’ve been casually seeing. Nothing serious, nothing committal, just dinner and drinks that had the potential of ending together in a bed. You had been dragging it out, and you think it’s warranted. She makes it obvious she’s interested.

But with how this evening was looking, you’ll be spending the night with someone else. 

That someone is across the room, draped over some man you’re more than likely going to have to do damage control. She’s an idol after all, and rumors will spread like a wildfire about her being linked to someone who’s nowhere near her caliber. 

She catches you staring, sending a sly smirk as she leans into whatever-his-face is saying. A little too close for the company’s taste and a shit ton too much for your sake.

“Dear fuck,” You mumble, shaking your head before standing. 

You don’t know what compels you to walk through the crowd, nodding politely at those that wave, but there you are, less than a meter away from where she’s seated. 

“Nayeon,” You say coolly. The man quickly separates himself, going as far away from the woman in question. “Time to go. You have an early day tomorrow.”

Nayeon tilts her head, a questioning glint in her eye because she, out of all of the members, knows her schedule. She has nothing for tomorrow, except maybe rest and recovery because this is her fault you’re here. 

Well, maybe you should backtrack. It’s technically your fault because if you hadn’t mentioned to Sana and Momo the plans you originally had, you wouldn’t be at some event against your will. It was an innocent question on how you were going to spend the weekend, the only mistake was that you said too much that they went running to their unnie. 

“Okay,” Nayeon says slowly, standing before bidding farewell to the people at the table. You wait for her, obviously, because that’s what you’re supposed to do. “Shall we?” She asks as she turns to face you. 

You nod, stepping side before bowing politely. You’ll have to send a message to the media team to stop any photos releasing of Nayeon and the man, but that could wait. There were more pressing matters that needed your attention. 

It isn’t until you’re inside your car that she says something that ticks you off, “So no date with Suji-unnie tonight?”

You shake your head, composing yourself because it’s a question she knows the answer to. “Nope, duty calls. Had to be here.”

“How unfortunate,” Nayeon says casually as if she had no part in how your night turned out, slouching in the passenger seat as you shift the car into drive. “Yours or mine? ” She asks, looking out the window. Adding, “Momo’s in Japan.”

“Mine,” You answer simply, turning onto the street. 

-- -- 

You should’ve seen it coming, but you let it happen. 

The company and management would have you barred from working with anyone in the industry if they ever found out. You reasoned that was why by the time things unfolded, it was out of your control. 

How it started was subtle, nothing too out of the ordinary to draw attention to her mostly. She flirted with you, commenting on your outfits about how it looked good on you and you, being you, would return the sentiment. It wasn’t anything explicit, just a polite acknowledgement of her looking great, something she heard daily from the girls and other people on the team. 

She lingered to walk with you whether it was crowded or not, it didn’t matter. She was right by your side, and the times where fans were around, she’d be especially close that you had no other choice to wrap your arm around her, shielding her from people who desperately wanted her attention. You missed the snickers from the girls, rolling their eyes because they knew what she was up to, while you were just doing your job. 

Then she texted you on free days, asking if you wanted to do something. Anything from getting food at hole-in-the-wall restaurants she learned about from Chaeyoung to intimate concerts of artists in the industry. You tried to decline, advising her to go with one of the female managers so it wouldn’t look suspicious to the public eye, but she was adamant about going with you. Some of the girls would join from time to time, but the majority of the time, it was just you two.

Again, you thought nothing of it. You were the closest to her, so no one batted an eye when she put in the group chat when something was planned. 

That was just how your relationship was with her for five years since the group debuted. 

Until one night.

You were working late, going over the travel plans for the girls’ encore tour, tucked away in your office. A short four-city stint in the United States that would be a bit of a hustle for them, but you knew they could do it. 

There were a soft two knocks, scaring you because you thought everyone had already left. You remembered the way you said come in, raspy and tired, when the door opened slightly, the half of Nayeon’s face peeking through the crevice. 

You smiled immediately, sitting straight, nodding as she stepped inside. You took note of her outfit. Something comfortable since they had dance rehearsals for the better part of the day, dark sweats and a heather grey cropped hoodie that showed a sliver of her skin, peeking from underneath. 

You watched Nayeon grow into a beautiful woman. Sexy too, but you slapped yourself every single time you thought of her like that. There had to be some professional line drawn somewhere. Although it seemed that metaphorical line had been blurred, crossed, over the past few months. 

She was more affectionate, playing with your fingers in the car, gently touching your arm wherever you walked. She pressed into your side more, even when there were no people around. She hugged you a bit longer than the others, not like you were counting the seconds. 

You stood to meet her on the couch, asking if she was alright since she was vocal earlier in the day she wanted to go home to sleep. She explained that she had finished practicing with the dance instructor. You admired how hard she worked, which for what it was worth, you thought she did well during rehearsals. 

“And I saw your office light on as I was leaving, thought I’d say goodbye,” Nayeon rested her head on your outstretched arm. It wasn’t out of the norm, something she did quite frequently in front of everyone. 

“You should rest,” You urged, softly squeezing her shoulder as she snuggled into you. “You did great today.”

Nayeon looked up at you, gaze briefly shifting to your lips before meeting your eyes, “Really?” 

You hadn’t realized it before, but as she stared at you, you could see how much she needed the affirmation, the reassurance, the praise, from you. 

You cleared your throat, looking away because it suddenly felt hot in your office. With Nayeon this close, her perfume faint, it had you dizzy. You mumbled a shy yeah. 

You knew the moment her hand touched your thigh, it was over. Everything you worked for, investing time and resources to make sure the girls you managed were successful, would be tossed down the drain because the undeniable tension that had been building over the past however long at this point broke.

The thing was, you didn’t know about it until that moment. 

You weren’t sure who kissed who first, and it didn’t matter. All you knew was she was on top, your arms pulling her closer as your lips met in a heated kiss, swallowing each other’s moans. 

Something clicked inside of you, like this was always supposed to happen. Every message, every call, every playful push, every stolen glance, every single thing led to this. 

“Nayeon,” You tore yourself apart, hyper aware of the small whine leaving her mouth as you tried to get some grip on the situation. “What’re we doing? We can’t do this.” 

Her eyes narrowed, glaring, and you knew that whatever resolve you had would be taken from you by her whether you liked it or not. She was never one to be challenged, always exceeding whatever expectation was placed on her. 

“And why not?” Her voice was steady, but her body was not. She dropped to her knees in between your legs. All the thoughts you pushed deep down inside you came rushing to the surface, dismantling the walls you put up for her to break it so easily. “You don’t think I’m pretty?” Her hands were on the waistband of your slacks, trailing along, stopping when she reached the button. 

You didn’t have the words, no sentence to form as she slowly, oh so slowly, pulled the zipper down. You nearly choked once she placed her hand over your cock, palming with the softest pressure. 

“Your body seems to think so,” She teased, slipping her hand underneath the fabric, wrapping around your cock. 

That very thin thread of control you snapped, leaning forward to pull back onto your lap. “That’s a lot to assume,” You quipped, hands gripping her waist firmly. 

“Really?” She rolled her hips over you, catching the smirk on her face as your eyes closed. “I think that you’ve always wanted me as much as I wanted you, which I—”

Impulsively, you brought your lips to hers, a searing kiss that she met with the same enthusiasm. You murmured a shut up before nipping her bottom lip, sucking lightly that her body shuddered against you. 

You didn’t remember much else from that night. 

That was a lie because that was the night she confessed it all. It didn’t help that she somehow slipped all her clothes off and she sunk your cock inside one smooth motion, testing your control once again because you could’ve exploded the moment you felt her warmth wrapped around you.

You remembered it vividly, clearly, as you watched her move on top of you. It was slow, intentional with every drop of her body, like she was showing you what you had been missing. It was hot, tight, and you couldn’t stop the whimper out of your mouth when she started whispering things—nasty, filthy things that you would have never guessed were in her vocabulary. 

Nayeon bit your ear lobe, murmuring how good you felt, how she got so wet whenever she saw you. The soft moan she let out. The dazed, lust-filled expression with each roll of her hips. You couldn’t stop the noises you made, the groans, the grunts, the fuck every time her pussy tightened. 

There was a brief sense of clarity when your stomach tightened, signaling you were close. You couldn’t exactly cum inside her because one, you stupidly (blindly) forgot to put a condom on, and two, you didn’t keep track of her health records (that wasn’t one of your responsibilities among everything else), so getting an idol pregnant wasn’t exactly on your list. 

She knew you were close the second your hips thrusted up, stealing a breathy moan. You were content lifting her off you to cum anywhere else that wasn’t inside her.

However, Nayeon was not. 

She made it perfectly clear when she wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you against her as she quickened her pace. You tried, maybe not that much, to get her off you before you met your impending end, but it was futile when she kissed your cheek, affectionately, lovingly, hot breath against your skin that she wanted you to claim her in a way no one else ever had. 

Air left your lungs as you came, releasing a lot inside of her, causing her own orgasm that felt like yours went on forever. She muffled her scream, biting into your neck as her body trembled. 

You wanted to believe it was a one-time thing, a mishap, a lapse in judgment because it was still your fucking job on the line. 

It was not a one-time thing. You couldn’t even count it as a two-time thing, or three, or four. It just kept happening. You couldn’t exactly avoid her, you literally worked for her. 

No one would think you favored her because they all knew you did, but they understood why. No one could stop Nayeon from being near you because she would throw a fit. Any crisis she had, you were the main point of contact because she only listened to you. 

Even if you had some kind of control over her, she had the most control over you. 

Then after some time of figuring out how you and Nayeon could keep whatever this under wraps—nothing was ‘figured out’ as you wouldn’t really be talking if you were alone together—a mutual colleague introduced you to Bae Suji.

-- 

You went on one date with Suji, or Suzy, as she sometimes preferred. How any of the girls found out was beyond you, but if you had to wager, it would’ve been Jeongyeon or Sana (Nayeon later did say it was the latter because her friend saw you).

It didn’t matter who found out because managers are allowed to have lives outside of their work, but this particular part of your life wouldn’t be allowed by the woman you spent a good chunk of time with, on- and off-the-clock. 

To say Nayeon was upset would be an understatement. Sure, she was upset, but she was livid. You didn’t see her that night, but she was at your door the next morning. She did what she always did, easily seducing you before demanding an explanation while you were deep inside her. 

It wasn’t healthy by any means, but it’s not like either of you cared. It was toxic at best, but it was debauchery at its absolute worst, using sex as a loaded gun to get whatever you wanted from each other. 

“You know we can’t keep doing this,” You grunted as you thrusted inside her, pausing as her pussy tightened. 

“Yet here you fucking are, still balls deep inside of me,” Nayeon said lowly, tugging you so you towered over her. “You aren’t fucking her so why did you even go out with her?”

You didn’t bother responding, instead you wrapped a firm hand around her neck, squeezing enough to shut her up because at that point, she was pissing you off. 

You would admit that that morning was the first time you let her get the best of you. You typically weren’t aggressive with her. You might’ve been rough less than a handful of times, but never like that.

What you couldn’t predict was how she’d react. She could have done anything. Hit you. Slap you. Push you off. 

She didn’t. 

It spurred her on more than anything. By the way her pussy tightened. By the way it felt wetter. By the way she tried to make a sound, but couldn’t because of the hold around her.

Your hand relaxed, listening to her violently gasp as the air entered her body. You broke for a moment, searching for any sign of discomfort, uneasiness, because at the end of the day—you wouldn’t admit this to her—you loved her. You were in love with her, stupidly falling for her whether you wanted to or not. You believed she felt the same, but those kinds of things weren’t a topic of discussion. 

“Baby,” You whispered, still buried inside of her, but you weren’t moving. “I’m sor—”

Nayeon shook her head, sitting up as you hissed once the cool air hit your cock. She gave you a quick peck before turning onto her stomach, arching her back. Pushing herself up on her hands, she shook her hips side to side, head slightly turned, “Fuck me, daddy.”

A new kink was unlocked that night among a myriad of emotions you weren’t prepared for. One thing you were prepared for was to fuck her like you owned her. 

Maybe you did, but she owned you too. 

-- -- 

You open your front door, stepping aside for Nayeon to walk through. Tossing the keys on the side table, the door shuts as you take off your shoes. She’s right next to you, arms crossed behind her back, leaning against the wall. She’s waiting for the reaction you give whenever she pisses you off. She does what she does to rile you up, if that isn’t obvious. 

You sigh, shaking your head, standing in front of Nayeon. Her eyes look up, but your gentle hand cups her chin, tilting her head back. When you meet her gaze, there’s something off with her. 

You can read her like a book, very familiar with her moods. Though, this time, you see—and feel—the walls up, something unfamiliar to you. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask softly, searching her face for anything to give her away. Her expression remains neutral, shrugging indifferently. “Something’s wrong.” 

Nayeon pulls away, averting her gaze, “Nothing’s wrong.” Pause. “So are we going to fuck or what? Isn’t that why we’re here?” 

“Not with that attitude,” You say sternly, reaching for her arms behind her back. You bring them around, struggling a bit. “What the fuck is your problem?” 

“There is no fucking problem. If you want to talk about thoughts and feelings, I’m going to pass,” She breaks away, and you let her. “I’ll call Jihyo or Jeongyeon to pick me up.” She turns to walk away, but you reach out quickly, hand wrapping onto her forearm to pull her back. 

Nayeon lets out a small oomph against your chest, glaring at you, unbothered by her attitude (you’ve dealt with worse), “Tell me what the fuck is wrong right now.”

“Or what?” Nayeon huffs, hands on your chest in a feeble attempt to get away from you. 

The movement brings your bodies closer, and accidentally, maybe purposely, she grounds her pelvis against you. It’s with the lightest pressure, but it’s enough for your cock to stir, awakening from her heated stare. You notice the way her breath hitches, body shivering as you pull her closer. 

“Brat,” You murmur, dropping your head to capture her lips with your teeth. She moans softly when you start sucking. Her hands move to interlace behind your neck. You didn’t want to use sex to get it out of her, but she’s being defiant. “Do you get off on making me mad?” 

“Not intentionally, of course.” You feel her smile form, the upward curve of her lips as you slide your tongue in. She sighs dreamily into the kiss, dropping her weight to lean against the wall. You fall into her, practically pinning her. “Is someone going to put me in my place?” 

It’s a rhetorical question because there has only been one person to put her in her place. 

You. 

This evening could have played out in two ways. The first, being the doting lover you’re familiar with, praising her softly like a secret only between you and her, taking your time to draw out every moan and sigh against your lips. The second, the one you’re leaning towards, being the indifferent, apathetic lover, uncaring of if she cums, fucking her until she begs for you, pussy deliciously tight to force you to breed her, claim her, because she’s yours. 

“Why not that tool you were all over at the party?” The question catches her off guard, body tensing at the thought that you caught her. She wanted you to catch her though, she has always wanted to be wanted by you. “You knew I was watching across the room,” Pulling away as you tower over her.

“It wasn’t like that,” Nayeon rushes out, the excuse you’ve heard multiple times before. The false panic in her eyes means she knew exactly what she was doing to get a reaction out of you. “We were just talking.” 

“I don’t believe that,” You click your tongue, the image of her with someone else like that sparks a possessive desire. “That wasn’t very good of you, baby.” Void of any affection associated with the pet name. Under the dim light of your hallway, you see her eyes dilate and her breathing picks up. She wants you and fuck do you want her too. “Room. Now.” 

Nayeon nods obediently. You reward her with a soft, chaste kiss. She tries her best to keep your lips together, but you tap her hip twice and she pulls away. “Daddy.” She whines, pouting in hopes it’ll get her more than you’re giving. You thought she’d last longer before using her nickname for you. 

“Don’t be a brat,” Your eyes narrow, challenging her because if she wants to act out even more, you’d just have to punish her. “Go to the room now.” Nayeon’s eyes widen at your tone, nodding once before walking down the hallway. 

You tilt your head side-to-side, stretching the muscles before making a quick stop in the kitchen. You know you’ll both be exhausted whenever you finish, so you might as well at least have water nearby. You’ll find the energy to make her food in the morning, or there’s always takeaway. With two water bottles in hand, you kick your room door open to Nayeon perched on the edge of your bed, topless, only leaving her red lace bottoms, dress tossed haphazardly on the chair. 

“For later, okay?” Momentarily breaking out of character because you still care for her, and her well-being will always be your top priority. She sends you a grateful smile before you place the bottles on the dresser. When you meet her on the bed, she moves to swing her leg over yours, but you shake your head. “Not yet, baby. You weren’t very good back there.” 

“But, but,” Nayeon’s voice trembles, biting her lip. “I didn’t mean it!” 

“Then why did you act out? Do I not give you what you want?” You gently push Nayeon off to her original position. 

“You do!” She says desperately, nodding her head. 

“Then why? Why him?” You taunt, deciding how far you want to go with her tonight. Something’s still wrong, and you need to know what. You want the reason, the confession, because she doesn’t keep secrets from you. You see the wheels turning, unsure if whatever she has to say would matter. It does matter to you. “So what is it?” 

“Because I wanted your attention,” Nayeon confesses before she jumps on you, landing perfectly on your already hard cock. She moans at the contact, grinding slightly before your hands find themselves on her hips, guiding her movement. “I wanted you to remind me who I belong to.” 

“And who’s that?” You say lazily, tongue trailing against her lower lip before dipping inside, swirling that she grounds harder. 

“You,” Voice dropping low, seductively adding, “Daddy.” 

You have to still make her pay her retribution. She’s almost there, telling you the real reason, and you’ll get it out of her. You easily lift her body off yours, smirking at the whine and huff when you pull away as you lay her on your stomach against your lap. “I still have to punish you, baby.” You rest your hand on her back, ghosting over her skin until you reach her low back. 

“But daddy,” Nayeon huffs, raising her hips in a feeble attempt to get your hand where she wants. “It didn’t mean anything,” She repeats, squirming on your lap. 

Your hand goes lower, hovering over her buttcheek, “It meant something to me,” You say pensively. Curious, prodding, “Is that why you wanted me to fill in instead of Seoyeon-unnie? You didn’t want me to go on my date.”

You don’t hear a response. You swiftly bring your hand down to her bottom, a resounding smack echoes through the room. “Well?” 

Silence again, which would result in another slap to the other cheek. She muffled a moan into the bedsheets, refusing to budge. 

Bingo. 

Her pride is her biggest downfall, ego constantly needing to be stroked. She loves the attention and adoration from fans, thriving off the praise, knowing that it’s all for her. She would rather suffer through the pain than have to admit she was jealous. 

The center of attention, the one in the limelight, spotlight shining on her and only her. She craves that from you, to be the center of your world, but ever since Suji came into the picture, she’s scared that there might be someone else, crashing like a meteor on unstable ground she’s never had. 

You continue with the slaps, easing the sting with light rubs. You know she’s soaked, the small dark circle forming on her underwear. You’re not faring any better, cock tenting against the fabric. 

After the seventh hit, Nayeon moans, body shaking wantonly in frustration. “Fuck fuck, please, please.”

“Tell me the truth.” Coercion isn’t the best method, manipulative by any definition, but you had no other choice. 

“Fine, fine.” You relent, hand halting mid-air. “I didn’t want you to go. You’re supposed to be mine,” She cries, breath uneven as she tries to compose herself. 

Your hand drops. Her body flinches when she feels it against her skin, but continues to wait, anticipating your next move. Your chest squeezes at the confession because she’s never been this vulnerable, open, willing to express her feelings for you.

You give in, to her, to this, the urge to suddenly show her who owns you becomes too great. You pull her up, laying her on the bed as you fall in between her legs. 

“Baby,” You murmur, leaning forward to brush your lips against her ear, “You’re being so good. I am yours,” Her body shivers, hips rolling up into nothing as she seeks some kind of friction. “I’m yours,” You repeat like a mantra, a reminder of what you’ve always said. “You deserve a reward, okay?” 

Nayeon shakes her head, eyes shooting open, wild with want and desire. “I can’t wait, daddy.” She reaches for your shirt, ripping the buttons, before stopping at your belt. “Inside me, please. I need to feel you.” 

You do nothing to stop her, hands swiftly moving to unbuckle your belt and slipping your cock out of your briefs. You groan when she wraps around your length, stroking lightly. She aims the tip at her opening, against the lace, uncontrollably moaning and panting. 

“Go ahead,” You goad, eyes fixated on your cock rubbing over her. The wetness seeps on you, mouth watering at the sight. You watch as she moves her underwear to the side, lining up your cock perfectly, the warmth and wetness surrounding you has you seeing stars. 

“I’m so wet, daddy,” Nayeon moans loudly, scooting closer to take more of you in. “All for you—fuck.” 

You couldn’t help yourself. She felt too good, too wet, and the tightness suffocates you the second you snap your hips forward, burying your cock to the hilt inside her. The sudden stretch has her head snapping back, screaming into the air. 

“You’re such a slut, always ready for my cock,” You choke out, hands settling on her hips before drawing backwards. Her body squirms, chasing after the sensation of being filled. “So needy tonight, baby.”

“Please, please,” Nayeon begs, doing everything she can to get all of you back inside her. She wants you, wants you so no one else can have you, desperate for the feeling you give her. She thrusts her hips down, sucking you in unexpectedly, that you nearly collapse on top of her. Her arms wrap around you, nails digging into your skin when your length rubs along her walls. “Fuck me. You own me.”

“Mine?” You’re able to catch a breath, holding on to the control you’re trying to keep. 

“Yours.” 

It snaps, breaking the moment she says the word, possessing you to pull back before sliding back in. You lose yourself inside her, each moan and breathy sigh, as you set a steady pace. It’s a beautiful sensation for Nayeon’s pussy hugging your cock perfectly, warm, wet, tight—just for you. 

Her nails trail down, scratching your back enough that you’ll see the damage later. The pain turns you on, snapping your hips, driving your cock through. You nearly falter when your eyes meet hers. It’s akin to love, a word that has been dangerously sitting on the tip of your tongue these past few months. 

“I—fuck,” You stutter out. You can’t tell her how you feel. You can’t. You shouldn’t. You won’t. 

“I love you.” 

You swear you misheard her. The three words forming the sentence that has you over the moon. She says it again, softly, affectionately, because she means it. 

“You love me?” You cease your movements, cock bottoming out inside of her. The snugness of her pussy warms your cock as you wait. She doesn’t hesitate, saying it again and again before pulling your lips to hers. 

“I love you,” Nayeon mumbles, tongue running along your bottom lip. 

“Fuck,” You pull away, hips drawing back before flipping her body over. She raises her hips, the beautiful arch in her back. You tear the lacy garment off, making a silent promise you’ll buy her another later. You’ll buy her whatever she wants. “I love you,” You whisper before sinking in, missing the way her eyes roll back. 

You couldn’t control what happened next as the words triggered her orgasm. Her pussy pulls you in, suffocating you so you wouldn’t leave—not like you had anywhere to go. You’d lose yourself inside her ten times out of ten. 

“Fuck daddy, I’m cumming,” Nayeon screams, panting as her body shudders, pussy tightening and relaxing rhythmically as you groan. You feel the wetness coat your upper thighs, guttural moaning against her hair. “Come inside me, please. I’m yours, yours, oh shit—”

Your stomach tightens, snapping at the way her ass cheeks ripple against your pelvis, moving uncontrollably as she coaxes your orgasm. Your hands grip her muscles, hips erratically thrusting into her as your release floods her, painting every crevice inside her. 

Nayeon leans her head back, enough for you to kiss her forehead. Her hands find yours, interlacing them sweetly as you both try to catch your breath. 

You’re still hard, and you’re feeling particularly giving. She can handle whatever you throw at you, so you gently remove one of your hands from hers, trailing slowly to the apex of her thighs. Her breathing hitches, “What’re you doing?” 

“Another,” You command as you rub through her folds, finding her clit. 

“Wait—wait shit,” The contact catches her by surprise, her body folding forward as you continue your onslaught. 

“Good girl,” You murmur, watching as her hips move in slow figure eights with your cock still inside. Her pussy constricts, finding every angle to hit her favorite spot. And when she does, she mewls and pants. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

Nayeon turns her head, locking eyes with you as she moves faster along your length. Your fingers aren’t idle, applying heavy pressure that has her going crazy, unsure with what to do with the pleasure flowing through her body. You mouth cum and flicking like a switch, she gushes all over you, forcing you to leave her warmth. 

“Fuck daddy,” Nayeon screams, voice hoarse as you watch her body convulse, back arching and flexing as she squirts more fluid than you’d ever seen. “I need you, please. Something, anything—oh shit!” Your fingers enter her swiftly, massaging her inner muscles as it just gets wetter, drenching your skin and bedsheets. 

“Tell me who owns this pussy,” You say lowly, eyes fixated on the way her butt muscles ripple with every movement of your fingers. 

“You,” She repeats your name over and over, pussy sucking you as she tightens deliciously around them. “God, fuck, you, sir, only you.” 

You replace your fingers with your cock, aiming at her opening before sinking in once again. Her fingers ball into fists, wrinkling the bed sheets as you nearly go feral on her body. She could take it. She wants you like this, crazy, addicted, in love that no one else could fuck her. She needs to feel how much you want her. She only needs you.

“So easy,” You swing a hand back, slapping each cheek with precision. “All you need is my cock, right?” 

“Yes, yes, only yours daddy,” Nayeon nods, easily agreeing to whatever you say. You could call her every name in the book, and she’d comply. She’s your little fucktoy that gets your cock stuffed inside her whenever you want.

You lose it once Nayeon lets out a high-pitched squeal. The orgasm crashes through your body, hips stuttering forcefully into hers as you fill her again, unabashedly rolling your hips to hear her breath staccato. 

Every nerve on your body buzzes, stimulated by Nayeon’s walls pulsing to milk you for all that you have. It hits overstimulation, sucking the breath from you as you regretfully pull out. She whines at the loss of contact, but you lean forward, sweetly kissing her buttcheek, nipping at the skin that she squirms. 

“Ticklish?” You tease, voice light and relaxed. The exhaustion slowly sets in your bones. 

“You know I am,” Nayeon huffs, hips dropping, limbs spread limply. 

You’re still a sick human, and you want to see the result of your activities. You nudge Nayeon’s leg, easily responsive as they spread a little. You bite your tongue at the sight of your essence dribbling out of her swollen lips. It’s hot, filthy to see you all over her. You wish you had a phone nearby to snapshot this into memory, but your mind drifts off to recreating it at a later date.

You yawn, collapsing next to her that she scoots to snuggle into your side. You fight to keep your eyes open because you still have to clean up. Nayeon mumbles something into your skin. You don’t quite catch what she says, softly asking her to repeat it, and you freeze. 

“I love you.”

It’s a finicky thing, this thing between you and Nayeon. Somewhere along the way, you fell for her. Maybe you knew the moment you met her, or maybe you knew that you would at some point in time. Or maybe you knew the night she walked into your office because by then, it had built up between you that that was the final piece of the puzzle to confirm what you’ve known. 

The hormones flow between you, and you can’t help but think that’s the only reason why. You’re an idiot too, “Are you just saying that?” Nayeon’s hand presses into your chest. You open your eyes to her peering over you, hair an unruly mess, “What?”

Nose scrunching, Nayeon rolls her eyes, “You seriously believe I’d throw that around so easily?”

You don’t, but this was Nayeon. You may have been sleeping with her for a while, but you’ve heard the girls talk about their flings. You could almost guarantee that she’s only been sleeping with you, but they know how to hide things. 

“Stupid,” Nayeon shakes her head when you ask again. “Did you just say it?”

You did. You do. It’s not just the hormones causing you to act like such a love struck idiot. You weigh the situation, knowing that whatever answer you give will change your relationship. It won’t be an illicit affair between an idol and her manager. It’ll be hard because you’d still have to keep it a secret, unless you changed companies, something you’d be willing to do. 

“No,” You send an easy smile, “I love you. I’m in love with you.” 

Nayeon’s face lights up, beaming with all her teeth showing, eyes crinkling in the corners. She kisses you, softly, tenderly, a contrast to how you were no less than five minutes ago. 

“I love you,” Nayeon says quietly, an unspoken vow passed between you. She understands what this means, being together for real, that there will be hardships, but she’ll do them with you. 

You sigh contentedly against her lips, whispering those same three words, full of intent and promise. 

“No more dates with Suji-unnie,” Nayeon sing-songs, confident after pecking you on the lips, smug at accomplishing her mission of making you hers. 

-- -- -- 

(pardon any mistakes or typos, lol)

#twice smut #twice nayeon #twice im nayeon #nayeon smut #im nayeon smut #im nayeon

[5sospenguinqueen]

Love To Hate | Daniel Ricciardo x Gasly! Reader

Summary: Daniel Ricciardo is known for bickering with Pierre Gasly's older sister online. The fans love it but they suspect there might be something more behind it.

Warnings: Swearing. One sexual innuendo. Female reader.

Takes place in the 2022 season so Daniel is with McLaren.

Main Masterlist

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mclaren just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, alex_albon and others

mclaren spot the difference #MonacoGP tagged: landonorris, danielricciardo

2,446 comments

YourUserName the one on the left can actually drive

→ User 1 wtf does she know about f1

→ User 2 um, her baby brother is a GP winner so…

danielricciardo @ YourUserName coming from the woman who failed her driving test twice

→ YourUserName @ pierregasly you weren’t supposed to tell your little racing friends that!

→ pierregasly do not drag me into this nonsense.

landonorris @ YourUserName thanks pookie

→ danielricciardo more like pukie

→ YourUserName you’re just mad that he gets bitches and you don’t

→ danielricciardo okay, cradle snatcher

User 3 mom and dad are fighting again

danielricciardo here’s to a good weekend 💪

→ YourUserName ass licker

→ danielricciardo you wish.

→ maxverstappen1 can you guys not do your foreplay privately

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YourUserName just posted

liked by arthur_leclerc, lilymhe and others

YourUserName soaking up the sun before the madness resumes (01/06/2022) 🌻

2,488 comments

danielricciardo i need to bleach my eyes. please cover you up before you mentally scar someone else.

→ User 5 he says like his jaw didn’t drop when this came across his timeline

User 6 how to become y/n gasly

→ YourUserName have an annoying brother and endure his equally insufferable friends

lilymhe the only reason i’m still with Alex is so i have an excuse to spend time with you in the paddock

→ YourUserName we could get married and then you could see me all the time??

→ alex_albon it’s a good thing I’m used to this or i might cry

→ georgerussle63 don’t lie. i can hear you sobbing from my hotel room.

MaleFriend wow 🥵 → danielricciardo try harder (comment deleted)

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PierreGASLY you’re both certified yappers. it’s why the two of you together is a nightmare

User 7 hmm, okay but why were you two together in the first place if you hate each other…

→ danielricciardo I was bullying her

→ YourUserName pierre ditched me to talk to a pretty girl and Daniel was making fun of the fact that I got lost

→ LandoNorris i wouldn’t have left you… just saying 👀

→ YourUserName i’m 10 years old than you, boo.

→ LandoNorris age is just a number

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danielricciardo just posted

liked by mclaren, scottyjames31 and others

danielricciardo preferred mode of transport... fast

6,443 comments

YourUserName title of your sex tape “i'm in love with my car”

YourUserName someone’s clearly compensating for something

→ danielricciardo omg why are you so obsessed with me. Get out of my comments, stalker

→ YourUserName let’s not forget you stalked me first

→ danielricciardo where’s your proof

→ pierregasly here. you begged me for her instagram until i gave in

→ danielricciardo and then i realised what a bitch she was

→ YourUserName just ‘cause i wouldn’t blow you

→ pierregasly i need you to delete this

User 1 this man is so fine

User 2 i’d like to ride

→ YourUserName you’d have more fun with the car

→ User 2 omg hi queen

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liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes and others

YourUserName last race of the season today. just wanted to say a big ‘well done’ to my baby bro. so proud of all you achieved this season and i know you’ll go on to kill it next year! 🍾 #AbuDhabiGP

3,323 comments

YourUserName yes, i know one pic has daniel. no, it’s not an announcement of our friendship. i just like how scared pear looks

User 8 i have never been more attracted to a frenchman before

danielricciardo and who is that handsome man

→ YourUserName there is not a single handsome man in this post; charles was sulking out of the frame

→ pierregasly 1) i am very handsome, 2) stay away from charles, he’s too nice for you

→ danielricciardo and too pretty

→ charles_leclerc stop it or i will fall in love with all of you

→ YourUserName @ pierregasly i’ll stop if you promise to get rid of daniel so i don’t have to see him again

→ danielricciardo and deny you of my bakery 🍑

→ User 9 it's cake, honey, but you tried

User 10 anyone catch the camera panning to y/n when daniel’s car spun out in qualifying

→ User 11 talk about delulu

→ User 12 because he almost crashed into her brother so obvi they would show her

pierregasly just posted

liked by francisca.cgomes, yukitsunoda0511 and others

pierregasly a huge thank you to my support system. je t'aime grande soeur 🌸 (she forced me to post this, please send help)

5,222 comments

YourUserName you’re such a liar! you were legit crying to me last night about how nice it is that i still come to all your races and then said you wanted the world to know

→ pierregasly don’t expose me!

→ landonorris come sit in my car instead. rub a little luck on it

→ User 12 never beating the no rizz allegations

danielricciardo @ landonorris probably best she doesn't, she’s clearly a curse, mate

→ YourUserName and how many races did you win this season?

→ danielricciardo i hope pierre pushes you off the plane tomorrow

→ YourUserName i hope you get run over in the pits

alphatauri we love having you in the garage

User 1 agreed. her hair looked so pretty today and he ruined it

User 2 only for him to then completely forget what he was saying when he realised she was wearing a white shirt? yes! it’s been playing in my head

→ User 3 can’t say i blame him. i too was no better than a man 👀

User 4 but the way he covered her body with his the second he realised to stop the camera focusing on her see-through top

→ User 5 and then gave her one of his shirts because she was walking around in a mclaren top until pierre yanked her into the alphatauri garage

→ User 6 guys, this is bare minimum. him being hot doesn’t make this extra chivalrous

User 7 another angle of that video showed it was an accident. he can be seen saying sorry a billion times and after that, they put a border around the fountain

YourUserName posted a new story

danielricciardo reposted your story

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YourUserName just posted

liked by carlossainz55, georgerussell63 and others

YourUserName happy 4 year anniversary to my professional car crasher tagged: danielricciardo

7,114 comments

User 1 i knew it! they all called me crazy

danielricciardo delete this. you said you would be a nice. i’m a champion! how many trophies do you have, huh

→ YourUserName depends on how many i steal from the trophy case in our living room (plus, those are replicas)

→ User 2 our?!?!

charles_leclerc but i thought you loved me?

→ YourUserName i do, citrouille. but, daniel and pierre are keeping us apart.

User 3 4 years? this means they were together when he was still at red bull! what did you think about him leaving?

→ YourUserName i'm not allowed to talk about that

landonorris congratulations, mum and dad

→ alex_albon congratulations, mum and dad

→ georgerussell63 congratulations, mum and dad

→ YourUserName i didn’t sign up for this responsibility

→ danielricciardo they’re a package deal, babe. they come with me

maxverstappen1 oh, thank god. It was so hard keeping this to myself in interviews

danielricciardo just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, kellypiquet and others

danielricciardo contrary to popular belief, pierre is not my favourite gasly

6,998 comments

YourUserName aww, mon coeur, you actually used nice photos

→ danielricciardo don’t speak french to me, you know it turns me on

→ maxverstappen1 i miss when you publicly hated each other

pierregasly you take that back!

pierregasly that’s it. you’re off the Christmas card list

francisca.cgomes wonderful, daniel, now he’s sulking

→ YourUserName you get used to it. they may seem cool but all f1 drivers are essentially big crybabies

→ danielricciardo hey!

→ charles_leclerc hey!

→ pierregasly hey!

→ alex_albon hey!

→ landonorris hey!

→ carlossainz55 hey!

→ georgerussell63 true

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Please request if you have any ideas you'd like to see, and I'll do my best to bring them to life <3

#formula 1 #f1 #formula 1 smau #f1 smau #formula 1 social media au #f1 social media au #social media au imagine #formula 1 headcanon #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 fluff #formula 1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 headcanon #f1 drabble #f1 one shot #f1 fluff #f1 x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo drabble #daniel ricciardo headcanon #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo smau #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x gasly reader #gasly reader #pierre gasly

[russellsppttemplates]

A red thread tying you to me (Charles Leclerc)

There was something pulling you to him and Charles was ready to act on it

Note: english is not my first language. I loved the blurb and now we have a big piece too!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions the death of reader's father's and Charles' father's deaths

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"The congress is just outside of Milan, the exact city and details are in there", your colleague Lucia offered as she flickered though the pages, "I've been a couple of times before and it's really enriching, I just know you'll love the students and the department head - she was my supervisor for a couple of years".

"It sounds great", you looked at the panel information and then the travel details, "it's such a shame you can't come with me though, but I also wouldn't want to risk your little dude showing up and have me as your midwife", you chuckled as Lucia rubbed her baby bump.

"You're capable of many things, Y/N, but I would prefer if the fate of my baby and my underparts was in the hands of a professional!", she bumped your shoulder, "and the area is really nice too, I'm sure you'll find something to keep you busy during the weekend".

"I have plans, actually, I'll be fine I think", you smiled.

Like Lucia predicted, you had a great time in the conference and the guest lecture you gave was applauded and discussed for nearly an hour after you showed the last slide of the presentation, topics going back and forth until everyone had to absolutely leave the room before the next lecture began. For now, you'd get to enjoy the region, drinking some wine and taking in the views you recognised.

The park where your father used to take you didn't look too different. The slides didn't look rusty anymore, and the swing was a bright red colour as you sat on it once you didn't see any other kid around who might want to use them and let yourself feel the breeze on your face and hair as you kicked your legs in and out. Your father used to make you feel like you could touch the sky with how high he helped you go, "you're going to touch the clouds, mia piccola stella", he would say and you would laugh loudly.

You missed him every single day, but over the years, your grief allowed you remember all of the happy moments you lived with him, cherishing them close to your heart. Spending the whole weekend in Monza and attending the race was something you hadn't done without him since he passed away. The circuit was your father's favourite - "it's the fans, Y/N, there's a thrill in the air that no other circuit has - Tifosi cover the streets, they're all you can see around town and it's magical almost" he would say to you, so when you noticed the conference was in the area and coincided with the Grand Prix weekend, both you and your mother agreed you should take the opportunity.

On your way back to the hotel, you stopped by the track, wondering what the preparations for a race weekend looked like after so many years. You still followed the sport, but you never got the chance to catch this on television.

"Oh my, oh my", you heard someone say beside where you were standing, "I can't believe my eyes, it's Y/N Y/L/N".

Turning around you spotted Salvatore, one of the mechanics your father worked with. He also had kids around your age and you would often play together whenever you were both in the garage for the weekend.

"Salvatore!", you cheered, giving him a big smile after kissing each of his cheeks, "you better believe your eyes then".

"It's been so long since I've seen you last", he recalled, rubbing your back softly. You and your mother had gone to Maranello for a tribute ceremony the team had for your father - that had been the last time he saw you.

"It has been, yes - I'm sorry", you apoligised. You told the team you'd be around and so much had happened since and you only watched it through a screen instead of living it in the flesh.

"It's okay, it was the time you needed - What brought you to Monza this weekend?", he wondered as he walked inside the paddock with you, scanning his card and getting you both in.

"A work trip actually - I finished a conference yesterday and I also gave a lecture at the university", you nodded, "and my father always loved Monza", you smiled at the memory, "he knew how cliché that sounded, but he always said there wasn't a better weekend on the calendar. And I've missed the rush, too", you offered, letting the tears flow freely and accepting them even though you were in the middle of the paddock, loud noises coming from every angle as the teams prepared the finishing touches for the upcoming race.

"He's very proud of you, I'm sure", Salvatore comforted, "and everyone will be happy to see you here - the little girl with the high pigtails is a grown woman now who attends conferences and gives lectures, who would've known?", he joked as you stepped inside the garage.

"Is this little troublemaker Y/N Y/L/N?", one of the oldest mechanics said after he applied a sticker to the halo.

When your father took you to the races, everyone knew they had fun guaranteed with you, always pulling pranks and laughing loudly, "my troublemaker days are over, I'm a responsible woman now", you chuckled, giving a quick wave to everyone before greeting everyone individually.

"Do you have tickets for this weekend?", Fred asked. Even though he had just met you, it was clear to him how much you mattered to everyone who worked with your father, "we can get you a pass, I'm sure".

"I have grandstand tickets", you stated.

"Silvia!", the team principal called the woman, making her approach him and rub your arm kindly, "do we have any guest passes left?".

"Let me check", Silvia mumbled, "we have one left, actually! Charles didn't even notice he asked us to save a ticket for his mother twice - I'll get it for you, it's in the meeting room upstairs", she smiled.

"Charles will also be very happy to see you around, did you tell him you were coming?", Salvatore mentioned.

"I haven't actually - I've been really busy", you mumbled.

You met the monégasque driver when he was Scuderia Ferrari's development driver and Prema Racing driver in Formula Two, accidentally running into him in the dining area of the hospitality and ending up spending most of his free time there throughout the whole weekend.

Quickly, it became a tradition to do so whenever he was over and whenever he was done with his Formula Two duties and you happened to be at the same track.

When you stopped attending races because the memories were too painful, you lost contact, opting to react to eachother's Instagram stories every now and again and sending quick messages through the social media app.

"The boys arrive today, but they're only coming to the track tomorrow", Fred added, "you'll have plenty of time to catch up".

Charles had finally arrived to the hotel after all the flights and drives, thankful that there weren't many fans around already and he could get inside without a hitch, checking in and getting his room keys.

"Hold it, per favore!", he said to the person on the lift, dreaming of the changing from his travel outfit and the bed waiting for him. When his hand helped him inside the metal door, he couldn't believe his eyes, "Y/N?".

He could remember the last time he saw you. He had just started his first season as a Formula One driver for Alfa Romeo and you had come back to the paddock for the first race of the season like you promised you would. He sat with you whenever he had a little break, you caught up with him and his early days as a driver with a seat rather than just watching from the sidelines.

"Charles, hi!", you gasped, hugging him and feeling him squeeze your body against his.

"I- what are you doing here? Are you here for the race?", he wondered. This couldn't be a mere coincidence. He hoped it wasn't.

"I had a work trip here that coincided with this weekend, and I thought of it as a sign", you explained, "you're staying in this hotel too?".

"Yes, the team are at the one where we usually stay for the weekend, but until Thursday, I'm staying here, yes", he smiled, "Goodness, I feel like it's both been forever and like it was yesterday", he chuckled, "do you want to get a drink? I have a nice selection in my room whenever I stay", he offered.

"I'd love to, Charles", you said, hoping that the tingly feeling on your tummy mirrored Charles' own excitement at this unexpected but valued encounter, "are you sure though? You just arrived".

"No, don't worry about that! My room is... 705", he checked on the card he was handed, "so you can join me now or maybe you want to set those things down first and meet me there?", he pointed to the bag you were carrying.

"Yes, this is quite heavy actually", you blushed, "my room is on this floor, so I'll meet in your room in fifteen? I need to freshen up because I've been walking around town all day".

Leaving the elevator on your floor, Charles waved at your before the doors closed andyou headed to your door. Stepping inside, you left the totebag with the books you bought in the chair before heading to the bathroom, brushing out any tangles in your hair and splashing your face with water to freshen up.

After getting yourself ready to go, you went up to Charles' floor, knocking on the door and waiting for him.

"Come in, come in!", Charles offered after he opened the door, "I've unpacked but kept it very organised still", he chuckled as you walked inside the room. It looked the same as yours did, only a different colour pallette for the decoration.

"How have you been?", you wondered once you sat down and shared some sparkling water, neither of you really feeling like drinking anything alcoholic.

"You surely know more about me than I know about you", Charles smiled, "but it's been good, this season has been great so far, I feel like we're in a really good path and things are working well", he took a sip from his cup, "the team have done such an incredible job".

"And the driver on the car doesn't have anything to do with that?", you squinted at his ever so modest take on things.

"I suppose I do", he blushed.

"I may have not been here, but I've watched every race - minus some of the ones at daft o'clock, I only watched those when my sleep was all messed up", you joked, "you're an essential part of this team, Charles, everyone can see that so you should give yourself more credit", you touched his arm.

Even though it had been years since you last saw eachother, you hit it off immediately and it seemed like no time had passed.

"And you? What is this work trip that brought you here?", Charles nodded.

"You're not the only one who gets to travel for work, alright?", you tsked, "I had to do a presentation on a conference and then the department invited me for a lecture, nothing big".

"Who's being ever so modest now, hm? That is fantastic, mon ange!", he congratulated before he noticed the words coming out of his mouth.

"When I noticed it fell around this weekend, I told my mum and she said that I should try and dip my foot here - I've been wanting to come to race sooner but...", you trailed off.

"I get it - it's hard going to the places that remind you of them", Charles took his hand in yours and squeezed it, "he was so cherished by the team, I'm sure everyone will be very happy to see you".

"Actually, I walked to the track today so I could see it up close before the race - I hoped it wouldn't be such a big shock once I got there on Friday -, and I bumped into Salvatore", you smiled, "he let me go into the garage and I saw everyone, it was really nice", you looked up so the tears on your eyes wouldn't fall.

"I can get you a pass, let me just text Silvia!", Charles said as he got his phone from his pocket with his free hand.

"She already did", you chirped, "apparently you booked two for your mother, so they had a spare one".

"You see, a couple of years ago, my mum was too late to tell me she was coming to the race and I was out of the guest passes, so I always have one on hold for her and I sent the list with her name on it as well", he admitted, "but it seems to have turned out just fine - meant to be even".

You ended up requesting room service for the two of you for dinner, neither feeling like going out of the room after feeling so comfortable there. Conversation was steady, vulnerability was easy to show and the butterflies were happily dancing on your tummy.

"I better get to my room, then", you stated once Charles told you about what he needed to do tomorrow once he was at the track.

"I didn't mean it that way - I'm fine!", he said after doing his best attempt at containing a big yawn, "I'm fine!".

"You're tired, and frankly so am I", you admitted as you got up from the bed.

"Would you like to come with me to the track tomorrow? If you don't have other plans that is", he mumbled the last part.

"I don't - I was just going to work a little bit, but if you find me a spot in the hospitality, I'll happily take my stuff there", you smiled reassuringly as you put on your shoes and headed to the door.

"I can take you to your room", Charles got up from the bed and followed you.

"No need, my room is just downstairs", you reasoned, kissing his cheek in a silent thank you still.

"That's right - so we'll go tomorrow after breakfast?", he rested his body on the door once you opened it.

"Yes, that works for me! Good night, Charles", you smiled before walking up to the elevator.

.

Walking inside the hospitalitynwith Salvatore and the rest of the team, he was quick to show you where you could set up.

"Charles likes to spend as much time as possible with the fans and it's right about now that they start becoming more and more and they're everywhere, too", he explained as he helped you in the table on the lounge area, "there's food and coffee in there if you need anything", Salvatore smiled, "if you need anything, just ask someone".

"Thank you - this is perfect", you assured, sitting down and working on your laptop and reading some of the books you had bought.

Charles and Carlos finally arrived at the hospitality, greeting the team and talking to them for a while before they headed upstairs for a meeting.

"You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend and you were bringing her here", Carlos told Charles as he poured some coffee on a mug after the meeting.

"I don't - I haven't brought a girlfriend here", Charles quirked an eyebrow at his team-mate.

"So who is that young woman you just smiled at and are pouring coffee for after giving her the heart eyes?", it was the spanish driver's turn to raise his eyebrows.

"Oh, Y/N!", Charles smiled as he mentioned your name, "she's an old friend! Her father was a mechanic before he passed away a few years ago - the older team members have known her since she was little, everyone loves her", he mused.

"Everyone loves her - I can see that", Carlos chuckled as he followed Charles to the table.

"We don't want to interrupt or disturb you too much", Charles announced as he set the mug next to your laptop.

"It's fine, sit sit!", you encouraged as you closed the books you no longer needed to make room for them, "I'm Y/N", you told Carlos.

"I'm Carlos", he smiled back, "nice to meet you", he said before you dove into conversation, discussing anything that popped into your minds and getting to know eachother.

"Don't let her fool you into believing she has always been a responsible, put together girl because she used to steal and hide all of our tools!", Antonio, one of the engineers pointed at you after he got himself a bottle of water, "Charles knows her tricks already but you, Carlos, don't fall for that!".

"You loved it every time I was on the computers and drew on Paint! You even had one of my drawings as the background for almost an entire season!", you threw at him as he approached you, patting the top of your head protectively.

"I'd like to see that! I've only known her since she was way older", Charles pouted.

"Jealous much?", Carlos teased, his voice above a whisper as Charles seemed to get flustered.

"Is it really that obvious?", the monégasque driver mumbled once you got up to get something to eat, "I've had a crush on her since I was a development driver".

"Why have you never said anything? She seems like she really cares about you too", Carlos mused as he thought to a few moments before where you too gqve him heart eyes. He would have to be blind to not notice it, and even then the energy between you too would still be felt.

"The timing wasn't right, I guess - her father passed away almost right after as I became a driver for Alfa Romeo, and she hasn't been in the paddock since. We have texted every now and again over the years and now she happened to be here for the race too", Charles offered.

"I'd say you should take a shot - trust me, she likes you back", Carlos patted Charles' shoulder after getting up, watching you go back to the table with a big smile on your face.

.

After Charles took pole position in qualifying, the team stayed a bit longer for the debrief, going over a few points of the discussion and the changes they still needed to make before the race.

"Y/N! We're having dinner at one of our favourite restaurants in town and I'm counting you in, okay?", Charles said as he spotted you in the garage, followed by Andrea, who had been keeping you company along with his brothers, Charlotte and Pascale.

"Your family is here for you, Charles, I don't want to intrude", you said as you got up, unaware of the Leclerc matriarch behind you.

"Chérie, of course you won't be intruding - we'd love to have you there!", Pascale chirped in.

"Well, in that case...!", you smiled, "just tell me where I should go and at what time, or are we going straight there?", you wondered.

"I was thinking we could go straight there if that's okay with you - you can can come with me and Andrea can ride with my brothers", Charles suggested, "unless you need to go back to the hotel", he quickly scrambled.

"No, I'm fine! Unless this outfit is not restaurant appropriate", you muttered as you looked down. Against all odds, you managed to not get any food stains on your dress. It was a midi skirt cut, flowy to allow your body to feel cool considering the warm Italian day.

"It's fine - you're fine, you look beautiful!", Charles was quick to assure you.

"Good, that's good then", you smiled before excusing yourself to go and get your things.

"You have to tell her, Charles - your affection is no use to either of you if you keept it in here", Pascale tapped her son's chest.

.

"Y/N", Charles called you before he had to go and get ready for the race, "I have something for you - we do", he said as some of the mechanics, including Salvatore, followed him.

"Oh, what is it?", you smiled.

"We commented with some guys back at the factory that you were here with is this weekend and they found something we thought you'd like to have", Salvatore said as he handed you a bag.

Looking inside, you noticed an old Ferrari cap and some embroidered lettering on the side, recognising it immediately. When you were a teenager, you decided to try different hobbies and hand embroidery was the one that stuck the most, so much so that on one of the race weekends, you embroidered caps for everyone on the team that asked you.

"My wife remembered the one I have at home and then the guys at Maranello found your father's and apparently one you did for Charles' as well", Salvatore offered as you took them both out.

"Dad always said he had plenty of embroidered things at home and this one was the one he had to travel with him", you chuckled as tears welled up in your eyes, feeling Charles soothingly rub your back.

"I remember getting this and loving it - I thought I had lost it!", Charles said, unaware if how close he was pulling you together so he could get a peek at the old caps.

"There's some loose string here", you chuckled, wiping the tears and fiddling with the red thread, "I didn't know how to properly tie it at the start, I kept losing it - I think I even glued it down at some point. Thank you for bringing this out", you smiled.

"Would you mind if I wore this for the driver's parade?", Charles asked you.

"I was planning on wearing my dad's while I watched the race", you offered, testing the fabric and placing it on your head before doing the same with Charles, fixing it on his head and looking up at him.

You never got over how handsome he was. The little scar on his cheek, his mole, the smile that never failed to make you smile, his beautiful green eyes. His kindness, his gentleness, his talent - there wasn't a way to deny how much you liked it. How much you liked him.

"We will be matching then!", Charles squeezed you against him before going to his driver's room.

Only when Charles was headed to take P1 on the grid did he hand the cap back to Salvatore and put on his helmet, giving you a wink before he left.

"How are you feeling?", Pascale asked as she sat next to you to watch the race. Over the last couple of days, she had grown close to you, not only because you had captured her son's heart and she wanted to get to know you, but also because Charles had told her how emotionally charged it was for you to be at the track, in Monza nonetheless.

"It's a lot", you admitted, "everyone has been so kind and warm, so all of the heavy feelings have been slowly infiltrating the good ones and it's been easier to deal with them like that", you blinked away a few tears.

"I get it", Pascale nodded, "losing someone is not easy, and I can't imagine what it feels like for you - the boys and I talk about my late husband every now and again and it gets easier to talk about it, I think that's what it is anyway".

"Yes, definitely like that. My mum and I have reached the point where we don't cry at every mention - despite what you might have noticed this weekend", you chuckled.

"It's emotional, chérie - I, for one, always cry whenever the boys achieve their goals. Hervé isn't here to see them, but I know he knows, and the boys know how proud he is of them", Pascale smiled, keeping some tears at bay too.

"You raised amazing young men, don't doubt that", you let out. At this point, you were sure she had noticed or had at least an inkling. As any mechanic for the red team who knew you since you were a kid would say, you were never a good liar - anytime you said you didn't touch something, they knew to look in your backpack first.

"Thank you, dear", she added, "you know, Charles is quite careful in who he lets in, but he's never been good at hiding how much he cares about someone and I can tell he cares a great deal about you".

"I care a lot about him too", you smiled before you were handed a pair of headphones each with the race about to start.

When Charles successfully kept the cars behind him away with a good gap, you clapped and watched the remaining laps number get smaller and smaller until there was only the current lap left.

Charlotte held your hand together with hers as you watched Charles be the first driver to see the checkered flag and when Xavi yelled "And P1!" into the radio, you did your happy dance, not having a care in the world about what others thought as you watched the Tifosi erupt in cheer.

"He did it! He did it!", Pascale clapped for her son, Arthur hugging her while Lorenzo did the same with his girlfriend while you softly touched your father's embroidered name on your cap with your fingers.

Running up to Parc Fermé, you stood in the sea of red, waiting for him to come back and hug them.

"You did so well, congratulations!", you said as you pulled Charles for a hug.

"Had my good luck charm with me!", he smiled back, kissing your cheek as he took advantage of you being shielded by the mechanics and engineers.

The team celebratory dinner was going really well, everyone happy with how the weekend panned out with both drivers on the podium and enjoying the meal on the restaurant's outside patio.

"If you guys want dessert, they're going to set them out on that table and you can grab as much as you like", Fred spread the message as you could see all kinds of sweet foods being brought out, a pudding catching your eye along with some raspberries.

You and Charles got the dessert plates and served yourselves, noticing the staff was already clearing up the tables, meaning you'd have to move to the bar area, many people opting to skip dessert and get some drinks instead.

"You can see the stars so clearly tonight", you mused as you looked up at the sky, setting your plate on the high table.

"My father always said that the stars did shine brighter here, and tonight the sky is very clear", Charles hummed in agreement, looking at your face. The moonlight and the dim lighting for the lamps and fairy lights illuminated all your features perfectly - your smile as you looked up formed the dimples on your cheeks, your eyes that were a tiny bit squinty and the way your whole body seemed relaxed.

The goosebumps on your arms caught his eye though, "here, have this", Charles said as he offered you the cardigan he had carried around all night since according to him his mother made him do it because it would be cold.

"Thanks", you smiled as you pulled the sleeves and folded them around your wrist so they would fit better, "this is really comfy, I might steal this if you don't ask for it back", you joked.

"I don't mind if you keep it, you have had my heart all these years", Charles stated. There it was.

"What?", you faced him, heart beating fast inside your chest.

"It's true, I've had a crush on you since I first met you, and these past couple of days have been amazing, and I can't believe it took me all these years to realize how I truly feel about you Y/N", he told you, no stutter or sign of regret on his face.

"I haven't been around, really, it's my fault", you fiddled with your thumbs before looking at him again, "but I can't lose you again".

"You never lost me, amour", he smiled as his eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips, his hand cupping your cheek your mouth pressed on his, ignoring everything and everyone around you.

Interrupting the kiss for air, Charles giggled as you hid your face in his neck once you heard the cheers and whistles, your lashes tickling him as his arms circled your waist and pulled you closer to him.

"He wins inside the track and outside of it, Charles Leclerc, P1 to Y/N's heart!", Carlos shouted before whistling again.

"Just so you know, I want an invite to your wedding!", Salvatore pointed his finger at you, "I still remember when you invited me for your wedding with Vettel!".

"You and Seb?", Charles chuckled once you pulled away from his neck.

"Sebastian was my favourite when I was little", you giggled, hiding your face on Charles' chest this time, "when he was back in RedBull still, I asked my father to ask him if he could take a photo with me and I cherished that for so many years - it was my most prized possession!".

"I can't promise you Seb, but I can promise you the very best of me", Charles said as he kissed the top of your head.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fluff #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

[tofixtheshadows]

I've been thinking a lot lately about how Kabru deprives himself.

Kabru as a character is intertwined with the idea that sometimes we have to sacrifice the needs of the few for the good of the many. He ultimately subverts this first by sabotaging the Canaries and then by letting Laios go, but in practice he's already been living a life of self-sacrifice.

Saving people, and learning the secrets of the dungeons to seal them, are what's important. Not his own comforts. Not his own desires. He forces them down until he doesn't know they're there, until one of them has to come spilling out during the confession in chapter 76.

Specifically, I think it's very significant, in a story about food and all that it entails, that Kabru is rarely shown eating. He's the deuteragonist of Dungeon Meshi, the cooking manga, but while meals are the anchoring points of Laios's journey, given loving focus, for Kabru, they're ... not.

I'm sure he eats during dungeon expeditions, in the routine way that adventurers must when they sit down to camp. But on the surface, you get the idea that Kabru spends most of his time doing his self-assigned dungeon-related tasks: meeting with people, studying them, putting together that evidence board, researching the dungeon, god knows what else. Feeding himself is secondary.

He's introduced during a meal, eating at a restaurant, just to set up the contrast between his party and Laios's. And it's the last normal meal we see him eating until the communal ending feast (if you consider Falin's dragon parts normal).

First, we get this:

Kabru's response here is such a non-answer, it strongly implies to me that he wasn't thinking about it until Rin brought it up. That he might not even be feeling the hunger signals that he logically knew he should.

They sit down to eat, but Kabru is never drawn reaching for food or eating it like the rest of his party. He only drinks.

It's possible this means nothing, that we can just assume he's putting food in his mouth off-panel, but again, this entire manga is about food. Cooking it, eating it, appreciating it, taking pleasure in it, grounding yourself in the necessary routine of it and affirming your right to live by consuming it. It's given such a huge focus.

We don't see him eat again until the harpy egg.

What a significant question for the protagonist to ask his foil in this story about eating! Aren't you hungry? Aren't you, Kabru?

He was revived only minutes ago after a violent encounter. And then he chokes down food that causes him further harm by triggering him, all because he's so determined to stay in Laios's good graces.

In his flashback, we see Milsiril trying to spoon-feed young Kabru cake that we know he doesn't like. He doesn't want to eat: he wants to be training.

Then with Mithrun, we see him eating the least-monstery monster food he can get his hands on, for the sake of survival- walking mushroom, barometz, an egg. The barometz is his first chance to make something like an a real meal, and he actually seems excited about it because he wants to replicate a lamb dish his mother used to make him!

...but he doesn't get to enjoy it like he wanted to.

Then, when all the Canaries are eating field rations ... Kabru still isn't shown eating. He's only shown giving food to Mithrun.

And of course the next time he eats is the bavarois, which for his sake is at least plant based ... but he still has to use a coping mechanism to get through it.

I don't think Kabru does this all on purpose. I think Kui does this all on purpose. Kabru's Post Traumatic Stress Disorder should be understood as informing his character just as much as Laios's autism informs his. It's another way that Kabru and Laios act as foils: where Laios takes pleasure in meals and approaches food with the excitement of discovery, Kabru's experiences with eating are tainted by his trauma. Laios indulges; Kabru denies himself. Laios is shown enjoying food, Kabru is shown struggling with it.

And I can very easily imagine a reason why Kabru might have a subconscious aversion towards eating.

Meals are the privilege of the living.

#Dungeon Meshi #Delicious in Dungeon #Kabru #Kabru of Utaya #Laios Touden #Dungeon Meshi meta #you can have him in the tags too. as a treat. #Dungeon Meshi spoilers #this was directly inspired by livelaughlaios's post about Kabru self harming but I decided it got too long to make it a direct reply #this is a theory I've been working on for weeks because I kept noticing this while skimming for screencaps #I'm hesitant to trigger tag this because of the way certain subcultures on tumblr operate #but if anyone needs me to add a content warning please let me know #also I included image descriptions! I did my best #I think they even help illustrate my points but my god were they sad to write. Kabru is so fucking sad you guys #musings with Dea

[strawberrymochin]

Springtime Fushiguros♪

Context-: exploring the memories of childhood of fushiguros, marking the spring time of you and satoru gojo.

Lullaby-: Megumi caught cold so you sing a lullaby to help him fall asleep. (Jealous gojo)

As much as you love the smell of freshly wet soil during rainy season; the sound of water droplets pouring down from the dusky clouds, kissing the earth; the croaking of the frogs— megumi hates it.

Due to the weather changing season and unfortunate circumstances, last day he came back from school, totally drenched in rainwater. Not to mention, his drenched hair, reminded you of his striking resemblance to his late father—toji fushiguro.

You have only seen him once, when shoko introduced his photo to you as the zenin guy born without any cursed energy; who killed riko amanai. And who almost killed your— nvm. You don't even wanna recall those days. It hurts too much.

Thankfully, gojo was out for a mission along with ichiji and he wasn't about to return till tomorrow morning. He would probably shout out loud, clinging up to you, asserting his precious megumi being possessed by toji.

As for now you've tucked him to bed, beside Tsumiki, after feeding him chicken and bok choy soup especially including ginger with mushrooms cuz that's how he likes it. It will help unblocking his sinuses, getting rid of his cold faster.

You exit the kids room, switching off the lights.

You were almost done with dishes, scrubbing off the rice bowl of tsumiki, humming a tune, close to your heart, which you have no idea where you picked up from, unaware of a tall shady figure approaching you.

All of a sudden you felt two arms sneaking around your waist, pulling you closer.

"Wh—" your squeak was cut off shortly, by a hand pressed to your mouth, "shh! baby...wouldn't want the kids to wake up." Satoru' velvet voice coaxed you to calm down. His warm breath fanned near your neck, as he slowly trailed kisses over there.

"You were supposed to come back tomo—" a gasped as gojo bit on the shell of your ear, "finished the mission fast," he said, "so I can spend the night with you", nibbling on your ear.

He pushes his pelvis forward, so it touches your lower back, slowly grinding on you as his hands roam on your body, trying to memorize every curve, remembering the bliss of having you close to him.

You figured out he teleported inside the apartment as the door was locked and gojo doesn't carries house keys with him since he would loose it somewhere.

"Satoru i haven't finished doing the dishes" you say as he presses kisses on you shoulder blade.

"We can finish that later. I need you." He says, removing the bowl from your hand, opening the tap to wash your hand. "Need you so bad." You could feel his voice longing with desire as he turns you around hastily.

You find your hands wrapped around his neck, his lips locked on yours, tongue slipping in. Every ounce of oxygen disappeared from your lungs as you were making out with him.

"Aachho"

Your eyes widened as you push satoru away hard, whipping your head to the side to see the door knob twisting.

Megumi comes out rubbing his nose looking for you.

"Megumi you need something?" You ask, trying to cool down your racing heart.

"I can't sleep." He walks up to you, dragging his blanket, practically mopping the floor.

"If you can't sleep then go to bed and count sheeps." Megumi gets startled at the voice, which he recognise as his sensei's.

"Why are you here?"

"Cuz it's my house."

"Weren't you supposed to come tomorrow? Why are you early?" The kid expresses his disappointment.

"And weren't you supposed to be asleep now? Why are you up disturbing my mome—" your sharp glare ceases gojo's further words.

"Then, how 'bout i sing a lullaby to you? It will help you fall asleep. Kk." You say, turning your head to Megumi, guiding him to your bedroom.

"Wait—so he's sleeping with us?" Gojo questions stopping you midway.

"Yeah. And yeah please finish the dishes before you join us. Let's go 'gumi." You vanish into your bedroom along with Megumi.

"Such a cock-block" he whispers, leaning on the counter, rolling up his sleeves before getting started with the dishes, beefing about him. " He gets to cuddle with my y/n more than I do. Damn it."

[ A few moments later ]

Gojo enters, as your soft humming echoes through the room.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

The moonlight catcher reflected several lights, twinkling around the room as you layed there along with Megumi, patting him to sleep.

How I wonder what you are!

He couldn't help but wonder; wonder what you are; how did he get so lucky? To have you behind his back.

Up above the world so high,

He needs you like one needs oxygen to breathe; he would search for you in every birth like river searches for sea. His eyes would be yearning, dying for one look of yours since you are the world he has ever known.

Like a diamond in the sky.

You may have no idea, but the only star in his sky, whose shine would even fade diamonds is you.

Megumi's asleep. You sit up straight, looking at gojo, leaning at the door frame. You tilted your head, smiling apologetically.

Gojo sighs playfully, straighting up himself, walking past the bedroom door. A few secs later he brings in a sleeping tsumiki, cradled in his arms, laying her beside Megumi, tucking them into warm blankets as gojo joins in.

#jjk #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk megumi #jjk satoru #jujutsu kaisen x megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen x satoru gojo #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x you #satoru x you #satorugojo #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu gojo #megumi x you #megumi x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu satoru #satoru fluff #megumi fluff #springtime fushiguros

[barcaatthemoon]

be like water || fridlona rolfo x reader ||

you try to pull away from frido when your feelings become too much to handle.

you didn't think it was possible for you to be so stupid. there had never been a doubt in your mind about following frido and ingrid from wolfsburg to barcelona. they were your best friends, and it made ingrid feel a lot better if she was close enough to really look out for you. what you couldn't believe was how quickly you managed to fall for frido once mapi came into the picture.

in all actuality, you had always had feelings for frido. she was kind, caring, and gorgeous. however, she had always ever spoken about boyfriends. you knew that didn't mean your crush was completely hopeless, but you also had trouble imagining a reality where frido liked you back.

you could think of a million reasons why frido wouldn't have felt the same way about you. there would always be so many things standing in the way of your happy ending. you were fairly certain that frido was straight since she had never shown an interest in any of your other teammates before. if it wasn't that, then the age gap was sure to get you. you had been barely 18 whenever the two of you had met, and it didn't help that ingrid had introduced you as "the baby" of the norweigan team.

'baby norway' was what they had been calling you since your call up to the national team at the tender age of 15. you had been a super sub back then, but it had only taken you a year and a half to become a consistent starter. you'd been blessed with practically no injuries, none that required rehab or surgeries at the very least. however, all of that came crashing down around you at barcelona.

it had started with a little tweak of your ankle during practice. frido cursed herself for not noticing it earlier whenever you went down at the next game. you knew that it wasn't her fault, you had already begun to pull away from her. still, she sat with you in the trainer's room while it got checked out.

"frido, you don't have to stay here," you told her. ingrid was out on the pitch and mapi was sitting in the stands with the rest of the injured players. you had hoped that frido would have stayed on the pitch, but instead, she had been insistent on coming with you. it was hard for you to avoid your feelings whenever frido openly showed how much she cared for you.

"jona has already subbed me off. am i just supposed to leave you here all by yourself?" frido asked you. you opened your mouth to tell her that was exactly what she should do, but she cut you off first. "don't be ridiculous. you and ingrid were there for me whenever i got hurt. i want to be here for you too."

"frido, please. this is the last thing that i need right now. just, go take a shower and calm down," you said. frido couldn't come up with a reason to argue with you, so she reluctantly left you in the trainer's room. once she was gone, you laid back and took a deep breath. it felt like a weight was lifted off of your chest once she was gone, only to be replaced by guilt clawing its way through your throat. frido just wanted to be there for you, but you couldn't get over your stupid feelings for her long enough to let her.

…

"so, tell me again why i'm the one picking you up from the hospital when i know for a fact that frido asked to do this?" ingrid asked you. she had been around countless times when frido offered to take care of you or escort you from appointment to appointment.

"we haven't gotten to spend much time together lately, and i missed you, that's all." it wasn't a complete lie, but ingrid knew that it wasn't the whole truth either. she pulled down a side street and turned her car off. you couldn't get out on your own, so the two of you were trapped there until ingrid got the truth out of you.

"did something happen between the two of you?" ingrid asked. you shook your head as you pulled your good leg up into the seat in front of you. you rested your head against your knee to keep it turned away from ingrid. "you still love her, don't you?"

"of course i love her, she's my best friend. i came all the way from germany for her, ingrid. i just didn't know that i couldn't be around her alone," you confessed. ingrid paused as she took in your words. you had always been adamant that you came for both of your friends, even if ingrid knew otherwise. she knew all about the secret feelings you kept for frido, just like she knew how conflicted frido felt about you.

"mapi is going to kill me for this, but i want you to stay with me for the next week or so, okay? neither frido nor i want you to be alone, but i won't force you to stay with her if you can't handle it," ingrid told you. you thanked her quietly as she started the car up again and drove off towards her apartment.

she didn't tell you about frido already being at your place. ingrid didn't tell you a lot of things, just like she didn't tell frido anything either. she kept both of your secrets until one of you were ready to come out with it. she wanted to help you desperately, but knew that it wasn't her place to put it all out in the open.

…

"i don't get it. did i do something?" frido was practically tearing her hair out as she sat on the couch next to ingrid and aitana. your stay with mapi and ingrid had ended over a week ago, but you were still dodging all of frido's texts and calls.

"it's not you, i promise," ingrid reassured the older woman. "the baby just has some things to work out, that's all. this is a difficult time for her, she's going through a lot."

"but why is she pushing me away? i could help her, but she won't let me." tears sprung to frido's eyes. you had always seemed closer with ingrid because of your shared nationality, but it had never been an issue for frido before. "i need a minute."

"frido, wait!" ingrid shouted. frido was standing, but she didn't make a move to leave her place. "let me drive you to (y/n)'s. i think you two realy need to talk."

"she doesn't want anything to do with me. i'm not you, it's okay," frido said. ingrid sighed and pulled frido outside. the drive from your place was pretty short, usually just a ten minute walk.

ingrid felt bad about blindsiding you, but this conversation couldn't wait any longer. both you and frido were tearing yourselves apart trying to navigate feelings and your friendship. ingrid knew how easy it could be for both of you, and that was all she wanted. she just wanted her friends to be happy, even if the thought of making a move terrified the both of them.

you hadn't expected any visitors, so ingrid and frido's arrival had taken you by surprise. ingrid shoving frido through your front door and closing it for you was an even bigger one. ingrid knew practically everything, and yet, here she was forcing you to be alone with the person who had been giving you so much grief for the past few months.

"i think we need to talk, but i don't know what to say to you," you told frido. you hobbled over to your couch and sat down. frido just stood in front of you and paced around your living room. "fridolina, calm down."

"no, i can't. i am sick and tired of being calm about this. you've got me worried sick. i care about you so much, and i want to help you through whatever this is, but you won't let me. i know that i'm not ingrid, and i'm sorry, but fuck! let me help you." frido's voice grew as she spoke, but she never really got close to shouting at you. "talk to me, please. i miss the way things were in germany, it felt so much easier back then."

"trust me, it was never any easier. we just weren't alone back then like we are now," you told her. frido glanced down at you, a look of confusion on her face. "i don't want you to be ingrid, frido. i love you for you, and that's the problem."

"your problem is that you love me?" frido asked you. you nodded, unable to look up and meet her gaze. you kept your eyes down as you felt her approach you. the couch dipped down as frido sat down next to you. you shuddered when her arm wrapped around you, even though you had been craving her affection since you started to distance yourself. "look at me, (y/n), please."

"i can't," you whispered. frido sighed as she pressed a kiss to the side of your forehead. "i can't do this. i have to talk to jona. i have to go back to wolfsburg or just somewhere else."

"don't run away from your feelings. just look at me, please," frido pleaded with you. she was on the verge of getting on her knees and begging you to look at her. you didn't know why, but something in her voice compelled you to go against your instincts.

your eyes met tearful blue ones, and you nearly broke because of it. frido gently caressed your cheek, rubbing her thumb along your cheekbone as she stared at you. there was no disgust or pity in frido's eyes, which caught you by surprise. all you could see was relief. your friendship didn't implode on the spot because of your admission, which filled you with a relief that you couldn't even begin to describe.

"i love you too," frido told you. she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against yours. her eyes flicked down to your lips before coming back up to meet your eyes again. "can i kiss you?"

frido barely managed to finish her sentence before you were lurching forward. she caught your body in her arms, allowing for you to practically lay on top of her as the two of your lips met in a passionate kiss. frido began to push you back a bit to catch her breath. you let out a whine as her lips moved off of yours.

"i've wanted this for so long that i don't ever want to stop," you said quietly. frido smiled as she pressed a quick kiss to your lips. "i thought you'd hate me if i told you how i felt. i had tried for so long to be cool and casual, but i couldn't. the more time we spent here without ingrid, the harder it became."

"i wish that you had told me how you felt, but i am not sure that i would have accepted it at first. i think we were both going through something, but that's over now. we have each other, and if you're willing to give me a chance, i'd like to see where this goes." frido's words made your heart swell a little with happiness. it was an odd feeling, finally having your feelings reciprocated. you didn't know what to do with yourself. you didn't know where things were going, but you hoped that they flowed as easily and naturally as your friendship with her had.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #frido rolfo imagine #frido rolfo x reader #fridolina rolfo imagine #fridolina rolfo x reader

[ashersanity]

— “IT’S ALL IN THE FAMILY.”

— summary. because you — you stupid little fuck, should have known better than to assume the worst out of this sick family you’ve been unwillingly forced into from your parents unfaithful divorce. well, guess what? you were fucking right, and now — you only have yourself to blame, baby brother.

— content warning! incest, step-cest, dub-con at best, non-con at worst, brief mentions of bullying and violence, alcohol intoxication, manipulation, big brother whitney being a creep, whiny little sister kylar, daddy bailey being bailey, loser male reader, semi-forced blow job, cream pie, shit writing, no editing, no nothing and shittier plot with two disconnected scenes, went a little overboard with kylar. a little.

— word count? wait, you guys count the fucking words and don’t raw dog it in the notes app? like, real long, I guess. I mean, fucking long.

— asher’s note. “I did it purely for the sister fucking. @princesstokyomoon kept encouraging the filthy thoughts so I had to churn something out. something filthy — and I mean fucking disgusting shit, y’know?”

Divorces papers hastily signed away, the ink dotted onto the lines promising that this was indeed reality along with leathered suitcases packed to the brim. Family problems never were easy, much less when it had all happened far too quickly. To your parents separating, the familiar grip of your mother’s hand stringing you far away from the house you had grew up in, it all seemed like one bad dream. Unfortunately it wasn’t, no. This was the harsh reality of things, hands clasped on your shoulders as you were forced to introduce yourself to the man she had vowed to marry and the children he bore.

Fuck, if only your mother hadn’t remarried.

“This is stupid.” You muttered beneath your breath to which your mother, sharp as ever had somehow heard.

“Oh please, this is necessary. Unless you wish for us to keep on living in that cramped apartment? I am only doing what is needed for us to survive.” She sharply retorted back, not leaving much room to argue with as it was the truth. Your lives had been much more difficult since the divorce, selfish father that took everything else with him and went away to god-knows-where, probably off to spend it all in one go at the sleazy brothel in town. Filthy bitch.

Yes, it had been hard, but if you had been given one more year, finished school for real, graduated and got a job — Perhaps then, you would’ve been able to provide for the two of you and—

“Why don’t you introduce yourself, dear?”

Breaking out of your reverie, you had faintly registered then that you had arrived into this overly large establishment your mom referred to as your new home. Standing before you was probably the man she had fussed about so much during the uneventful drive. Dark, slicked back hair and stern eyes that dragged over your lips down to the curve of your throat, almost as if to criticize. His outstretched arm and hand stuck out waiting, that was probably for yours to shake which you reluctantly did.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir..?” You uttered coolly, enduring the firm grasp he had on your fingers till he finally was the first to pull away.

“Bailey.”

“Bailey.” You repeated back the unfamiliar name as if to slowly get used to it, knowing you wouldn’t.

“Whitney, Kylar, come down here and properly greet your brother.”

One boy — you assumed to be Whitney, a little older than you, stood at the top of the oaky staircase, perched over the banister. Ruffled blonde hair and sharp blue eyes hidden behind his fringe, eyeing you with disinterest as he made his way down the creaking steps and over to you.

“Nice to meet you.” He grinned, taking ahold of your hand in his with what was evidently a faux smile, one that didn’t quite reach his mean eyes that matched his father, a lingering streak of maliciousness in them. Even his grip, barely restrained in its force, threatened to crush your hand before ultimately letting go.

“You too.” Forcing a smile back, both of you knew then, the stifling tension that brewed in the air — Neither of you were going to get along here.

“Hey freak, its your turn.”

Another, you had barely noticed, a smaller girl scuffling about in the background, anxiously fiddling with the ends of her oversized sleeves, skittish green eyes purposefully avoiding your gaze whenever you so much as glanced her way. That must be the only daughter, Kylar. Cute thing she was, though your mind couldn’t allow yourself to continue that stray thought any further considering the implications that’d involve after meeting your soon-to-be-step-sister. Fucking get your mind straight, will you?

“P-Pleasure to meet you..” In contrast to her brother’s confident strides, she shuffled towards you before clasping your soft palms together in a hold, weakly shaking it.

“..Pleasure is all mine.” You replied, matching her weirdly formal way of speaking.

Well, she didn’t seem so bad compared to the rest.

The introduction didn’t last very long, lacking any real warmth usually found between two shared families merging together as one. It felt more stiff than anything though you couldn’t spare the thought to think it any further, an ushered murmur said to make yourself at home.

As you made your way over to your new room, hauling your hefty luggage up the wooden stairs, something within the depths of your guts stirred from the shared eyes that bore into the shape of your back, intently observing your every move.

The walls here felt unbearably bare.

Like the people that lived in it.

Ironically enough, your new room was much bigger than your older one, leaving little room to complain as you did when your mother had announced you’d be moving into a new place. All the reasons, no matter how good had earned nothing but a gentle shake of her head, dead set on her decision to drag you along. And to say you hadn’t even told Robin you’d be moving away, best friends since childhood that shared everything between the two, except for this apparently. Imagining his freckled face, worry etched across his features had you wanting to go back to the town you knew, knowing you couldn’t.

Sighing lowly, you sat down onto your bed, hearing the slightest crinkle beneath your weight as you felt an uncomfortable, sharp lump underneath it. That.. Reaching for the covers, you threw aside the thick blankets that covered the suspicious looking lump, revealing fresh packets of condoms haphazardly scattered across the sheets and an old, raunchy magazine displaying a cute-looking school boy getting brutally fucked against the lockers by his own bully.

Heat burned your face at the lewd sight, quickly shoving your little “gift” under your pillow so you couldn’t spare another glance at it. Fucking bastards and their sick jokes, “gifting” you shit like that.

You weren’t like them. Fucking perverts.

Were you?

Whitney was the first to change that.

From the first time he laid his eyes on you, you knew then what he thought of you, distaste apparent over his features, the slight curve of his upper lip curled into a snarl. It was obvious, your step-brother didn’t like you. Shit, maybe hate would be a more appropriate word for the things he’d do. Whitney had made it clear from the get-go, the empty names you’d call each other were utterly meaningless, rarely slipping past his own lips. ‘Little brother’. Fuck, you were a pain in his side more than anything else, dropping by unannounced into his life just like that simply because your shitty mother happened to divorce, meeting his dead beat father who then strung up with yours.

The blonde didn’t attempt to hide his obvious disapproval of your presence in his house, blatantly knocking his shoulder into yours whenever he passed by, mouth cruelly drawn into a snide grin as you toppled down to the cold, hard, wooden floor with a dull thud. The bullying didn’t stop there either, often encountering the delinquent in the school hallways, surrounded by his usual cronies that stuck to his side like a bunch of desperate, panting puppies, eager for his approval. They simply wouldn’t leave you alone, went through your damn locker too, ransacking everything that sat in there before carelessly throwing aside the remnants into a nearby trash bin, left to fend for yourself.

Weak, useless. That’s what you were to him, and nothing else. Soon enough, he’d get rid of you, have you snap and run away, it was merely a matter of time.

Well, that was the initial plan he had made up in his mind — Too fucking bad for the poor bully that life didn’t go always as planned, not when he caught you fresh out of the shower, worn towel snugly tucked around yours hips, a bit lower and he’d catch a glimpse of your— Fucking snap out of it, Whitney! The fresh droplets of water that’d trickle down the curve of your back, cascading over the smooth surface before gently dripping onto the fuzzy carpet below. Fuck. Didn’t help that he was staring a tad bit too hard, forcing himself to tear his gaze away from your bare form shamelessly displayed before him. You were doing this on purpose, weren’t you? Tryna get him all distracted, fill his thoughts with nothing but your thighs sticky with his cum, your lips lightly parted to obediently suck on his fat cock, lapping away at the beads of pre-cum that trickled over the curved length.

Knew he had cracked the second his hand had reached for his cock, fisting his dick for all it was worth, hem of his shirt roughly held between his teeth as he jerked himself stupid to the thought of you. His annoying little brother, fucking bitch, oblivious to the effects you had on him whenever he came with a stifled curse, several strings of cum that’d messily splatter across the curve of his toned stomach and his cotton sheets, staining it.

You, of course, lay ignorant to his frequent glances trailing over your frame, mistaking it for the hostility he had shown you over the past few weeks. You were partially right, except this time it was out of frustrated lust, cock stirring beneath his ripped jeans at the mere sight of his younger sibling now. God, not even the dumb whores that’d sloppily suck him off in the grimy bathroom stalls between classes did it for him anymore, eyes shut in a haze to imagine it was your mouth instead wrapped around the tip of his cock.

Dumb slut. Dumb fucking slut you were, didn’t know what he had in store for you. Take it as payback from having infested his mind with thoughts of you that stray to other thoughts and to other.. that’d eventually end in the same scenario, fucking your slutty mouth wide open.

Yeah.. Actually having you choke down on his cock didn’t sound half-bad now that he thought about it.

So why not make it happen?

It had been a mistake then to accept his offer over drinks, get to know each other better, he had cheerfully claimed with a friendly arm wrapped around your shoulder. Bullshit. Think he gave a shit about that? The only ache in his mind had gone straight down to his slowly hardening cock underneath his grey sweats as his plan was brought into motion, insistently pouring more and more of his friends stolen bottle into your cup until you had lost track of the exact number. Prideful as ever, you had gulped it all down, unrelenting despite the nausea that had crept in your guts and the dizzying blur of your vision.

A hint of a rosy flush had started to spread throughout your skin, lightly dusting your cheeks with half-lidded eyes intently gazing back at your older brother’s slouched form atop the cushioned couch. The dribbling liquid sloshed lazily in the glassy bottle that threatened to spill from your weakened grasp on it. TV faintly flickering in the background, playing some outdated show that had since long been forgotten by the two of you, leaving the remote abandoned on the coffee table.

“Cmon, don’t be such a baby.” Whitney would taunt whenever you hesitated in your sluggish movements, silently observing the rhythmic bobbing of your throat as you took quick shots from your half-full glass. Lightweight, he mused in his mind.

“I’m not a baby.” You retorted back with that fucking cute pouty expression he adored.

Fuck. That’s the look. That goddamn look of yours he was waiting for. Nothing better than some arrogant slut all fucked up, practically begging to be taken on his own fucking couch.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.”

“Whitney?” Shit, the way you’d call his name all whiny too, slipping past your own lips. Had his cock twitch like fucking hell, painfully aching between his spread legs.

“Hm? What is it?”

“Why are you so mean to me all the time?? What did I ever.. What did I ever do to you?? I—I just don’t get it.” You hiccuped pathetically, stumbling over your own words, already half-drunk from the fizzling alcohol in your system.

Ah, so you didn’t seem to get it at all yet, did you?

How cute.

“‘Cuz I wanna fuck your noisy mouth, that’s why.”

“..What?”

Blinking back at him, you didn’t even get the chance to register or mutter out another word before he was upon you. Knees firmly planted to each side, increasingly aware of his encompassing frame that towered overs yours as his clothed crotch faced your drunken expression. If it had been any other time, perhaps the blonde would’ve paused then to greedily drink in the sight before him, but this was Whitney after all and he never liked to waste time on silly notions like foreplay, preferring the rougher options that came along with it.

So, fuck it all, right?

With practiced ease, he hurriedly shucked down the elastic waistband of his grey sweats past his hips, hefty cock confidently springing free from the constricting confines of the cotton fabric as it lightly smacked against the curve of his bare stomach. Fuck, you haven’t had the slightest idea how long he had waited for this. Merely a matter of a few weeks for you, though for him, your older brother was dying to sink his dick in that whorish mouth of yours. Looked like you’ve never taken a real cock either, snugly shoved down to the hilt of your inexperienced throat that he’d train till it became a sixth sense to you, gratefully swallowing down his salty cum.

Calloused fingertips tenderly dragged along the swollen flesh of your bottom lip, bloodied cut reopening from the time the bully had split your face open on his fists for the whole school to see in the busied courtyard on a particularly rainy day. Licked his knuckles clean too after that rough beating you took, savouring the heady taste of the crimson mess you left behind, groaning all the while. Had him stupidly hard for the rest of the day, itching to relieve some tension once he got back home. Great times, really.

Now would’ve been the time then, probably— to sputter out your firm opposition over this, resist somewhat. Maybe kick the motherfucker in the balls, satisfyingly watch him writhe on the floor in agony before scrambling up the ancient staircase to hysterically yell about how you nearly got raped by your aforementioned step-brother, to your dozing mother. Christ, that would’ve been the sane decision to do then yet, the bubbling drinks coursing through your veins had thoroughly taken its effect on you, blood rushing down lower to the wrong region, the sinking realization nearly making you bolt upright.

Fucking fuck, you were hard.

And Whitney hadn’t failed to notice.

“Shit, are you getting hard from this?” The delinquent snickered hoarsely to himself, making a show to lightly tap at the growing bulge underneath your own jeans, all too visible despite the rough fabric that covered it. “Should’ve known you’d be into it. Your body speaks for itself, y’know. You want this, you cock whore craving slut.”

No, no. This was all wrong. Must’ve been. You liked girls, didn’t you? Squishy cunts and fat tits you could easily slip your cock into — god. Didn’t like guys and if you did, your step-brother who treated you like nothing but shit would’ve been last on the fucking list.

But you secretly do like being used this way, don’t you? Baby brother.

“I’m n-not fucking—“ Attempting to deny the harsh statement, you cut yourself off from the sudden intruding tip eagerly pressed against your lips, flushed cock head leaking thickly and smearing sticky pre-cum all over.

It wasn’t an order nor anything else that hung heavily in the air, a simple gesture, a subtle thrust of his hips that had his actions speak louder than any words would’ve been capable of. Either you do it or not, the delinquent couldn’t have cared less regardless, always used to getting what he wants and by god, if he wasn’t going to fucking get this. Because the signals alarmingly ringing through your head felt faint in the face of this, shakily inhaling the musky scent of your big brother’s throbbing cock subtly twitching in response to your feathered breaths against it, dribbling out more translucent pre-cum that melded with the scarlet stain of your bloodied lips.

Out of your damn mind — That’s what you were. To even properly consider the implication at hand here. Yet your lips won’t stop from parting, from sticking your pink tongue out, clumsily imitating the gestures of those submissive girls in the cheap porns you’d watch underneath your thin covers late at night, shamefully enough. Always thought you’d be on the receiving end of that one day, dutifully patting at the soft hair slotted between your thighs however here you were, shyly pawing at Whitney’s naked hips instead to steady yourself.

All your fault, all your damn fault so shut up and take it, alright? Shouldn’t have led him on like that, now you’re only reaping what you sow, slut.

A delighted sigh softly escaped from the blonde as you finally gave his dick some much needed attention, experimentally running the flat of your tongue along his leaking slit, coaxing out more dribbling fat globs of pre-cum before slowly and carefully taking his full girth in the warm depths of your tight, wet mouth. “Ah— Fuck. Yeah, that’s good.” No way can he hide the barely restrained, high-pitched, almost needy whimper that threatens to slither past him as you so prettily suck him down to the base, slobbering all over his throbbing balls that has him huffing out a cursed moan of satisfaction, eyes rolling back. “F-Fuckin’— god.” Can’t help the sheer guttural groan that slips out from how tightly his baby brother’s virgin lips sweetly glide around him, the uncertainty in your movements making it all the more endearing as you struggle to take him all in, saliva dripping over your chin to land in varying wet dots on the cushioned pillows. Looking so damn pretty like this with a mouthful of cock, your big brother’s pulsing cock specifically. So don’t blame him then when his hips automatically snap back, slender fingers instinctively reaching for the back of your head to entangle themselves through the soft strands of your hair, ruffling it.

Felt more like he was plainly fucking your mouth than you were sucking him off, sharp, punishing thrusts meeting your open mouthed lips to drive himself deeper in that warm throat that reflexively tightened around his length whenever he hit a particularly sensitive spot — drawing another string of adorable, strangled whimpers from you. “Shit, you sure this your first time? You’ve got the mouth of a — hah, fuckin’ filthy glory hole.” Heat prickling up the nape of your neck at the direct statement uttered, the brief realization of your inexperience being taken away like this, from a blowjob. On the giving end. A first, that will mostly likely not be the only first after this, not when you’re unconsciously getting off to the thought for more in store despite your haze filled brain begging you to reason. Ah, fuck. He’s gone and got you stupidly cock drunk now, didn’t he? The bastard. Slurred mutterings tumbling out above you, almost hasty in how he handles you, wanting to truly savor this never-ending moment when his body can’t stop on its own, too eager to be fulfilled of this yearning pleasure he sought out from you firstly. Thankful for your lack of gag reflex that somehow has you forcefully endure the ruthless slam of his hips, struggling grip straining onto his thighs to brace yourself, promising to leave a fresh set of bruising marks on the tanned flesh.

“Gon’ be my lil’ cockwhore, huh? My fuckin’ slut. Goin’ to be so good for— fuck, big brother, yeah?” If treating you so obscenely like this grants him the privilege to have you beneath him, so stupidly on your knees then, fuck, is it goddamn worth it. Every multicoloured bruise splotched along the length of your legs to your elbows, inflicted from his unfortunate beatings took on at every turn. The cold indifference muddled across your features warping to an earnest scowl from simply acknowledging his presence alone, precisely what he wants. To finally recognize your older brother, the churning fear instilling within you, forced to submit to him and worship him rightfully so.

It’ll be more than that though, the sick realization dawning upon him of this opportunity handed to him on a silver plater, free of his taking, of course. Not some other replaceable slut he can find anywhere else by chance, but one forcefully bound to him whether they like it or not since what can you possibly do? Come running with tears in your eyes to your mommy about what your big, mean, older brother did to you? His father will certainly not be one to help you for that matter, that’s for damn sure. Who the hell will believe you then? No one. Fucking nobody. Inadvertently handing him free range to do whatever he so pleases with you, whenever, where the fuck ever. Oh, but it won’t only stop there, y’know. Ruining you fully for the sake of his own selfish pleasure, corrupt that naive view of yours that has you blush bashfully at a bunch of lewd illustrations plastered onto the printed pages. Soon enough, the majority of your days will be lazily spent in his room, leaking cock dribbling profusely from the kitten licks you’ll so cutely give him then while he absentmindedly scrolls on his phone, grinning proudly as you inevitably beg for more of him. And shit, Whitney isn’t one to disappoint either — he’ll have you rightfully rewarded for such behaviour, in public to be exact. Clip a nice, leathered collar around your neck along with a leash too, tug at it a bit to show off his newfound pet, his loyal little brother that sloppily sucks him off and happily sinks onto his hefty cock at a mere snap of his fingers. Drives him fuckin’ crazy merely thinking about it.

That’s right, suck on your big brother’s fat cock to selfishly earn his twisted love, his blind adoration and protection of your being. His pet. His slut. His beloved baby brother. His now blood, flesh and soul tainted thoroughly by him himself. Personally service him on your knees like the whore that he knows you are. Fucking get on your knees and earn it.

All too soon, despite wanting to stretch this further solely to ingrain the addictive noises of your stifled whimpers and drooling mouth inside his perverted mind, visibly struggling to take him all in as he shamelessly used your throat like some sort of flesh light stretched to the hilt — He can feel himself reach the brink of his limit, confident hips stuttering in their steady thrusts to greedily bury the tip of his quivering cock into the back of your throat one last time. “F-Fuck. Stay like that — just fucking stay like that.” He hissed sharply between strained curses, head thrown back like some cheap virgin whore who’s just received his first ever mind blowing blow job. The familiar overwhelming heat curling in the curve of his belly, like a coiling string on the verge of popping. Balls tightening in need, pulsing spurts of his fat load squirting out of the head of his cock to messily splatter across the surface of your pretty fucking face, ruining you for his own amusement.

Should’ve busted his load down your throat just to hungrily watch you swallow it down, though he supposes that the cum stained look adorning your pretty face is a sight to behold on its own, taking a good minute to appreciate the mess before him.

A blank, pristine canvas that he had helped ruin and stain with the filth of his very own actions.

It suits you, really.

“That’s a — hah, good boy.” Whitney heaved roughly between ragged breaths, the uncharacteristically gentle praise laced in his tone differing from his usually sadistic nature. If it weren’t for the sticky mess that obscured your vision along with the heat of his sweating palm placed flat across your forehead, you’d notice the strange fond, warmth that had settled into his softening gaze, a sort of reverence in of itself. “My good fucking boy.”

“So good for big brother, aren’t you?” He smirks knowingly at your hitched gasps of breaths, struggling so stupidly to form back a snarky insult as per usual.

Ah, he gets it now — really fucking gets it, glazed over eyes settling onto your evidently hard, twitching cock still tented pitifully against the front of your jeans, frantically humping at the air like some sort of rabid, horny and untrained puppy in heat, tongue lolling out. Aw, so fuckin’ cute when you’re cock drunk and needy for big brother. Makes him wanna do it all over again.

For that, he should be properly training you then.

“Whitney— fuckin’ cmon, please.” Whining so pathetically in a way that sends a jolt straight down through his spent cock, immediately standing up to attention once more. You’re really asking for it, fuck.

So damn cute, but so impatient too. Maybe he should fuck your virgin ass next, stuff it full of his cum and see what happens to that bratty mouth of yours then. Shut you up a bit.

“Yeah, yeah. I got it. Just— keep still for me.”

Well, can’t be having his little new pet go frustratingly neglected like that, can he?

—

Kylar, your precious little sister, all too eager to be the first, but the second to sink her mark into you. Convince you a bit more.

Needy as she was, she wasn’t as bad as the rest that inhabited this sick place you reluctantly called home, a flicker of warmth among the distant coldness that resided in this house. Much unlike her brother, the dark haired girl didn’t seem to dislike you in the slightest, often shooting you the smallest of smiles whenever you two briefly locked eyes at the dinner table or in the shared hallways by mere coincidence.

‘Course, she did have her questionable moments whenever you caught her rifling through your drawers, namely the ones where your underwear lay neatly folded in the cubicle space. Promptly muttering out an unbelievable excuse as to why she needed your boxers before bolting past your stunned self, red in the face. Or that time she had decided to curl up onto your bed, lovingly burying her nose into the warm, silken sheets that you slept in, relishing in that sweet scent of yours she’d catch a whiff of as you drew closer next to her at the table.

..Yeah, she certainly had unresolved issues, but it beat the constant poking fun at that Whitney would do. The rough shoving into the metallic lockers that’d clank heavily from your weight, the shared snickering that came along with it and the forced blow jobs that you had somehow eased into over time despite yourself. Fuck, why were you even thinking of that asshole?

Freak or not, she didn’t harbour any of the senseless cruelty this town had to selflessly offer and that was good enough. Enough so that you had found yourself increasingly spending more and more of your time with Kylar whenever you weren’t forcibly dragged along to some shoddy place your big brother roped you into, leaving the loner to her own whims for the day.

So it was no surprise then when the two of you grew closer, a little more than you had expected so to be the one sat onto her worn out bed, her hideaway — she’d call it, a moment of respite from the constant teasing she had to go through from her older brother. A means of escape, perhaps? And for you, it was no different either, all the same. Gladly listening to her overexcited rambling about this and that, about the fine mangas she had newly bought at the local, dusty library, the half priced anime figurines she had found on display beyond the glassy windows that separated them — matching pearly bracelets made of shiny gems and rocks carefully picked at the park she’d sow together to gleefully tuck around your wrist, whining sorrowfully at her own being too loose for her delicate wrists. Cute. Your little sister was real fucking cute, more so than you’d like to admit at times.

So much so you couldn’t ignore the growing knots in the pit of your stomach whenever your knees fortuitously bumped against each other, a sign — a silent, repetitive warning of your shared proximity that was crossing past the treacherous line of two mere siblings. Yeah. Okay. So you found her cute, so what? Big fucking deal. Plenty of guys found a girl cute, didn’t mean jack shit, didn’t mean they wanted to fuck her till she clenched pathetically around them, sniffling miserably at being fucked brutally by their kind, soft-spoken big brother they naively put their trust into. Right, that’s what you were. Nothing more. A responsible big brother she could certainly put her faith into since her other piece of shit brother couldn’t bother with that shitty role, something you’d curse him for on the daily. One she could seek out at a moment’s notice, spend time with to her heart’s content like a normal, unsuspecting relationship between siblings should be.

Not some perverted creep of a big brother who’d steal periodic glances her way, instinctively trailing down to the soft, plump and pink flesh of her parted lips, glistening sinfully from the wetness of her saliva — a habit she unconsciously did despite claiming not to. Gulping thickly, you hadn’t registered how her seamless chatter had ceased to a stop, deafening silence befalling upon the both of you as you stared at each other like some sort of stiff actors awaiting for the next act on stage. Wait, were you staring? Fuck, you were — and she hadn’t failed to notice by the looks of it, blooming flush adorning her pretty, pale cheeks you’d like to press gentle, reassuring kisses to, squeeze under the weight of your palm. Maybe have her spill a few stray droplets of tears across the rosy surface while you’re at it, make her cry the same way Whitney did.

Oh, you’re such a fucking bastard for this one.

“W-What is it? Do I have something on my face?” Her sudden squeak had you stilling in your tracks, twisting the spread sheets without meaning to from the timid pitch of her shrill voice. Look at her, trying to hide behind her torn sleeves in an attempt to draw attention away from her bashful blush, becoming a fidgeting mess under your gaze.

Fuck, no. It was more than that, Kylar. It was the pout of your lips that you wore, the black strands of hair that frames your face so beautifully, the exposed sliver of skin of your thighs from that short skirt you slipped on. It was all you, but dammit all — fuck.

“Hm? No, it’s nothing — really.” Liar. Drawing back to create a manageable amount of space between you both, a reminder not to act upon those disgusting urges of yours, better not to. Bad idea to be thinking with your dick, no man’s ever made a reliable decision with that one. Even so, Whitney did it with you and — nothing particularly bad happened, did it? Would it be so wrong, if you were to do the same? Selfishly grasp for what you so dangerously desire, drop meaningless hints here and there to care for her wants, such a gentler option than any other boy could ever treat your dearest little sister?

Would it?

Too lost in your endless train of thoughts, your eyes connecting with Kylar’s green own that bore with such intensity you hadn’t seen before, almost as if contemplating — no, waiting for something to happen. Though you couldn’t tell what it was, her actions were enough so to speak on their own with how she shifted considerably towards you, used mattress dipping from the creaking weight over the wooden floorboards. Ah, was she..?

“Ky—?”

Before your mind was even fully given the chance to process it, like the leap taken before the shuddering dip of a waterfall, her inexperienced, virgin lips clumsily smashed into yours, knocking the wind out of the both of you from the abrupt step taken by your little sister. Sweet. So sweet. Pink tongue tentatively swiping along the scarlet cut of your bottom lip, ushered gasps accompanied by startled squeaks as she timidly gave you what she thought was a simple kiss, but felt more like a pornographic make out session with how she so desperately shoved her tongue deeper. More. Wants more of this, more of that honeyed taste she yearned to savour, to finally enjoy while her other dumb brother so greedily took you away every time she wished to be the one at your side instead. It wasn’t fair, not fair at all! He’s so mean, so why does he get to string you along whenever he so pleases? Should be her, only be her to fill that solemn space. Only her, only her—

“W-Wait, wait— Kyl— fuck.”

As if struck by the weight of what she had just done, the loner recoiled back instantly in a fit of panic from the sheer brashness of her actions. Oh, how could she let herself so easily fall to such temptations? What if you hated her now? Or worse, were repulsed by the kiss? Wouldn’t be able to live it down then, quivering lips and bubbling tears threatening to spill freely down the length of her flushing cheeks from her overactive imagination running rampant — because she’d rather die than to have you loathe her so.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to— umm.. I thought that maybe you.. wanted me to—“ The girl stuttered uselessly, trailing off in an aimless direction only to shrink back in her unbecoming position. Silence only answered her in return which she took as the harsh reality of rejection, mustering up all the courage she possibly had in her lithe frame to at the very least subtly peek at the current expression painted along your face. Would it be anger? Disgust? Disappointment even? Surely if you hated it that much, you’d have plainly kicked her right off the bed by now, right? Storm out in a fit of shock and never so much as glance her way again.

The sight to greet her instead wasn’t an unwelcome one though — no, far from it actually, her gaze deliberately falling upon the blazing flush of your face down to the evident bulge straining painfully between your legs, palm nervously placed over it in a half-assed attempt to keep your dignity at bay — shit. It’s one thing to be kissed by your younger sister but to get fucking hard from it is like shameful admission on its own, a visceral reaction that could not be denied no matter what reasonable excuses may tumble from your lips. “..It’s fine. I don’t mind, actually.” You’re really no better than Whitney in that aspect, but when an opportunity presents itself, it’s only fair to mindlessly grasp for it, is it not? More worrying is the debauched idea that forms in your mind in regard to the enamoured expression worn by her wobbly lips and wide-eyed look, not-so-subtly rubbing her plush thighs together in a hint of arousal. Oh, so that’s how it is. If the sloppy kiss itself didn’t confirm it then this surely did, a surge of confidence rushing momentarily through your body at your next actions. “Like I said, it’s fine, Ky.” That fucking nickname again. Unable to stop yourself from dragging your cute little sister closer towards you till she consequently found herself comfortably placed onto your lap, blinking stupidly at the bold move done by her normally gloomy, big brother. Silly girl.

“Siblings do it all the time, it’s not weird. It’s natural.” Lying through your goddamn teeth with a certain ease that even surprises you internally, but oh, is it so worth it as her viridescent eyes glimmer brightly to the whispered reassurance in your casual tone, acceptance easily slipping through. “But Whitney and I don’t—“ She starts, only for you to immediately latch onto her endless questioning with the seed having already been planted, too late to fucking back out now. “You and I are different. I’m nice to you and you’re nice to me, so it’s normal if you want to. We can do that cuz’ everyone else does it, alright? You don’t have to be shy with me about it, Ky.” Every carefully measured word to make it seem as though this was the norm, knowing fully you’d be seen as freaks and degenerates by your peers attending the nearby school. Not that they didn’t already think so with Kylar, the rumors having grown out to such an unhealthy proportion that it pestered the poor girl at every corner in the narrow hallways. Poor thing.

So isn’t it your job as her big brother to make it all go away? Make her feel better.

“Shh, just let me..” Soothing circles rhythmically rubbed in a recognizable pattern along the edges of her skirt, repeated affirmations of want so as to ease her chattering mind over the possible morality of this newfound situation. Could’ve said no if she didn’t secretly desire this, though her actions seem to say so otherwise with how she earnestly complies, willingly tucking her arms to her sides to let your hands do the rest. Good girl. So docile, like a porcelain doll, sharpening breaths noticeably deepening from the careful tugs of her short skirt, revealing the confirmation of her depraved wants as the wet patch of slick soaking through her plain, white panties is bared. Your adorable little sister isn’t so innocent as you thought, is she? Contrary to her modest choice of underwear. Getting fucking wet solely from being leered at so openly by her step brother, even going so far as to spread her soft legs for better viewing.

“See? Isn’t it frustrating to be left all worked up like this?” Agreeing nods promptly interrupted by the press of your thumb against her clothed slit, such a sweet, hitched gasp elicited from the lazy circles traced onto her swollen, twitching clit. A free view of your younger sister’s scrunched up expression morphing to one of pure, unadulterated pleasure, scarred fingertips tightly clutching at the fabric of your shirt, but that’s the least of your concerns at the moment, really. “This good?” There’s no real need to ask when you can naturally rely on the shivering of her dainty figure, breathy moans of y-yes and feels good! along with the guiding of her needy fingers, flush against her slicked heat. A flick of your thumb is all it takes to have her turn into a babbling mess, bucking her hips up to meet your cupped palm, incidentally grinding onto your aching hard-on. “S-Shit, okay. Look at you, hah — so fucking wet already.” Barely able to discern the own pitch of your voice, but who the fuck is supposed to properly maintain their composure when your little sister is so prettily begging for your cock?

Effortlessly peeling away at the sticky fabric of her cotton panties, slipping it down the length of her legs to thoughtlessly throw away onto the wooden floor beneath. No time to fucking think, not with how cute her cunt looks, pink and dripping with slick coating the smooth surface of her inner thighs. Ah, and she’s already impatiently fumbling with your belt too, smiling so happily once it loosens to eventually tug your own underwear down too, leaking cock eagerly springing free from its restraints. “Want it that bad, lil sis?” Fuck, does it feel wrong to even be calling her so in your current predicament, yet so damn right too. The pleading nods, urgently clinging to your frame to press against as she grinds her sopping cunt along your flushed tip, whining whenever it knocks just right up against her puffy clit, squelching from the melding fluids. “W-Want it, want it inside, please.”

“B-Big brother—“

As much as you like the high-pitched mumblings of your dearest Kylar, there’s really only so much edging you can take before promptly snapping your hips up in tandem with her own, relishing in the slippery warmth that lovingly welcomes you, stretched folds accommodating to the sheer girth of your length. “Oh, fuck — Fuck, just relax for me. You feel so.. hah, so good.” Collectively sighing in relief at the intrusion of your pulsing cock squeezed so nicely by her constricting walls, having to steel yourself from the tight suck of her cunt snugly wrapped around your tip. “You’re doing so good for me, taking me so well.” Softly hushing her breathy whines intertwined with a mix of pain and pleasure, fingertips digging harshly in the tender flesh of her hips to guide her quivering frame up and down the length of your cock. Isn’t this what she wanted after all? Such a quick learner too, steadily bouncing to match the pace you had set, your wandering hands slipping past the hem of her loose shirt to greedily palm at her perky breasts which prompts another moan to exit her parted lips. Uncaring for the increasingly noticeable squeaking of the worn mattress when your little sis is so cutely riding you, doing her very best to satisfy your immoral urges and have you mark her slicked insides with your seed.

“What a good sister.. So good, aren’t you?” Cute, pink tongue poking out, begging for another messy kiss pressed onto her swollen lips which you dutifully oblige with another muffled groan. Sloppily planting your own against hers, treasuring every shuddered gasp to swallow down and stifling her open mewls. It’s borderline disgusting how desperate you are, savouring every thick inch engulfed by the sloppy suck of her baby sister pussy, reappearing briefly only to bury yourself balls deep once more into her defiled cunt. Isn’t really your fault with how fucking tight she is, is it? Barely grasping the reality of the situation which is the very high possibility of being heard from outside her room right this moment, but fuck — you can’t slow down, not right now, not when you’re already on the verge of spilling your cum deep inside. Damn Whitney, the bastard. Damn to hell your parents, your indecisive mother and her new husband, this is heaven itself right here. “I’m close—“ You huff out in a sort of warning, though it’s more of an invitation to Kylar, an opportunity for you to shoot your thick seed in her wanting hole, practically locking her legs tight around your waist.

Anything for you after all, huh? Her beloved. Her darling. You just didn’t know it yet! And to say it came true on its own, openly enjoying the sensation of your fat cock instinctively fucking into her tight, little sister hole. So close.

“Cum inside me, please. Let’s finish together, big brother. I-I’m close too—“

And that’s all you really need, precise thrusts upwards hastily turning into erratic humps to lazily grind against her ass, wanting nothing more but to see the dumb, drooling, fucked out expression painted across her adorable face, the convulsing of her cunt stuffed full of your length when she does have her first ever orgasm. A few clumsy circles drawn over her used clit is all it takes to have her cumming, slick trickling out of her fluttering cunt to drip over the base of your cock and stain the pristine sheets beneath. “Ah— God, you’re so fucking tight.” Fuck, fuck, fuck — Shoving the hilt of your cock as deep as possible into your little sister’s stretched out hole to rightfully mark her pink insides with your seed, spurting out thick, white strings of cum while you fuck yourself deeper into her womb and downright have her experience her first ever accidental cream pie too. It’s only then when she pitifully whines for you to stop that you do eventually pause, hips drawing back to stare in awe at the dribbling globs of cum spilling out of her sore cunt. “S-Sorry.” You mutter out apologetically with a sigh, the tension easing out of your muscles once she giggles softly in response to your strained apology. “It’s okay. I-I liked it a lot too.”

“Did you?”

“Mhm, I did.” Kylar sleepily mumbles back with drowsy eyelids, the exhaustion washing both over you all at once from, well.. all the movement involved. Let’s leave it at that, actually. Plus you deserve the rest, don’t you? Wouldn’t be fair to leave your adorable sister all alone in her twin bed without her older brother’s body to warm it with too, yeah? It’s fine to lay yourself down next to her curled figure snuggling closely against yours, drape an arm over her waist to remind her of your presence close by, make her feel secure and at ease. A silent, ushered promise to clean her up later once you two awaken, affectionately pressing a single kiss atop her head one last time before sleep takes her first. It’s your role to as the big brother, after all, isn’t it?

“..Good.”

#fuck #..fucking never. ever. writing this much within the span of a few days. ever. #FUCK SCENES WERE NASTY!!!! FUUUCKKK!! #I’m not beating the siscon allegations with this one #off to blow my brains out now #dol #degrees of lewdity #ITS ALL IN THE FAMILY. #whitney the bully #kylar the loner #bailey the caretaker #robin the orphan #big brother whitney #little sister kylar #daddy bailey #bottom male reader #top male reader #x male reader #character x male reader #asher writes

[joonsmagicshop]

Stress Relief Series- MYG

 Summary: A couple weeks ago Taehyung asked a favor. For you to have sex with his bandmates to relieve some tension and stress. How can you say no to that.

Paring: Yoongi/Reader (Namjoon, Jin and Taehyung are mentioned)

Rating: M/18+

Word Count: 5k

Tags: smut, fingering, eating pussy, soft Yoongi, dom Yoongi, hand jobs, cum eating, dirty talk.

Authors Note: My sweet Yoongi.

In case you missed it

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Yoongi knew he should have changed the code on his door ages ago.

Maybe he would actually get work done if he did.

His fingers danced across the keyboard as he pulled his headphones tighter against his ears to block out the sound of his bandmates talking.

His shoulders were starting to hurt from being so slouched over a computer desk his eyes were dry and his patience was thin

So very thin.

Yoongi knew what his strengths were, making music was one of them but lately he felt as if he had just hit a wall and could not break through it. He was stuck, musically constipated as Hobi said, which caused everyone to break out into giggles and Yoongi to shoot Hobi a very lewd gesture causing everyone to burst into laughs again

Yoongi closed his eyes for a moment and tried his best to get in a happy calm mindset but he could still hear Taehyung and Namjoon teasing each other in the background and Jin munching away on something.

Yoongi had enough and he ripped his headphones and turned the chair around.

“Alright everyone out! You all are annoying and I can’t concentrate. I’m changing the passcode tomorrow so out. Now.” He demands as Namjoon and Tae stare at him in shock and Jin just kept eating.

“We aren’t even doing anything! You had your headphones in the whole time!” Tae argues as he shoots Yoongi his signature pout which usually works, but not today.

“I could still hear you and Namjoon chatting. Out! Seriously I can’t concentrate. And Jin stop eating and getting crumbs everywhere. Honestly” Yoongi grumbles as he crosses his arms and stares them all down.

“Yoongi you spend all your time here we feel like we haven’t seen you except at dance practice. We wanted to hang out with you.” Namjoon says standing up and coming to sit in the chair next to Yoongi, concern written all over his face.

Yoongi let out a sigh, he didn’t mean to make Namjoon concerned, he had enough to worry about as their leader.

“Yeah, Yoongi I just wanted to hang out with my favorite Hyung.” Tae pouts as Yoongi shoots him a small smile.

“Rude!” Jin calls out kicking Taehyung’s shin and Namjoon puts a hand over his heart fake offended.

“Laying it on thick to stay. Nice try but no. Out all of you.” Yoongi says as Taehyung and Jin grumble but gather their things.

“I’ll stay and help you with the song,” Namjoon responds as he grabs the spare headphones out of the desk drawer and scoots closer.

“Thank you Namjoon. Finally some help.” Yoongi complains as the other two roll their eyes.

“Wow, Yoongi you seem stressed…” Taehyung starts with a smirk and Yoongi knows where he is going with this.

He hasn’t forgotten the proposition Taehyung made to them a month and a half prior. He had just been so busy he hadn’t thought about it.

Well okay, he has thought about it but it’s usually after a long studio session or dance session very late at night when it would be rude to call upon a stranger, so Yoongi would let his hand wrap around his cock and imagine it was someone else. Those were the nights he slept the best.

“Yeah, Yoongi you might want to do something about that. If only there was someone to help.” Jin teased as they both refused to leave standing by the door with matching smirks.

“Did I not tell you to get out?” Yoongi shoots back as he stares them down giving them death glares.

“Okay, guys enough. We are all stressed out let’s not make it worse.” Namjoon says diplomatically as Yoongi feels his shoulders slump again.

“You don’t have to be you know. I gave you a way out…an option.” Taehyung reminds them with a wave of his cell phone which has Jin cracking up beside him.

“Enough. Out.” Yoongi demands as he points to the door.

Taehyung giggles and opens the door to leave but Jin doesn’t leave just yet, his hand hovering on the door as he adjusts his bag on his shoulder.

“Ah, Namjoon I forgot to thank you for going to that exhibit and ditching me for dinner. I had a fantastic night. You really missed out".” He says teasingly with a wink as Namjoon’s eyes go wide.

Taeyhung is hunched over in the hallway cackling like a maniac and Yoongi is very close to standing up and slamming the door in their faces.

“Jin…seriously,” Namjoon whines with disapproval in his voice.

When Taehyung first brought the idea forward it was obvious that Namjoon disapproved. He reminded them they were idols and they needed to be careful and this was a huge risk. Taehyung reminded them he had been with Y/N for months and nothing had happened and his career was still intact, leaving it open for each of them to decide individually.

It seems not everyone shared Namjoon’s worry.

“And just so you know, my face is still handsome when I’m fucking someone against a mirror.” Jin finishes with a satisfied smirk as Yoongi finally has enough and stands up to slam the door in his so-called handsome face.

Taehyung and Jin run down the hallway cacking like hyenas before Yoongi can catch them and when he does slam the door it’s not as satisfying.

He runs a hand down his tired face and marches back to his computer where Namjoon is still seated in shock.

“You okay?” Yoongi asks as he fiddles around to pull up the song he had been stuck on for the past couple of days, sincerely hoping Namjoon could help him or he might scrap the whole thing out of frustration.

“Yeah, I just… they went against my warning? The maknaes I understand... they are horny little monsters but Jin? He is the oldest and supposed to be responsible? What if something happens?” Namjoon frets.

“I’m sure it will be okay. Taehyung said he has been with Y/N for a while and nothing has happened. I mean Jin was the one to point her out to him in the first place…responsible my ass. Either way, it already has happened and time machines don’t exist. We have enough to worry about with this tour.” Yoongi points out as Namjoon fiddles in his seat.

“I’m calling a meeting,” Namjoon says pulling out his phone.

Yoongi stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Namjoon no. What’s a meeting going to do anyway? You tell them not to they are going to want to do it more. We should just leave it.” Yoongi says as Namjoon grumbles and puts his phone in his pocket.

“Let’s just focus on the song okay? Please? Or do I have to kick you out too?” Yoongi half jokes as he grabs his discarded headphones.

“Sorry, Hyung just…stressed out,” Namjoon admits as Yoongi nods and puts the headphones over his messy hair as they both get to work.

The thing about someone warning you not to do something…

It really does make you want to do it more.

This was one of those times Yoongi hated being right.

He and Namjoon worked on the song for a total of two hours and Namjoon did help him get over his creative block.

It was a good studio session and Yoongi was grateful for his friend.

However, Namjoon had plans with some friends at his house, and even though he offered an invite to Yoongi multiple times Yoongi declined.

He wanted to stay and work on the music some more despite Namjoon telling him he needed rest and to eat something.

“I’m going to text you every hour Yoongi and if you are not out of this studio by eleven I’m dragging you out,” Namjoon warns as he throws his helmet over his head and waves as he leaves.

The problem is that Yoongi had all these ideas when Namjoon was around. He felt the creative juices flowing.

Now that Namjoon is gone and he is alone everything feels wrong.

His sweater is too hot, his hair tickles his face, his eyes burn from staring at a screen for too long, his shoulders hurt, he feels itchy and irritable and he is hard, so painfully hard in his track pants it’s annoying him further.

“Namjoon no. What’s a meeting going to do anyway? You tell them not to they are going to want to do it more.”

Yoongi hates being right.

But since Jin mentioned it Yoongi has not been able to stop thinking about it. It had been ages since he had something to satisfy him other than his right hand and the thought was tempting. How amazing it would feel to slide into a tight wet pussy, how good it would feel to have someone moaning his name, taking his cock, taking care of him.

He can hear Namjoon’s panic in the back of his mind. What if something does go wrong?

However, his skin is prickling with heat and his stomach is swooping with need and just at the thought of fucking someone his cock is twitching and leaking in his track pants making his skin itch some more.

Maybe Taehyung was onto something after all.

Fuck it.

Yoongi grabs his phone from his desk with one hand and palms the head of his cock with the other. He wants to relieve at least some tension so he doesn’t blow his load the second he gets to you.

With his free hand, he types out a message.

And lucky for him it doesn’t take long for you to respond.

By the time you hear the knocking on the door, you have just gotten the food all laid on the table.

You smirk to yourself as you smooth down your shirt and open the door to see Min Yoongi standing there.

He shoots you a shy timid smile as you lead him in and right to the kitchen.

His eyes widen and you try not to laugh.

“What’s all this?” He asks blinking slowly as he takes in the dimmed lights and the takeout containers.

“Y/N you didn’t have to do this.” He says softly as you pour him a glass of water and gesture for him to sit down at the table.

“I didn’t do this. Taehyung did. Well I mean… he texted me and gave me the heads up you might reach out. When I told him you did he ordered all this food for us and said you were stuck in the studio today and probably didn’t eat. He got all your favorites… or at least that’s what he told me” You admit as you sit across from Yoongi and his eyes soften.

“He was being a menace today and I had to kick him and Jin out of my studio he really knows how to suck up,” Yoongi explains as you start to pile his plate high and he runs a hand through his hair.

“Yup, that sounds like Taehyung.” You tease as you give him his plate and work on making your own.

You pile on a little bit of everything and push your chair closer to Yoongi as you both eat.

Conversation flows freely and you find Yoongi very easy to talk to. He tells you a little bit about his day and asks you about yours.

The whole thing is very domestic for two people who just met twenty minutes ago.

Once dinner is finished you pack everything up and leave it in the fridge reminding yourself to make Yoongi take it home with him.

You turn around to see Yoongi who is sitting in the chair, arms crossed over his stomach and trying his best to keep his eyes open.

He just looks so exhausted.

“Come on Yoongi time for sleep.” You coo as his eyes slowly flutter open and a pink blush paints his cheeks.

“But- I didn’t come here just to eat and sleep, I wanna fuck you.” He says innocently as you bite back a smile and help him out of his chair.

He loops an arm around you and buries his face into your neck as you guide him to your bedroom and help him flop down on the bed.

“How about we sleep first, baby? You look two seconds away from passing out.” You say to him.

“I’m fine I promise.” He says pouting out his lower lip looking as cute as ever.

“Yoongi how about we take a little nap at least? You can’t keep your eyes open.” You push, and much to your surprise he doesn’t argue and instead climbs up the bed.

You giggle when he throws back the smallest corner of the comforter to slip under and once he gets himself situated he makes grabby hands towards you.

You throw back the covers and climb under so you are the little spoon and immediately Yoongi wraps his arms around you and pulls you flush to his body so your back is pushed up against his chest and his nose is pressed into your hair.

“Thank you Y/N. m’ sorry this probably isn’t what you expected. And I don’t usually cuddle with people I don’t know…m’ just so tired.” Yoongi admits in a small voice as you push yourself closer to him and rub your hands up and down his arms.

“Yoongi let me take care of you, you are clearly exhausted from working so hard Let’s both get some rest okay?” You say softly as you bring his hand up to kiss the back of it causing him to push himself closer to you.

You were unsure how long you had slept for, all you knew was Yoongi’s arms were wrapped tightly around you and his cock was hard and pressing into your backside.

You craned your neck to look out your window seeing the sky dark and littered with stars. You both must have slept for at least a couple of hours.

You put your head back on the pillow and were about to doze off again when Yoongi let out a breathy whimper against your back and ground his cock harder into your butt. His hands tightened around you and you could hear the soft pants and whines that were spilling from his mouth as you smiled.

His moans were getting more high-pitched as he ground harder into you and your hand came around to cup at his bulge but you stopped yourself.

You never went over rules or anything with Yoongi because after you ate you both fell into a food coma-type sleep.

You weren’t sure if it was okay to touch him and you didn’t want to do it without his permission.

The only thing you could do was wake him up and just as you were about to do so you felt something else against your backside.

A pulsing vibration from a phone which meant someone was calling him.

You shook his arm to wake him and looked over your shoulder to see his eyes blearily opening as his phone continued to vibrate against your hip.

“Mm, what time is it?” He asked voice husky with sleep which made your stomach swoop, his sleepy voice was so sexy.

“Yoongi your-” You said as he suddenly realized and his eyes nearly popped open as he shoved his hard cock away from your backside and started apologizing profusely.

“No not that! I think someone is calling you. Your phone!” You say as he sits up still slightly disoriented as the vibrating stops.

But just as it stops it starts again and Yoongi leans back to fish his phone from his pocket frowning when he sees the screen.

“Shit, it’s Namjoon.” He says shooting you a look.

“I can leave if you need some privacy.” You say already turning to get out of bed, but Yoongi stops you with a strong hand on your thigh as he stares you down.

“Stay. This will be quick.” He says taking the call and holding the phone up to his ear as you slip back under the blankets.

“Hello?” Yoongi says as you fiddle with the blanket and try to make yourself look busy. Even though Yoongi wanted you to stay you still felt like you were intruding on something you shouldn’t have

You can faintly hear Namjoons worried voice over the phone. How he tried to text Yoongi multiple times and got no response.

You are about to stand up and leave despite Yoongi’s wishes when his long fingers circle your wrist and you gasp and stare at him in shock when he brings it to his hard cock and raises an eyebrow at you.

“Are you sure?” You whisper not wanting to be picked up by Namjoon on the other line as he nods and you slowly start to apply pressure to his hard cock through the thin material of his track pants.

“Mhmm. I know Joon. Mhmm.” Yoongi drawls as Namjoon continues to talk and you continue to stroke his cock through his pants watching as his hips rut up into your hand and how his eyes are fluttering with every pass of your palm.

Without hesitation, you dip your fingers into his waistband and boxers and circle the base of his cock, a choked groan leaving his lips as you hear Namjoon stop his talking, and you eye Yoongi.

“Yeah I’m okay Namjoon, sorry I just woke up from a nap.” Yoongi admits as he mouths the word “move” to you.

You dance your fingers along his painfully hard shaft and when you reach the head of his cock you can feel him dripping all over your fingers.

You gather as much of it as you can before taking your hand out of his pants and holding your fingers up to his face so he can see for himself.

His eyes widen when you take your fingers and pop them in your mouth, licking and sucking at the juices.

“Namjoon listen I have to-go I gotta go,” Yoongi says as you can hear the muffled noises of Namjoon protesting on the other line.

“Yoongi where did you nap?” You can hear Namjoon ask as you place your hands on his shoulders and lean in, kissing at the exposed skin of his neck as he throws his head back and you hear a small thump from when it hits the headboard.

“Nam-J-oon I have to go-seriously,” Yoongi says voice cracking as you suck on his neck letting your tongue flick over his warm flesh.

“Min Yoongi you better not be doing what I think you're doing!” You hear Namjoon warn.

You lick a bold stripe up his neck from collarbone to earlobe as Yoongi hangs up on his friend and throws his phone across the room.

His hands are tight on your hips as you position yourself so you are straddling him, pushing your wet core into his throbbing cock as he grabs you and pulls you in for a bruising kiss.

His lips are soft as they push into yours. His hands stay tight on your hips and your heart is racing in your chest when he wastes no time slipping his tongue into your mouth.

The kiss is heated and laced with heat and passion that it makes your head spin. He shifts his hips to push his hard cock into you and you whine against him as your core throbs with need.

“Need you. Fuck need you so bad. I’ve been hard all day thinking about this.” He mutters against your lips as his hands tug at the hem of your shirt pulling it over your head.

You can faintly hear his phone vibrating on the floor and you pull back to stare at him.

“Namjoon again?” You ask as Yoongi doesn’t seem too bothered, he is preoccupied with exploring your body with his tongue and taking off your bra.

“Yoongi your phone.” You cry out when he finally gets the bra off and his lips attach to your nipple sucking harshly causing moans to spill from your mouth and your eyes to close as your hands tangle in his hair.

“Don’t give a shit about Namjoon right now. Need you so fucking bad. Let him break down the door it’s not gonna stop me from fucking you.” Yoongi growls as he thrusts his cock up against you again and you whine.

You rake your hands through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes as he stares up at you, lips still wrapped around your nipple and a grin on his face.

“Woke up so fucking hard, wish you didn’t wear pants so I could have just slipped it right in.” He admits as you groan and grind your wet pussy down on his lap.

“Gonna soak my pants, baby. Gotta take these off.” He says as he helps you off of him and crawls down the bed so he is between your legs.

Your eyes widen in shock when he pulls your pants down harshly and throws them on the floor, muffling the sound of his still-vibrating phone even more.

“You sure you don’t want to answer your phone?” You ask as Yoongi kisses up and down your legs, stealing your breath from your lungs.

“And miss the chance of eating you out to get yelled at by Namjoon. Not a fucking chance.” He growls as he slowly makes his way to your core.

He takes his sweet time kissing up your thighs as you moan and thrash on the bed. Your body is on fire with need and you feel your core throb with every swipe of his tongue on your legs and thighs.

“Yoongi… please.” You cry out as you prop yourself up on pillows to get a better view of him between your legs.

“Please what? Use your words” Yoongi demands looking smug between your legs as his fingers run along your upper thighs.

“Touch me.” You whisper holding your breath in anticipation.

“I am touching you love.” He teases.

“Min Yoongi I swear to god. Please.” You cry out as he finally dips his finger into your folds and collects your wetness bringing it up to your clit and making your head hit the pillow and your eyes roll back.

“Fuck baby your soaking my fingers. Needy little thing aren’t you? Did the other boys touch you or was it all just talk?” He hums as he rubs small slow circles on your clit causing you to arch your back.

“Needy? You were the one grinding your cock into me earlier.” You tease as he removes his fingers and gives you a hard stare.

“I can stop you know.” He teases back with a mischievous smile as you whine and push your hips up, desperate to get him back to where you need him most.

“That’s what I thought.” He muttered as he lay himself down on the bed and your eyes widened as he brought his face closer to your dipping center.

“Fuck Yoongi.” You moan as he flattens his tongue against your slit and licks it all up.

You cry out and fist the sheets desperate to hold onto something and to ground yourself as Yoongi flicks his tongue over your clit causing you to cry out.

Yoongi works you with your tongue until you are a screaming sobbing mess under him. You feel your orgasm fast approaching and he must feel it too as he shoves two fingers deep inside of you and begin to scissor them, stretching you out as he licks and sucks at your clit.

Right when he curls his fingers deep inside you your body lets go and you arch up from the bed, his name falling like a prayer from your lips as your pussy clamps around his digits and you cum all over them and all over him as his tongue is still buried between your legs and his hair is tickling your thighs.

You come down and slump on the bed breathing heavily as you desperately try to catch your breath. You watch as Yoongi gently closes your legs and crawls up the bed towards you, his eyes sparkling as he shoves his pants and boxers down to free his hard, leaking cock. He throws them somewhere in the room as you giggle.

“So much better holy shit almost came in my pants tasting you.” He admits as his hand circles his cock and he strokes it slowly, trying to ease some of the built-up tension as you watch.

Yoongi’s skilled hand strokes and tugs at his cock, he takes his time with it letting out soft whines and moans with every pass of his fingers against the aching shaft.

“Fuck Yoongi, so hot.” You whimper as you close your thighs tightly trying to ease some of the ache between them.

Yoongi’s eyes travel down your body as he smirks when he sees your thighs clenching.

“One orgasm isn’t enough?” He asks releasing his cock and letting it smack against his stomach.

He crawls on top of you and uses his hands to spread your legs.

Your breath hitches when he leans down to press a soft slow kiss to your mouth and you reach up to tangle your hands into his sweaty hair.

“Hold them open for me. Let me grab a condom.” He whispers as he shimmies down the bed to grab his pants and digs through the pile of clothes to find his discarded phone.

His mouth draws up into a smirk when he checks the screen.

“Five missed calls from Namjoon. World record I think.” He teases as he grabs a condom from his wallet and throws his phone back down on the pile.

He takes his time rolling the condom on his hard length and you roll over to flick on the bedroom lamp casting the room in a warm glow.

"Is everything okay with Namjoon?” You ask as Yoongi crawls on the bed and positions his cock at your entrance.

“Yeah, he’s just… You know he’s our leader and he is the responsible one out of us. He feels like what we are doing isn’t the most responsible thing and is just worried.” Yoongi admits as he pushes his hair back from his face and stares you down.

“Does he know I signed a NDA contract? I legally can’t say anything…at all… ever?” You ask as Yoongi slides his cock head against your entrance coating it in your juices.

“Yeah, Taehyung told us that part it’s just… Namjoon you know. He worries a lot.” Yoongi admits with a fond look on his face.

“Sounds like he’s stressed out.” You tease as Yoongi lets out a laugh and slowly pushes his cock head inside.

The stretch is delicious and you open your legs wider to welcome him. He takes his time inching inside of you until he is fully sheathed and he pushes his forehead against yours and you both breathe heavily.

“Jin and Taehyung joked about that this morning. Couldn’t stop thinking about it. That’s why I’m here. And fuck was it a great decision. You’re so tight for me darling.” He mumbles as he presses soft kisses against your temple.

“Did you get hard in the studio? Thinking about me? Thinking about this?” You purr as Yoongi closes his eyes and shifts his hips rocking into you gently.

“You have no idea. Was fine when I was working on the song, the second Namjoon left. Fuck. Couldn’t stop thinking about it. Felt like I was in heat. Needed this soaked pussy so bad.” Yoongi growls as you feel his cock twitch inside of you and you moan.

“Please tell me I can move. Please.” Yoongi begs and when you nod he grins wickedly down at you.

Yoongi pulls his cock most of the way out and grabs your legs. Before you can process it he has your legs thrown over his shoulder and starts to pound into you harshly.

You grip the blankets for support as Yoongi’s hard cock drags against your walls. He is fucking you with so much enthusiasm you feel like you might go right through the headboard.

Yoongi is moaning above you and is hitting that spot deep inside of you that has you crying out his name and gripping the sheets harder.

“Yoongi fuck, please. F-fuck feels so good.” You cry out as he reaches down to play with your clit, his skilled fingers rubbing it in a way that has your orgasm fast approaching.

“Baby girl you feel so good around me, pussy so good I want to scream.” He growls as he shifts his hips and slams into you harder causing your pussy to clench around him.

“Gonna cum princess, gonna cream my cock and make a mess for me,” Yoongi says as you nod frantically, your whole body tensing as you feel your high fast approaching.

“Yoongi right there fuck! Please!” You beg, not even sure what you are begging for.

Your orgasm rips through your body as you arch up from the bed and cry out his name. Your pussy clamps tightly against his cock as Yoongi bends forward to kiss you and you feel his cock twitch and empty into the condom, he can hardly thrust into you as you continue to ride out your high.

“so so good baby. You did so good.” he praises as his lips find yours and he gives you soft slow kisses, his hair falls over his face to tickle your cheeks and you grab at his shoulders desperate to feel more of him

Once you both come down Yoongi pulls out and throws the condom away. He positions himself down on the bed beside you. His hands come to scrape his hair away from his face as he stares at you with a dopey grin.

You lean in and press a small kiss to his cheek as you get up to get a towel and use the washroom.

Once you get yourself cleaned up you head back to the bedroom and let out a soft giggle. Yoongi is spread out on the bed and fast asleep. One hand is resting on his stomach and his hair is a mess and his lips are parted as he softly snores.

You inch over to the bed and use your warm washcloth to wipe around his soft cock, careful not to wake him.

Once finished you throw the covers over his body and grab a big tee shirt to sleep in as you curl up next to him.

His arms wrap around you and he buries his face in your hair. You hear a content sigh leave his lips.

Right as you are about to doze off you hear a phone vibrating again and you bite back a laugh as you snuggle into the covers and fall asleep.

TAGLIST

@take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d

@m00njinnie

@minghaosimp

@madebyjungkookie

@iammeandmeisiam

@allie-is-a-panda

#Min yoongi #Yoongi #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi/reader smut #yoongixreader smut

[vibraniumavenger]

Collision

TW/CW: Car accident, injuries.

Pairing: Evan Buckley x Diaz!Reader

You smiled to yourself as you walked beside Christopher, your nephew. You had watched him in the morning while your brother was working, and Carla was attending an appointment. You didn’t mind though, you absolutely adored him, and he enjoyed spending time with you. 

You had an hour to kill before dropping him off to Carla, and heading off to work yourself, so you decided to swing by the station to have lunch with the team. It was quiet when you arrived, indicating the team were on a call. You took it upon yourself to make lunch for everybody, knowing it would be a relief to them when they got back. Chris was sat at the table on his tablet, in a world of his own, allowing you to focus on the food. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as the sound of the shutters opening filled the station followed by heavy boots thudding against the floor as each firefighter jumped out of the truck. The footsteps got closer, the faint smell of smoke mixed with a familiar aftershave filled your nostrils and you instinctively lean back into the body that is now behind you as arms snake around your waist. “Isn’t this a nice surprise?” 

You turn towards the voice, and smile, “Apparently, I can’t seem to stay away.” You lean up to kiss Buck, causing Chris to pull a disgusted face. This seemed to amuse Buck, and he kissed you again. Eddie appeared in the kitchen, and made his way over to his son, visibly happy to see him. “Come on guys, get a room.” You rolled your eyes playfully at your brothers comment, and pulled away from Buck. 

You dished up the food for the team and took a seat, eager to hear about the call they had just been on. You listened intently as you ate, your complete focus on Buck as he spoke passionately about the call. Your heart warmed as you watched his face light up, he loved how much you genuinely enjoyed hearing about the calls, and how his day had gone. Chimney was the next to speak up, “It was a good call, except the part where Buck was playing hero and nearly got himself killed.” Bucks eyes widened and he turned to look at Chimney, giving him a look that immediately stopped him talking. Chimney, trying to help, began speaking again, “Don’t worry, it’s nothing out of the ordinary. It wasn’t any more dangerous than a simple call, the risk is always there. Besides, it was probably one of the safer times Buck tried to save the day, you should’ve seen him on the call last week.” 

“Chim, stop talking.” Buck, who was now visibly on the spot, turned to face you. He studied your face, working out how to approach this. He opened his mouth to reassure you, but you beat him to it, “I thought we spoke about this…” Buck knew you understood that no day was guaranteed, and that saving people on calls was something he would always try to do, even if it put him at risk. He also knew that he had a habit of jumping the gun and putting himself in dangerous situations without thinking it through. “I’m sorry…��� 

You checked your watch, and stood up. “I just wish you’d be more careful, Buck.” Chris stood up and hugged Eddie goodbye, and you did the same. “Later bro.” You said goodbye to the team and walked back to the car with Chris by your side. The breeze hit you, and you took a deep breath. Maybe you were overreacting, maybe not but you just needed a moment. You helped Chris into the car and got in yourself, turning on the radio. The short ride to Carlas mostly consisted of Chris laughing as you sang along to the music, and the occasional conversation when Chris wasn’t overly engrossed in his phone. Carla was there to greet you when you pulled up on her drive, Chris was extremely excited and practically jumped out of the car to hug her. Carla gave you a hug, “Y/N, it’s so good to see you!” You smiled and hugged back, “It’s been a while, huh? Life has been hectic.” Carla laughs at this, “You’re telling me, your brother told me all about you and Buck. Moving in together? That’s a big step!” 

“We were practically living together anyway, and if I’m being honest, Eddie is probably just relieved to have his couch back. I was starting to get on his nerves.” You explained to Carla, and she chuckled. “Well, I wish you all the best. I’m gonna get Chris inside, and I’ll let you run off to work. It was lovely seeing you.” You hug Chris goodbye and bid farewell to Carla before getting into your car and beginning your journey to your place of work. In front of you, the amber light turned to red and you stopped. You could see that traffic was beginning to build up on the other side of the junction, and you didn’t want to be late. You sighed, and made the decision to take an alternate route, so when the light turned green, you indicated and pulled out to begin taking your turning. You let out a sudden gasp before you could even properly register the car coming towards you. All you could do was attempt to brace for the impact, and so you did. 

A loud crunching sound surrounded you, followed by the feeling of being thrown as your car was barrelled into. You closed your eyes tightly, scared of what was next. You didn’t have the courage to open them again until the car steadied. The first thing you could see was the airbag in front of you, despite not feeling it deploy moments before. You could smell the burning of the tyres, outside of the car, you could hear the panicked voices of bystanders, but all you could focus on was the blood that was now spread across your arms, unsure of where it was actually coming from. You weren’t in pain, at least you couldn’t feel any in that moment. Is that what shock feels like? You couldn’t think, but your eyes got heavy and you fought your hardest not to succumb to the darkness. 

Back at the station, the call was only just coming in. The alarm blared throughout the station, alerting the team to the call. They were quick to jump into action, grabbing their gear and piling themselves into their assigned trucks. Eddie and Buck sat beside each other, speaking casually between themselves about what had happened earlier. “Just give her some time, she’ll come around. For her, two of the people she loves most are at risk everyday, you’ve gotta imagine it can’t be easy. It’s a risky job as it is, and when you put yourself into riskier situations without needing to, it decreases the chance of making it home at the end. She’s scared. Just talk to her.” Eddie attempted to reassure Buck, who was feeling terrible. He couldn’t shake the image of your face from his mind, the face that showed disappointment in his actions. Before Buck could respond, the truck halted and the team jumped out, ready to give help where needed. Buck stopped in his tracks as an all too familiar car was crushed before him. He tried not to panic, hoping that his suspicions were wrong. His eyes flicked to the number plate and his heart stopped. His feet were moving before his mind could catch up. He shouted your name, drawing Eddies attention. It took Eddie a few seconds to process what was happening. You had not long left the station, it couldn’t possibly be you. Right?

Buck arrived to your car first, nausea washed over him as he caught sight of your injured body. “Y/N? Hey, it’s me. I’m here.” You weren’t completely aware of what was happening, your eyes opened with a struggle. Your movements were weak as you turned your head to look at him. “Buck?” You spoke quietly, not completely aware of the situation at hand. “Don’t move, try and keep still.” He tried to remain as calm as he could, he didn’t want to scare you any more, he was terrified himself. Eddie ran right over to the car, his heart racing as he feared what he would find. His first instinct was to check the back seat, relief finally washing over him as he saw no sign of Christopher. Still, he needed to make sure, “Y/N, was Chris in the car?” 

You shook your head, “Carlas.” Eddie felt a weight off his shoulders, knowing his son was safe. The weight soon came back when he saw the condition you were in. Your eyes rolled back, and you fell into unconsciousness. Bobby was running the scene, assigning Hen and Chim to medically assist you, and he grabbed the gear to support Buck and Eddie in freeing you from the car. Buck didn’t want to let go of your hand, but he knew he had to in order to get you out sooner. The team worked tirelessly, ensuring to be as careful as possible. Bobby handed the halligan to Buck, “Buck, you focus on getting the doors open. Diaz, grab the saw and be on standby.” 

Buck groaned as he tried to pry the doors open, with no results, “Roofs too dented Cap, I can’t get it open.” Bobby nodded, and turned to Eddie, “Saws it is. Get in there Diaz, Buck, you too.” The roof was off in no time, Hen and Chim jumped straight in and equipped you with a neck brace, and got the back board in place to move you. Hen checked your vitals quickly, trying to make sure you were steady enough to be moved. “I’ve got a faint pulse, we gotta move.” They moved you out of you car quickly, and transferred you to the ambulance. “Trauma to the abdomen, possible internal bleeding. I’ll let the hospital know we’re en route.” Buck jumps into the back of the ambulance with Chimney, and instantly takes your hand in his. Hen places herself into the drivers seat, putting the ambulance into 911 mode and begins the journey as fast as she can to the nearest hospital. 

Buck hated seeing you like this. He was filled with anxiety, the nausea constantly there as he studied your visible injuries. His heart sank with every second that went by, the more he thought about you laying there almost lifeless, expecting you to flatline any second now. “I’m sorry baby, we can’t leave things like this. I need you to get through this so I can apologise to you. I know I’m not the easiest person to love, and I also know that I’m the biggest pain in the ass, but I love you, and I need you. Please.” Buck sobbed as he held your hand tighter. Time seemed to be going extremely slow for Buck, yet moments later Hen was pulling up at the hospital. You were rushed in, Hen spewed all your information to the nurses as you were wheeled in and handed over. Buck, Hen and Chimney stood there as you were wheeled out of sight. One of the nurses stopped Buck from running after you, and he sat defeated in the waiting room. The rest of the team arrived soon after, Eddies face was similar to Bucks. Eddie spoke first, “Any update?” The lack of response from Buck had him on edge, fearing the worst. Luckily, Chimney filled the silence. “There’s no update, but no news it almost always good news.” 

Eddie placed his hand on Bucks shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze before sitting down next to him. “How’re you holding up?” Buck didn’t look up, instead he kept his head in his hands. He couldn’t respond, he couldn’t trust his voice not to give out. His leg bounced anxiously, and despite not talking, his feelings were painfully obvious. Eddie could empathise, he knew exactly what was going through Bucks mind. It was happening to him too, but he concealed it as much as he could, knowing Buck needed him. “You know, each time we’re sat in these chairs, it never gets easier. You don’t have to talk, I get it. I think you should know that I’m right here for you, I understand. Y/N is going to be okay, that I have no doubt about. She’s my sister, and us Diaz’s, we don’t back down. We fight.” Eddie continues talking, and he’s not sure whether he’s trying to convince Buck or himself. 

A few hours go by, and the team are waiting as patiently as they can for an update. Maddie had arrived some time ago, and was sat with Buck. She was not only there to support her brother, but also her brothers girlfriend, who Maddie had claimed as her best friend shortly after meeting her. Bobby hands a coffee to Buck and Eddie, who hadn’t moved from their seats since arriving. This changed moments later as a nurse approached, making them stand. Buck felt as if his legs were going to give way any second. The nurse cleared her throat, “She’s stable. She’s incredibly lucky to have made it out with the injuries she did, it could’ve been a lot worse. She’s awake, if you’d like to go see her.” 

Buck didn’t stick around to hear whatever else the nurse had to say, he darted through the corridor until he got to your room. He stopped to take a deep breath, and stepped inside. He was scared to look at you, all he could picture was you covered in blood still. His head shot up as he heard a voice, your voice to be exact, “Buck?” 

He was by your bedside in a blink of an eye, taking your hand in his. His eyes wandered over your body, taking in each of your injuries. His heart broke a little more with each one. He finally looked you in the eyes, and that’s when it hit him. His eyes filled up with tears, “Y/N…”

“Hey, don’t cry. I’m fine, see. I’m right here.” You gave his hand a squeeze, trying to give him the reassurance he needed. Buck took a seat close to your bed, your hand in his and against his lips. You move your hand up to his cheek and wipe his tears, Buck practically melted into your touch. “I really thought I had lost you.” 

“I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. I need to apologise for my reaction earlier, that could’ve been our last conversation earlier and left without saying goodbye, or telling you how much I love you.” 

Buck shook his head, “You have nothing to apologise for, I’m the one that owes you an apology. I’m sorry that I’m not more careful when I’m out on a call, I shouldn’t be that reckless. I’m sorry that I can’t promise to walk through that door every night, safe and unscathed. I can appreciate how you feel now, and I promise I’ll try my hardest to be more careful. I love you, and I don’t want you ever feeling anything close to what I’ve felt today.” You wince as you sit up, making Buck panic. You push through the pain, and pull Buck to you. “Come here.” He stands from his chair and leans down to kiss you quickly. He carefully moves your hair from your face, ensuring he doesn’t touch any of your cuts or bruises. 

“I love you too, and even though I’m petrified that you won’t make it home one day, I trust that you’ll try everything in your power to make sure you do. I’m proud of you, Evan.” As you spoke, Buck smiled to himself. A sense of relief washed over him. Before he could respond, you continued. “So… does this mean I can finally get a new car now?” 

Buck chuckled, “You’re a pain in the ass, Diaz.” 

“Takes one to know one, Buck.”

A/N: So, I think I rewrote this like 10 times. Its been a while since I've done any writing, so please bare with me while I figure out my writing style again. Any criticism is welcome, I appreciate the feedback.

#911 abc #911 x reader #911 fox #911 imagine #9 1 1 fanfiction #911 spoilers #911 show #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley imagine #abc 911 #buck x reader #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz imagine #oliver stark #911 on abc #chimney han #911 chimney #maddie and buck #Maddie and chimney #bobby nash #henrietta wilson #athena grant #bobby x athena #buckley han family #buck x eddie #Diaz!Reader

[yauchfilms]

anything with logan and being back in florida ? would appreciate!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

sunburn ✢ logan sargeant (18+)

pairing: logan sargeant x reader (established relationship)

warnings: smut, porn with plot (lots of exposition sorry i got carried away), one use of y/n, soft dom!logan, switchy!reader, fingering, edging, unprotected p in v, lots of pet names, begging, lots and lots of praise, body part worship if you squint, cursing, logan’s a simp, reader is implied floridian, implied childhood friends to lovers, sunburns, fluffy intimacy

summary: it’s been too long since y/n has been back in the states and she is NOT used to the florida sun like she used to be, but don’t worry, logan knows how to take care of her.

word count: 3.5k

author's note: sorry i got soooo carried away with this i don’t know what came over me. this was NOT supposed to be smut but im just a florida girl crushing on a florida boy here y’all lmao. i’m down so bad for this man that i just went kinda crazy. also this was my first time writing smut so pls bare with me. this is inspired by my friend (and fellow logan girly) who just acquired a nasty sunburn lmaoooo. enjoy!!!!

it had been quite a while since you and logan had been back home together. well, not really, but the weather was typically a lot nicer in the winter months than in the spring and summer, and you were not used to it. after you and logan moved to london together full-time, you rarely saw the sun anymore, and your matching pale complexions certainly reflected that sentiment. 

obviously, the miami race weekend was a big deal for the whole sargeant camp. aunts, uncles, cousins, childhood friends, and grandparents would be making their short trip down i-95 to see logan race, but it also meant that you and logan could spend a week together at home, in the sun, in each other’s company. a free vacation of sorts. logan’s parents were busy getting the house ready for the hordes of guests that were to soon occupy the space, so you and logan were more than happy to get out of their hair and into the back yard for some relaxation. 

it was sunday, and you found yourself lounging out on the dock, lost in a romance novel that was probably making you lose brain cells, when you heard a familiar voice calling out to you.

“y/n!”, logan yelled from where him and coco were playing on the grass. “have you been applying sunscreen?” 

you put your book down, letting out a small huff at his question. logan often took a rather paternal role over you, not in a weird or demeaning way, but rather in the sense that he always has your best interest at heart. and you loved that about him, loved how he always wanted to take care of you without being asked. 

you looked down over the chaise longue you were laid out on, thinking there was a bottle of SPF next to your drink, but all that was there was the can of sparkling water you had been nursing. 

“don’t have any; i’ll be okay!” you called back, hoping that would be the end of it.

“you want me to bring you some? it’s no problem,” logan replied, positioning himself to get up off the ground.

“don’t worry about it; i’m coming inside soon anyways!” you half-lied, knowing that logan usually respected your wishes when it came to things like that. you knew you weren’t necessarily telling him the truth, but he knew you and your stubbornness, and he knew it was not his business to try to fix it. 

another few hours had passed, and logan and the dog had long gone inside to find something else to do. you had stayed out, vowing to finish your book in one sitting. as you closed it, you stood up from the lounger, grabbing your long-abandoned can from the ground, wrapping yourself in the towel that you had been laying on, making your way back into the comfort of the house – and the air conditioning.

walking in through the kitchen, you pass logan’s mom, who was cooking dinner for the family. 

“oh sweetie, looks like you got some color on you!” she exclaims, chopping up some vegetables. 

“yeah, it’s been a minute since i’ve had time to tan! i missed the florida sunshine too much.”

“well, logan’s in his room, and dinner’s in about an hour if you’d like to freshen up,”  mrs. sargeant said sweetly, motioning towards the hallway towards logan’s room.

upon your arrival, logan moved his laptop out of his lap and onto the bed next to him. you took the towel off your shoulders, leaving you in just your bikini, when logan’s eyes went wide with shock.

“what, it’s not like you haven’t seen me in a bikini before?” you quipped, reacting to his sudden change of expression. 

“y/n, you are bright red, like ferrari red,” logan replied, serious as a heart attack. you make your way to the vanity over his dresser, taking in your current state. logan was right. you were burnt. 

“what the fuck dude, i swear i wasn’t out there that long,” you snapped, poking and prodding yourself in the mirror, letting out a wince when you stumbled over a particularly sensitive area.

logan gets off his spot on the bed, making his way towards you, joining you in front of the mirror. his hands immediately fall to your hips out of instinct, but he makes sure not to grab too tightly due to your new look.

“baby,” he says, placing his chin onto your shoulder. you let out another wince, reacting to his touch. “i told you to wear sunscreen. now look at you, my little lobster…”

“this isn’t funny,” you pout, and he leans forward to place a chaste kiss on your lips. you spin around in his arms, now facing him face-to-face rather than through the mirror. 

“stop pouting baby, and go hop in the shower, please. the sooner you get some cold water on you, the better you’ll feel. i can feel the heat radiating off you from here,” logan said with a giggle. his hands linger around your ass, and he gives a slight smack to send you on your way, which elicits a shrill yelp from you due to the sensitivity of the area. 

“are you at least going to join me?” you question as you make your way to his en suite, stopping in the door frame with your arms crossed across your chest. logan lets out another giggle.

“and listen to you whine the whole time? no thanks, plus i showered like an hour ago,” he replies, which garners a predictable whine from you.  “if you make it quick, i might have something that can help you,” he adds, and you turn on your heel into the bathroom, shutting the door with a slam. 

and he was right; the shower hurt like hell, but you know that had he been there, you wouldn’t have been able to properly soak in the cold water, so you silently curse him for being right. 

you walk back into logan’s room, wrapped in your towel, when you see him sitting on the bed, scrolling mindlessly on his phone. he hears you approach, putting his phone down and grabbing the clear bottle off the bed next to him. 

“i found you aloe; well, my mom did. she said your burn is one of the worst she’s seen,” logan said, presenting the bottle to you like it was a participation trophy. 

“is that supposed to make me feel better or worse, logie?” you questioned, feigning offence from his comment. 

“well, the comment probably won’t, but hopefully the aloe does,” he replied. “c’mere, baby,” he cooed, his arms outstretched, welcoming you into his arms. you take your spot on his lap, legs draped over his thigh, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep you in place. logan places a kiss to the bridge of your nose, and along your cheeks, leaning in to admire the newly-formed freckles that were threatening to peak out from underneath the harsh redness of your skin. 

“your freckles are back; reminds me of when we were little, trying to catch fish with my dad in the backyard. you were so bad at it; still are to be honest, but it’s okay because you still look cute trying to bait a hook,” he laughs, his breath giving a cooling sensation to your cheeks, and you wish he would keep talking just to feel his breath against your skin. 

“logan, baby, the aloe?” you suggest, knowing that the time he’s wasting is killing you. all you crave is the feeling of the lotion on you, and his hands being the ones to apply it. 

“sorry, didn’t mean to get sentimental on you, just being here with you makes me think about stuff like that. i sometimes wish we could go back…” logan trails off, and you know what he’s thinking about. he often thinks about the memories of you growing up, how much he missed you when he moved away to the uk, and what it meant to get you back. you like to think of those moments too, sometimes, but he often gets in his head about it. 

“i know,” you coo, lifting a hand up to card through the longer hair on the back of his neck, as a way to soothe him.

he lifts the bottle of aloe up towards you. 

“may i?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow up in an inquisitive way.

“of course you may. how do you want me?” you ask, a mischievous look in your eye.

“do not say it like that, you minx,” logan shot back, your innuendo catching him by surprise. 

“keep talking crazy like that, and we might have a problem,” he snapped, although with no actual malice behind it. “you can lay on your tummy first, though, and i’ll go from there, if that’s okay,” he said, his expression softening as he looked at you. 

you climb out of his lap and onto your stomach on the bed next to him, and he straddles your back to get the proper angle. 

“this okay?” he asks, tugging slightly at the towel that is still loosely wrapped around your back. 

“log, you’ve seen me naked countless times; of course it’s okay,” you quip, turning your head so he can see the side of your face. he leans down, planting a sloppy kiss to your cheek, blowing a raspberry there. this elicits a giggle from you, wriggling underneath him. 

logan drags the towel down your body slowly, his fingers barely grazing your warm, sensitive skin, standing up on his knees to pull it out from under you. 

“i know we aren’t having sex or anything, but could you at least take your shirt off or something? this feels too clinical,” you say, causing logan to burst out laughing above you.

“you are not a real person, i swear to god,” he quips, pulling his shirt over his head in one quick motion. “is that better, princess?” he says sarcastically, using the nickname he only gives you when you’re acting like a handful. 

between your fits of giggles, you let out a “mhm” that signals to logan that he is free to proceed. this evokes an eye roll from logan that you catch out of the corner of your eye. 

his attitude doesn’t last long, however, because before you can protest, his lips find your shoulder blade, peppering kisses along the top of your back, feeling his stubble graze across your skin. it burns, but feels so good at the same time.

“so sweet for me, logie,” you groan, melting into his touch. he reaches for your hair, still damp from the shower, to move it out of his way, as he makes his way across the plane of your body.  

all he can manage is a drawn out “hmmmmm” as he feels the warmth of your skin along his cheek. 

he pulls away suddenly, and you whimper at the loss of contact from him. 

“i know, i know,” he cooes, and you hear the bottle of lotion being opened just out of your periphery. 

his hands make contact with your skin again, feeling the sensation of the cool liquid as he massages it in. his strong hands make their way up and down your back, causing you to arch only slightly, if it wasn’t for him sitting squarely on your ass. 

“you’re killing me, logan,” you half-whisper, his actions genuinely taking your ability to speak at a regular volume, the intimacy of it all being just a little too much for you. 

“feels good, huh?” he asks, and although you can’t see it, you can tell that he’s cocked his eyebrow at you, and you’re surprised he’s been able to behave himself this long. 

his hands work swiftly, massaging the liquid in with long, deft fingers, the sensation driving you crazy.

“logan, i want you, please,” you whine, looking up over your shoulder to meet his gaze, your eyes softening in an almost begging manor. 

“i thought you said we weren’t–” 

“i lied. i’m a liar. i need you right now,” you beg, as logan stands back up on his knees to allow you to roll over underneath him, him now settled on your thighs.

“fuck, baby, i can’t say no to you,” he huffs, not sure exactly how to make the next move. he looks down at you splayed out in front of him, taking in the sight before him. a hand reaches down to caress down your chest, fingers grazing slightly over your nipple, causing your breath to hitch. 

“we have to make it quick, okay? can you be good for me?” he asks, his hand lingering on your left breast. 

you let out a whimper, shaking your head slightly.

“words, baby,” he sighs, his fingers massaging into the tissue of your chest. 

“yes, i’ll do whatever you want,” you whisper, unable to find your voice with how turned on you were. 

“that’s my pretty girl,” logan cooes, leaning down to place a kiss on your lips, adjusting himself so he’s slotted between your legs. the kiss deepens, his tongue finding its way into your mouth, as he swallows your muffled moans, trying to avoid the awkward conversation with his mom later. 

“gotta be quiet, baby,” he whispers, his hand running up and down your side, the warmth of his hand searing your sensitive skin.

“god, i feel like we’re in high school again,” you say, rolling your eyes at him.

“except i wasn’t nearly as good then as i am now, though,” he smirks, diving down to leave a trail of kisses from the corner of your mouth to the base of your neck, softly nibbling on your pulse point. 

“are you gonna prove it?” you ask, trying to rile him up.

this question evokes something in him, his breath against your skin coming hot and sudden, and you could feel the deep exhale from his nose.

leaning up to your ear, he whispers, “you are such a brat.”

the sensation from the whisper mixed with the sting of his words sends a shock straight to your core. he’s not always the best at dirty talk, but he still somehow knows exactly what to say and when to say it. 

“touch me, logan,” you manage to squeak out, your breath growing heavier the more you took in his words, and he was eager to oblige.

with that, the hand that found comfort on your hip trailed its way down between your bodies, grazing the softness of your stomach, fingers oh-so-gently teasing your folds. 

“so wet, huh? so worked up for me? you drive me so fucking crazy, you know that?” he growls, his voice rasping as he begins rubbing small circles against your clit with his thumb. “one or two, baby?” he asks, and you know exactly what he means. 

“two, please”, you whine into his mouth, body arching up into him before he even has the chance to touch you properly. 

“good girl, take it so well,” he groans, sliding two fingers into your cunt, almost too slowly. his voice is almost unrecognizable, the threat of being too loud taking over. his thumb continues its pattern on your clit.

you feel the tension building as he fucks his hand in and out of you, but not before you feel him slowing his pace down.

“i know you wanna come now baby, but we don’t have long. i’m gonna stop, and we can come together, okay?”, he half-whispers. 

his hand moves from its spot between your thighs back up toward your lips, as he rests his fingers on your bottom lip, cocking his eyebrow at you. 

“o-okay,” you squeak out, and with that, his fingers push past your lips, urging you to suck them clean, and you oblige, swirling your tongue around his digits, tasting yourself on his fingers. 

your hands trail down between you two, your fingers dipping underneath his shorts and boxers, toying with the waistband. 

logan removes his fingers from your mouth, opting to move back to your jawline, planting lingering kisses along the bone.

“quit teasing, baby, want you on top. let me see those pretty tits of yours, yeah?”, he smirks, knowing that him complimenting your body drives you crazy in the best way. 

you oblige with a searing kiss to his lips, opting to pull his shorts down in one motion, cock bobbing free and slapping across his stomach. he reaches down to finish taking them off, throwing them on the floor with your long-abandoned towel. 

he rolls you both over with ease, you now on top. your fingertips graze his chest, down to his abs, grabbing his cock and giving it a few quick pumps to make sure he’s ready. 

“ready, log?” you ask, your hands now on either side of his head, his blue eyes sparkling back up at you, your hips and ass now up in the air waiting for his cue. 

he leans up to chase your lips, trying to kiss you, just out of his reach. 

“please, baby, i can’t take it much more,” he begs, using his arms to pull you down to him, sinking down on him, and meeting his lips with yours. now it’s his turn to moan into your mouth. 

“fuuuuuck,” is all he’s able to get out, his hands finding their way to your hips, trying to help you relieve the lack of sensation. Your hips roll for the first time over him, and his hips immediately buck up into you.

“patience, baby. i thought i was the desperate one?” your words go right to his cock, making him buck up once again, making you speed up your motions. you feel the effects of his desperation on your body, the coil in your stomach winding tighter with every bounce on his cock.

“fuck, you’re close, baby; so am i,” logan pants, the physicality of it all catching up to him. he knows your body so well; he can always tell when you’re about to come. 

with his observation, you lean back with your hands behind you on his thighs, your hips continuing to roll against his body, eliciting a low, grumbling moan from logan. he loved you like that, all cock-drunk and lazy on top of him. it also meant that he had a perfect view of your tits, both his hands reaching to grab at them as he continued fucking up into you. 

“these are so fucking perfect. all mine. i can’t believe you’re all mine, baby,” logan pants, both of your movements becoming lazier, as he rolls your nipples in between his fingers, feeling your already-tight walls close in on his cock.

you can feel your orgasm quickly approaching with his presence on your tits, and you know that he isn’t going to last long, either. you lean forward, diminishing the space between you two, giving logan the opportunity to bear hug you. his thrusts up into you send you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you, causing you to let out a muffled moan onto his right pec. your vision goes slightly blurry for a second until you hear a grunted “fuck, baby”, followed by the feeling of logan’s hips sputtering underneath you. he comes shortly after you, spilling into you. 

You collapse onto his chest, your highs riding out together. he doesn’t loosen his grip around your back, planting a sweet kiss to the top of your forehead, pulling out as you lay pitifully on his chest.

“so good for me, baby, so sweet. fuck, i’m so lucky,” he whispers, rubbing your back where, just a few minutes earlier, he was applying aloe lotion. he rolls you both over so that you’re now facing each other on your sides. 

you reach a hand up to caress his face, feeling the stubble from a week’s worth of no races, the hair rough against your smooth palm. 

“logie, you fucked me so good i almost forgot about this damn sunburn,” you giggled, “but now we’re done and it just hurts again!”

“guess that means i’ll just have to fuck you again,” logan smirked, burying his head into the crook of your neck, eliciting more giggles from you. you begin to hook your leg over his thigh, bringing you even closer, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. you almost begin the cycle over again until you hear a knock on the door that has you both frozen in your tracks. 

“dinner!” you hear his mom cheer from the other side of the door, and then her footsteps clearly walking back down the hall towards the kitchen. 

“guess not,” you teased, eliciting an eye roll from logan, who quickly gets up to pull you into the bathroom to get cleaned up. 

#logan sargeant smut #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #logan sargeant #logan sargeant x reader

[lorarri]

★ . . . 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 , 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

summary , being forced to go to a gp was not something on Y/N's 2023 bingo card but who knows maybe she will create a friendships that could help her thought this tough time

pairing , step dad! lewis hamilton x fem! young teen! reader

pervious part | series masterlist | main masterlist | f1 masterlist | lewis hamilton masterlist | next part

MOTHER Lewis has got us VIP tickets to the Australian gp Isn't that exciting!

Y/N but I have an archery comp on that weekend

MOTHER dw about it I've pulled you from the comp you can do the next

Y/N are you fucking kidding me you pulled me from a comp to go watch you boyfriend's race what the fuck?!?!?!

MOTHER language young lady first of all he my fiance and he is gonna be your step father soon

Y/N he is not gonna be my anything as far as I'm concerned and the only way I am going is if you drag me there kicking and screaming so fuck you

MINJI babe where is u at?

Y/N @ the Aussie Gp 💀 ... girl don't u remember me telling you guys about this 🙄

HANNI We do but your mom just called asking if we knew where you were 😭😭

Y/N wtf would you guys know where I am 😐

DANIELLE cuz aparently she can't find you and she thinks you are trying to catch a flight out of the country to avoid spending time with her and lewis 🫣

Y/N tf is this bitch on? I would never put that much effort into her let that be know first and for most 😝 second of all I'm hanging out with Max and Daniel 😌 so dw I'm not trynna skip town 😔

HAERIN Max and Daniel? as in like Red Bull's drivers Max and Daniel as in like Mad Max 😡 and big dick Danny ric 🤠

Y/N ew 🤢🤢🤮🤮 never say that again 🚫 but yes that would be them 👍

MINJI ... proof or it never happened 👀

Y/N

happy now?

HANNI okay but how did you even meet?

Y/N walked off to have a smoke and ran into them and started talking

DANIELLE ain't your mom gonna be pissed though?

Y/N why?

HAERIN cuz your created a better bond with Max and Daniel then what you have with Lewis

Y/N tbh I don't really fucking care Lewis seems like an alright guy ngl but I don't like how my mother is forcing me to spend time with him it's awkward and weird escpially since my dad is refusing to answer my calls or texts and everytime a ask my mother about it she says "maybe he is busy sweetheart" and "well look at it this way it will be the perfect opportunity to bond with Lewis" so yeah I have 0 shits to give rn anyway I need to go time for the race max says I can watch in the red bull garage

NANA (EX WIFE) my plan isn't working I thought by forcing you to stay away Y/N and Lewis could bond but I think she hates him more now

JUNHO (EX HUSBAND) no shit sherlock btw I'm coming to pick Y/N up this weekend she staying at my house till she has to go back to school

NANA (EX WIFE) is that bitch gonna be there?

JUNHO (EX HUSBAND) yes my girlfriend is going to be there and I am going to show you the correct way of introducing your kid to your new partner and that starts by telling them the truth about why you marriage ended in the first place and since you refuse to tell her I will read

#꒰꒰ ‧₊˚📁 ─ lola's works ˚₊· ꒱꒱ #f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #fake instagram imagines #social media au #f1 imagines #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x female reader #lewis hamilton x fem!reader #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagines #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton instagram au #lewis hamilton blurb #formula one x reader #lewis hamilton social media au #lewis hamilton angst #lewis hamilton one shot #formula one x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #sir lewis hamilton #f1 fic #f1 social media au #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #f1 x you #f1 fanfiction

[maraudersmyloves]

hii! i have a request i thought of a few days ago, fem!reader x slytherin boys (mainly mattheo riddle) where they noticed something wrong with her and she lies about it and mattheo says something along the line of “cut the bullshit”

CW: cussing, Angst, insecure reader, screaming, Arguing

You've been hanging out with the Slytherins less and less, not eating with them or hanging out at Blaise's Dorm after class.

That Fact alone wouldn't be unusual. It's exam Season after all and you often spend that time holed up in your Dorm, Studying and Eating what your Roommates bring you up.

The Problem occurs when you stop coming to Sunday Hangouts.

It's not an actual Agreement or anything, but it's become a Routine never broken.

Never.

No matter what's going on, on Sunday at around 9 PM you all meet at the Greenhouse.

Mattheo's always the first there and Tom's the last.

Pansy never figured out a certain time she would arrive while Draco always turns up at exactly 9:06:56

Down to the motherfucking Second

Blaise always brings a Book he doesn't read, Theo always forgets the Snacks he's supposed to bring and brings the sweets only he likes instead, while you always bring a Sketchbook.

It's 9:34 and you're not here.

You weren't there last week but Blaise convinced the others to talk about it Today.

Mattheo was stressing about talking with you and got into an all-time high of fights all week.

Now, you're not here.

Everyone is here

Except for you

It's pissing Mattheo off and at this point, the others are just as peeved

You are in your room crying

You know you should be at the Greenhouse rn, and doing anything else feels weird

The last 3 years you have spent every Sunday at the Greenhouse

For two weeks you haven't

The Slytherins loudly knock on your door and you quickly wipe away the tears, taking a few deep breaths to seem more collected

Mattheo sees your red eyes and is immediately worried although anger quickly overcomes him

Why didn't you tell him something was wrong?

God, why can you never just talk to him??

"Oh, hi guys!"

You force a smile but they see through it

"Wtf, y/n. Where have you been, what's going on???"

"I've just been studying, you know how i get"

"Cut the crap, wtf is actually going on?"

Blaise pulls him back a bit to not make you feel cornered

Theo steps forward, missing the point of Mattheo getting pulled back "We worry!! You can't just cut contact for two weeks. We excused you not coming to hang out last week but two times in a row?!"

"Calm down guys, I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation to all of this, Right?" Pansy says, but the last words have some venom you didn't expect.

Not from her

Your best Friend

Hot tears fall from your eyes and Tom pulls Pansy to the side while Mattheo steps closer, his eyes filled with worry

"Mi Vida? Can I hug you?"

His Voice is soft and his open Arms look so inviting.

You want to step back and say no so badly when you remember the words that caused this, but you can't bring yourself to do so. Silently nodding

He wraps his arms around you in a matter of seconds pulling you as close as he can.

You can hear Blaise's annoyed voice talk the others into leaving you alone

He is the only one smart enough to realize how overwhelmed you are

One after the other they usher out

All with various amounts of Backtalk, while you and Mattheo stay still. Standing in the middle of the now empty room, Papers and Books scattered all around you, Mattheo buries his Head in your Neck.

"Wanna tell me what's wrong, baby?"

Pt. 2 with Backstory and more Angst?

#headcanon #fluff #writing #fanfic #harry potter #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #slytherin boys react #slytherin #slytherin boys x reader

[ahockeywrites]

Prompt 44 w/ nh13 👀

I’m mildly obsessed with that man

⁴⁴⁾ “i like you so much better with my hand around your throat.” from this list

warnings: smut!, explicit fem!reader, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it!), spitting in mouth, spanking, choking, oral!fem receiving, oral!m receiving, sucking on fingers, degradation (use of the word slut once)

authors note: can be seen as a second part to through the fog, i see you

to say that you didn’t like Nico was an understatement. you loathed him. yes, you had slept with him once in a dirty club bathroom, but that’s all it was. a one time thing where he did the one thing no man before or after him could do. he got you off. and he enjoyed it.

the fact that two weeks later, after their east coast road trip, you found yourself under him for the first time. in his apartment. in his bed. as his dark hair fell into his face, he didn’t bother to push it out the way as it would only deter his actions, namely using all his energy to thrust himself into you with as much force as possible, trying to knock out as much air from your lungs as possible.

sweat beaded on his brow and the odd drop made its way down to his chin and fell onto you. it was hot in the dirtiest way possible. he had already spat in your mouth, after spending what felt like hours between your legs and made you swallow it before calling you a good girl as his large fingers slipped inside.

you’d sucked on his thumb, pretending it was his cock, before he’d let you anywhere near his member. to make sure that you were ready for it hitting the back of your throat. he’d held your head still, by your hair, as he thrusted in and out of your mouth before coming all over your face. then he collected some on his finger and made you lick it off. he had spanked you as you rode him when you stopped looking him directly in the eyes.

nico was easily the sexiest hookup you’d ever had.

he pulled out of you quickly but grabbed your legs and yanked you down the length of the bed so your legs dangled off the end. his strong body squatted down to be between your legs, but instead of putting his tongue or fingers to use, he put your ankles on his shoulders. he rose and pushed the tip of his cock into you.

“you like that baby,” he whispered as he bent over to cage your body in. you were almost folded in half and it was delightfully painful. as he bent over his cock filled you once more and your eyes rolled in the back of your head. “yeah she does, she fucking loves this, doesn’t she. my fucking little slut.”

your eyes were open wide and all you could do was nod at speed. you did love it and there was nothing you could do to lie to nico. you may have hated him when he wasn’t fucking you, but god damn you loved him when he fucked you.

his hands rested on your tits, kneading the muscle and increasing the pleasure you were feeling. his right hand twitched and you knew he wanted to move it.

“choke me, nico, please,” tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as you requested something that no other lover would oblige to.

“fuck me baby,” his thrusts slowed down and he leant back. his abs rippled as the thought went through his mind. “hit the mattress three times if it’s too much baby.”

you nodded once more and his hand wrapped itself around your neck. he started thrusting again and the slight restriction of air heightened the feeling of nico’s cock hitting you everywhere it needed to, the way his public bone rubbed against your clit and the callouses on his fingers from his training.

it took him a few minutes to get back up to full speed but when he was there, neither of you could stop. moans left both of your mouths and you didn’t know how someone could make you feel as amazing as he did.

“come for me,” nico instructed and you followed. your eyes rolled back in your head as he caused you to see stars and smell colours. his grip on your neck loosened as you felt him twitch inside you before he leant over you and pressed his lips to yours. his hips thrusted for a final time before you felt him coat your walls with warm liquid.

“i like you so much better with my hand around your throat,” nico whispered in your ear. “significantly less shit is being spouted.”

“if you like it so much,” you replied, trying to keep as much sass in your voice as you could. it wasn’t much because nico pulled himself out of you and settled between your legs again. “why don’t you do it again?”

#ahockeywrites #nhl imagine #hockey writing #nhl fanfiction #nhl writing #hockey fic #hockey story #nh13 #nico hischier smut #nico hischier fic #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x reader

[vexcraft]

also on ao3 here!

special delivery

Pearl was fairly certain this was not in her job description. 

She supposed she had agreed to do special deliveries and while she would not necessarily count this as one because there was a permit for these kinds of jobs – though she figured that since there was no transaction involved she wasn’t breaking the law and then technically this was not necessarily a job for the man with the mob permit – this was still something she would have called Scar for. If he was available that was. Which brings her to the next problem.

Scar was currently very small, very grey, and a little feathery. And also in her mailbag.

Pearl did know a little about the vex thing. Not a whole lot, it didn’t really come up all that often, but at least she knew enough to realize that the little creature she had spotted inside one of the chests of the explosive firework shop was Scar. She had noticed the chest wasn’t properly closed when she had been restocking her flower truck and she would hate it if rainwater ruined the fireworks that from what she’d heard could cost Cub more to make than he was selling them for, so she had decided to help the man out and close the chest. Only to find a very small Scar in it.

She had no idea what to do with a vex though. Especially with a vex that seemed very much to be sleeping and showing zero signs of planning on waking up any time soon. So she had carefully picked Scar up where he had been curled up in the middle of the fireworks and gently placed him in her bag, glad that she had already delivered all the mail that had been there earlier.

She was also, for once, glad that her donkey was as slow as it was. It made the journey to the one person she figured could probably help her with this issue a little more steady. Steady was what she needed right now – she didn’t trust herself to fly or even run with a literal person in her bag.

The journey took a while, and every now and then she looked into her bag to make sure everything was alright. Each time Scar seemed just as asleep as the last time and she briefly wondered if he was maybe unconscious and not just sleeping – but he seemed to be tossing and turning a little so she wasn’t too worried. Surely Cub would know what was up.

Pearl couldn’t say she was surprised she saw sculk when Cub’s area came into view. The extent of it was mildly terrifying though, especially as he resided quite close to her, but she paid it no mind. She had more important things to worry about, like finding Cub (and maybe hoping that he was not covered in sculk). 

“Cub?” she called as she got off the donkey. She didn’t have a lead and there weren’t any fence posts nearby anyway – she would just have to hope the donkey wouldn’t wander off the pathway into the sculk. “You around here?”

She heard the sound of a firework going off and quickly a rather normal-looking (aside from all the dye stains) Cub landed before her. 

“Hey hey,” Cub greeted her. “What’s up? Good to see you, Pearl.”

“I have a special delivery for you,” Pearl explained, putting on her slightly more professional mail lady voice. 

“Hmm?” Cub hummed, obviously curious. “Intriguing. I don’t remember buying anything or signing up for anything.” 

“Yeah, about that…” Pearl opened her bag and held it out enough for Cub to be able to look inside. He took a few steps forward to peek into the bag and then let out a little amused sound.

“I see, I see,” Cub nodded, reaching into the bag. Pearl winced a little as Cub picked up the sleeping vex by the scruff of his neck like one might hold a small kitten – she was certain Cub knew how to handle a vex miles better than she did but after spending the better part of the last hour being as careful as she could it did catch her off guard a little. Scar didn't seem to mind, still deep asleep. “Where did you find him?”

“He was sleeping amongst the fireworks in a chest at your shop,” Pearl said as she watched Cub cradle the vex in his arms – or rather his arm, he didn’t really need both of his arms to hold something so small. “I figured that might not have been the best place for him.”

“Makes sense, makes sense,” Cub nodded and Pearl had no idea what exactly about this was making sense to Cub, but she was glad something was. “Thank you for bringing him here, I’ll take care of him.”

Cub looked like he was about to turn around and leave to do whatever one did to care for a vex and Pearl couldn’t stop her curiosity. 

“Cub? Can I ask a question before you go?” 

The man paused. “Sure, of course,” he replied. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry which did ease Pearl’s nerves a little. “Shoot.”

"Why?” she asked and it came out a little less polite than she was hoping for. “I mean, is he like, alright? I’ve never seen that happen before. Had me a little worried there.”

Cub seemed to either not notice her tone or simply not care. “Just means he’s really tired. Like really really tired. Nothing too serious, I’ll talk to him about it.” Scar turned a little in Cub’s hold almost like he knew he was being talked about. “It happens sometimes, every now and then.”

“He’ll just be back to normal once he’s rested?” All of this was raising more questions than answering them, but she didn’t want to pry. 

“Yep,” Cub confirmed. “He seems to like sleeping in chests, not the first time he’s been found in one. I’ve never tried to put him in a shulker box, do you think I could mail him?”

Pearl just stared at him. “Please do not try to mail Scar.”

#pearlescentmoon #goodtimeswithscar #cubfan135 #jules hc txt #hermitcraft season 10

[aperrywilliams]

It Was Horrible Until It Wasn't (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Reader comes up to her apartment after Spencer walks her home from the diner, where they spend the last couple of hours. She is still processing the night and wonders if they will meet again. Another fortuitous event makes that happen. In which terms they will part ways again?

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Mention of guns (tests to carry a gun). Mention to Reader's ex. Some strong words? IDK what else. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: I got very excited after your reactions and comments to "If Anything, I Find it Educative." So this is kind of part two, from Reader's perspective. I'm not convinced about a series yet, even if I have some ideas. What would you like to see if it happens?

-----

Reader's POV

-----

As I open the door, a bunch of cardboard boxes scattered on the floor greets me. That reminds me that I haven't unpacked all my things yet.

I've only been living here for two weeks, and I'm still getting used to the idea that this is my new home. 

It doesn't feel like it yet. 

But the boxes will be a problem for tomorrow. Now, I only want to take off these high heels and this fancy dress and call it a night - a pretty eventful night.

Not only did I have to confront my ex with his new girlfriend, but I also had to pretend I was okay with it. But how did I expect to do that? Did I genuinely think two months would be enough to be outside again to prove I got myself up? 

How naive of me.

I make a beeline to my bedroom, not even bothering to look at the rest of the apartment.

Again, it's tomorrow's problem.

Retreating my phone from my purse, I plug it to charge over my bedside table as I strip from my clothes and go to the bathroom to do my nightly routine.

The entire time, my mind doesn't stop wandering. At some point, it settles on the girl I helped from choking. It was a total coincidence for me to be there. I only approached the bar for another drink when I heard that man rambling. I don't know why my ear perked up, but it did. When I look to find the voice's source, my eyes land on the man and the girl by his side.

He was talking as if the world would end if he didn't, and the girl only eyed him from head to toe, clearly not giving a damn what he was saying. I kept subtly listening to them while sipping my drink. The guy's voice had something enchanting. I would have heard him talk for hours if it were from me. It was a bad thing his interlocutor wasn't so receptive, and when she occasionally said something, it was a flirting remark that only made him uncomfortable. 

What a shame.

When I noticed her fighting to breathe, swatting her hands in desperation, and the poor guy froze on the spot, I knew I needed to do something.

I didn't think much of it and wrapped my arms around her torso to help her. It worked. The oyster she choked with flew into the air, and she could breathe again.

But the next thing I knew, her palm connected to the man's cheek.

The poor guy seemed so confused, and the people talking around didn't help either. What a shitty situation. And as the good citizen I am, I tried to do something about it, only to get lashed out by the same woman I just saved from choking.

Fuck it. 

Seeing the people's attention returned to them, I walked away. That wasn't my fight in the first place.

Returning from the bathroom, I hear my phone ding. It's a text from my friend Andie.

Andie: How did the gala turn out? Did you see him? He was with her, right?

Andie had insisted on me not going to the gala, although I repeated to her several times that it was okay, that nothing would happen, and that I couldn't hide forever.

Me: You were right. I wasn't ready.

It's a defeat I must recognize. I wasn't prepared to see them.

Andie: My girl, I'm so sorry. It must have been awful for you.

It was, but it doesn't mean the night was a disaster.

Me: It was horrible until it wasn't. I can tell you more tomorrow. Now, I only want to go to bed.

Andie: You have me a bit confused here, but okay. I'll call you tomorrow. Sleep tight; I love you.

I return my phone to the charger and slip under the covers.

It was horrible until it wasn't.

I keep thinking about that. And a smile tugs the corner of my lips. Since Spencer - the guy who got slapped by the oyster-choked girl - approached me at the terrace, the night wasn't that awful anymore.

Who would have thought I would end my night in a diner, dressed to the nines and spouting details of my messy life to a stranger?

-

Monday morning comes faster than I wanted. 

I spent my Sunday mostly unpacking boxes and tidying my apartment, and now, with a coffee in hand, I cross the hall to my office on the third floor of the FBI building in Quantico.

Some colleagues greet me as I pass by. I return them with a polite smile. I saw a couple of them at the gala on Saturday. I only hope they didn't notice the wreck I was that night.

On my desk, a pile of hundreds of manila folders are waiting for me.

This Monday will be a blast.

Dutifully, I reach for the first folder to start my work, as my ear perks up to two colleagues' conversation about the gala.

"Did you see them? Those hot chicks from Counterterrorism?" a male colleague says to another.

"Yeah. I heard one of them was hitting on Reid from the BAU. What a waste!" The other adds.

"And the lucky bastard wasn't able to take her home. His nerdy charm didn't even help him with that."

The mention of the BAU brings Spencer to my mind again. And I realize I don't even know his last name. 

I don't think I need to know, but I can't stop my fingers from typing 'Spencer FBI BAU' on my computer.

My findings make the conversation between my colleagues intriguing. They were precisely talking about Spencer, Spencer Reid, and the girl with him at the gala. Clearly, the incident did not go unnoticed.

I don't like the tone they refer to him, either. I do not know the guy well, but I'm sure he's way better than any of the men at the venue that night.

Are you hearing yourself (Y/N)? That kind of blind trust put you in this situation with your ex in the first place.

I shouldn't grant credibility so fast, but honestly? Spencer seems to be everything but a threat. The things he said, the way he spoke. Anyway, I should stop thinking about that if I want to finish some work. Yeah, that's what I need to do.

Drowning out the noise, I return to the opened folder and continue working.

Some would ask how a task as monotonous as the one I'm doing now could be appealing to someone. The appeal for me comes from how everything fits in the right places and serves a purpose. That's enough for me, even if some people don't understand it.

My ex didn't. And as him, many others.

I'm still fighting to ease the effects their judgments had on me.

Around lunchtime, stopping the papers review, I pick up my phone to check my messages. Yesterday, I promised Andie I would have lunch with her today, so I'm checking for her confirmation and a place to meet.

Just in time, a text comes. She is free right now and suggests a restaurant just outside the building.

"Hey, girl! I'm glad you made it," she greets me as I spot her on one of the tables.

"Of course. I promised I would."

Lunchtime is only one hour, so we order quickly and go straight to the matter.

"I can't believe the son of the bitch decided to go and show off his new conquest," Andie huffs.

"Not that new, considering she has been sleeping with him in what used to be my bed at least a month before I discovered it," I correct with an annoyed look.

It's good to say these things without crying my eyes out anymore.

I tell Andie more details about how it went to share a space packed with mutuals around us and try to stay composed.

"But at some point, I just couldn't. So I retracted to the bar. I only wanted to grab a drink and be alone."

Andie nods in understanding.

"I don't blame you. So you were at the bar when you crossed to the girl to whom you did Heimlich?"

Yesterday, by phone, I told Andie the main facts regarding that, and after laughing for a solid five minutes about the whole ordeal, she made me promise to reveal more details in our lunch meeting.

That's why I'm describing what happened piece by piece.

"She slapped the guy? And she yelled at you? What a bitch! But I don't understand why he apologized on her behalf."

"Honestly? I didn't understand it, but it made sense after talking with him. The guy felt responsible, even if it wasn't related to him. It was the fact that someone had to do the right thing," I explain, with my eyes fixed on my water glass, recalling Spencer's words from that night. 

I can't help but feel some fondness for his genuine worry. Andie raises an eyebrow and hums.

"The guy made a good impression on you, I see."

Andie's tone is teasing, and I know exactly where she is heading.

"Come on, don't start with that," I warn her. I'm not thoroughly annoyed, but I'm not in the mood for teasing. Andie scoffs.

"I'm just saying it's good to know there are men out there that give hopes up. That's all!"

"Sure," I mumble, not very convinced by her explanation.

The rest of our lunch follows a similar tone. When I finish telling Andie about Spencer walking me home, I know she is biting her tongue to say something to taunt me, but she holds back and opts for a question.

"Do you think you'll see him again?"

I ponder my answer. I don't know, although I remember Spencer asking, 'See you around?'

That doesn't mean we agreed to see each other again, even if I said, 'Sure, why not?' 

Did Spencer mean that? Did he want to see me again?

"I don't know. Maybe. We both work in this building, so there are chances, I guess," I shrug. Andie narrows her eyes.

"But do you want to?"

That's a question I don't know how to answer, so I take some seconds to think about it.

"Let's say I'm not opposed to the idea."

A reply that could be an understatement. But not I'm telling Andie that.

She doesn't press on the matter, though. And I'm grateful she doesn't.

Now it's time to go back to work. We walk out of the restaurant to our building and separate ways at the elevator. Andie continues to the eighth floor when I hop off on the third.

Returning to my desk, I continue checking the folders piled on my desk, and my mind only focuses on that, knowing if I don't, there is no chance of getting this stack finished.

----

A good thing about the week progressing is nobody talking anymore about the damn gala. It's been a nightmare since Monday when everyone had to mention something about it. That included comments about me facing my ex there. 

Of course, it was public knowledge I was dating an agent of the Criminal Investigative Division. Also, it became public knowledge he cheated on me with his current girlfriend from Counterterrorism.

But finally, it is Thursday, and everything seems to have returned to normal, so much so that the amount of work has increased exponentially. That's why I'm still at the office at seven pm.

I only assume it's time to go home when my boss pokes out of his office and calls for Andrew, one of our coworkers who distributes files and memos to the other departments.

I turn around, and it's only me at this hour. My boss notices the vacant office and is now talking to me.

"I guess I have to ask you to do this. Can you go to the sixth and drop this to Aaron Hotchner's office? I would have waited until tomorrow for Andrew, but this must be at his desk today."

I don't think I have a choice, so I pick the folder, promising to drop it before going home.

With my coat and purse, I grab the folder and stroll to the elevator.

I have been working here for four years and know every financial detail of each Quantico department, but I still need to recognize all department locations in this facility. So, floors are just floors, except the eight where Andie works.

Arriving at my destination, I walk into a bullpen, where I can see a lot of desks and offices. And just like my floor, it is almost empty. Anyway, I see one of the offices with lights on. My instinct tells me that's the place I'm looking for, and the plaque at the door confirms my suspicions: SSA Aaron Hotchner.

"Come in," a voice comes from the office when I knock.

Peeking inside, a stern-looking man is glancing in my direction. "Can I help you?" he asks with a slight frown.

"Yes, sir. I'm with the Finance Division, and my boss asked me to bring this to you," I explain as I reach out to hand him the folder. When he grabs it, realization washes over the man.

"Of course. Thank you very much-" Agent Hotchner trails off.

"(Y/L/N)," I supply, knowing he wants my last name.

"Thank you very much, Agent (Y/L/N)."

Weird. 

Everyone in the finance and administrative department refers to each other only by last name. We use the 'agent' thing mainly with those who do the fieldwork, and we are used to that.

"You're welcome, Agent Hotchner," I smile politely, ready to leave the man's office. He nods approvingly.

"Hotch, sorry for interrupting you, but I'm ready with my report. I thought you wanted it-"

A man talks, entering abruptly at the office. He stops in his tracks when he sees Agent Hotchner isn't alone.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were with someone. I can come back later," he apologizes.

Wait. I know that voice. 

I turn, and I see Spencer standing there. His eyes meet mine, and I feel my cheeks burn. He doesn't say anything but doesn't tear his eyes from mine.

I don't know how many seconds pass, but it's enough for Agent Hotchner to intervene.

"Reid?" he calls Spencer's attention.

"Uh?"

"The report. It's okay; you can give it to me," he tells Spencer, not without subtly bouncing his gaze between us.

"Oh. Okay." Spencer approaches Hotchner's desk, but he still directs glances at me. I want to say hi to him properly, but it doesn't feel okay knowing the man in front of us is undoubtedly his boss. I don't want him to feel uncomfortable. So, I take that as my cue to leave.

"If you excuse me," I tell Agent Hotchner, signaling my departure. Spencer looks at me, and I give him a subtle smile.

"Of course. Thank you again, Agent (Y/L/N)."

"To you, sir. Have a good evening."

I walk down the stairs to the open bullpen and toward the elevator.

Before I can push the go-down button, a voice calls my name. It's Spencer's.

"(Y/N), wait!"

I turn and see him trotting towards me.

"Hi!" he says once we are face to face.

Now I feel bad. Spencer comes here to say hi, and I didn't greet him properly just two minutes ago. 

"Spencer, hi. I'm sorry, I should have said something there, but I didn't know if you wanted him to know- I mean, I supposed he was your boss, and I-"

What's wrong with me? 

Why can't I explain myself without stumbling with my words?

"No. No. Don't apologize. It's okay. I should have told you something, too. But I didn't expect to see you here."

"Me neither. My boss sent me here instead of one of my coworkers, who left early. I didn't know this was the BAU floor. What a coincidence, uh?" I play cool, shifting my weight from one foot to another. Spencer nods in agreement.

"Totally. It's good to see you, though. I hoped we could cross paths again."

Isn't it weird that his words have produced a funny tingle in my stomach right now?

"Is that so?" I half-breath, noticing his cheeks turn a shade of pink.

"Yes. I mean, I truly enjoyed talking to you that night," he sheepishly admits.

I more than enjoyed it, Spencer.

"Yeah, me too."

Silence sets between us. And it's time to make a decision. I could say I go home and leave him with a lukewarm 'See you around,' or say I'm leaving, but before doing so, give Spencer my number so we can talk soon. Or...

"Are you busy right now? I'm heading home now, but if you can and want, we can go for a coffee."

Wow (Y/N). Very smooth. I like you smooth.

Spencer's eyes widened, and I wondered for a second if my offer was too straightforward.

"If you have plans, it's okay. We don't have to," I relent.

"Oh, no. I don't. And I would love to go for a coffee with you," Spencer hastens to say. I release a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Yeah?"

"Sure! If you wait for me just a second, I'll pick my things from my desk, and we can go."

----

This time, it's my turn to pick the place.

It's a small coffee shop in the middle of Virginia, just mid-way between Quantico and my apartment.

As we get on the train, I ask Spencer about Agent Hotchner.

"Hotch? Well, he has been at the unit for twelve years now. Gideon, a former agent, told me once he didn't expect Hotch to last long in the BAU. But he proved him wrong. Indeed, Gideon left, and Hotch stayed. Honestly, I can't picture the BAU with another unit chief."

There is a fondness when Spencer talks about Hotchner. I can tell he sees him more than as a superior.

"What about yours?"

Now is my turn to talk about my boss.

"Agent Williams? He is a bureaucrat from head to toe. He had just transferred from another administrative department when I joined the financial division four years ago. At that time, he had ten years working with the FBI. The guy is a genius but lacks social skills. I'm not judging him; I'm a bit like him. But in his position, he needs to make politics, which involves talking and convincing people."

The conversation with Spencer flows so well and easily that I'm as impressed as I was the night of the gala. 

When we reach the coffee shop, we sit facing each other. After ordering our coffee, we start talking about our coworkers.

"So Garcia is our technical analyst. I have to say she is like the team's heart. Besides her outstanding skills, her compassion and care are something out of this world," Spencer admits, and again, I feel the fondness in his voice.

"She seems very special," I add. Spencer nods.

"Very. I don't know what it's like to have a sister, but if I had one, I would have liked someone like her.

So he doesn't have a sister. Does he have brothers, though? We have yet to talk about our families, so this is the first piece of information I get about it.

"What about the guy who came to check what was happening with your girl at the gala?" I ask, and Spencer scoff.

"First of all, Ashley isn't my girl. I think she made it pretty clear that night. And secondly, the guy in question is Morgan, the culprit of why I was with Ashley in the first place."

That's interesting. I want to know more about that.

"How is that?" I ask, sipping my coffee.

Spencer tells me how Morgan insisted they talk to the girls - Ashley and her friends - and how he reluctantly followed him.

I'm about to make a not-so-kind remark when Spencer gets ahead of me.

"I know it may seem like he is a thoughtless person, but he truly means well. I can't entirely agree with his tactics most of the time, but he's right when he tells me I should enjoy more and work less."

"It's safe to say you weren't 'enjoying' that much there," I quip, air-quoting the word 'enjoying.' Spencer chuckles.

"Yeah. Honestly? I have more fun when Morgan kicks doors down in our field chases than when he tries to play wingman for me."

What? Kick doors down?

"Wait a minute. Are you telling me that the FBI had to spend thousands of dollars in repairs for third parties last year because of him?"

I know I'm being dramatic. It's impossible that just one agent destroyed that amount of dollars by kicking doors. But still.

Spencer's eyes widen.

"What? No! I mean, yes. He does that, but thousands of dollars? Last time I checked, doors are not that expensive."

I roll my eyes. That's not the point.

"Okay. I know it's not only Agent Morgan's doing, but did you know the buro's budget had increased by 4% last year due to refunds for field operations? And did you know 70% of that increase refers to agents shattering private property?"

Now, I sound like my boss. Great. I became what I swore to destroy.

Spencer looks at me with amusement. I narrow my eyes to him. "What?"

He clears his throat. "Oh. No, nothing. It's just - well, it's fascinating to hear you talking about - uh - numbers."

I can't help but snort. "Come on, how fascinating that can be?"

Spencer grins. "If anything, I find it educative," he parrots my words from that night, and we fall into a fit of laughs.

"Yeah?" I muse after the laughter subsides. Spencer nods, still a smile gracing his face.

Gosh, that smile.

"Well, I can talk about numbers all day. But I'm sure you don't want me to 'fascinate' you that much."

Spencer hums, faking be pondering his options.

"Don't tempt me. I like to know and talk about everything. But before returning to numbers, I want to ask about your coworkers. I already talked much about mine."

Even if there is not much to say, indulging him with an answer is only fair.

"What can I say? In my area, there are three: Anthony, Leah, and me. We were four then, but Andie was promoted to the eighth floor a year ago. Anthony is a good guy, a little inexperienced, but very eager to learn. We don't have a very close relationship, but he's my protegee at work. Leah is very clever and has enough experience, but sometimes she is not present, making things a little tense between us. Andie is rightfully my friend. We got to the bureau simultaneously, and although she doesn't work with us anymore, we are very close."

Spencer is looking at me with full attention. It's odd to talk about this kind of thing with someone. I don't like to talk about my bonds in general. It makes me feel vulnerable. But for a reason that I still don't get, with Spencer, it feels right.

It's night already, and we are in our third coffee.

"Do you usually drink this amount of coffee daily at this hour? I try to cut off my dosis after lunch, but sometimes I just can't," I point as I stir the spoon on my coffee. Spencer hums.

"I drink a lot of it at any time of the day, every day. It's worse when we are on cases because that shitty coffee at the precincts should not even be called coffee," he scoffs, pouring half of the sugar pot into his cup.

I have already noticed the amount of sugar Spencer has used in his two previous coffees; this third is not the exception.

"I'm sorry, but I have to ask," I say as my eyes dart to his sweet liquid. He follows my line of sight and chuckles.

"I love coffee, but I don't like its bitterness. I know it doesn't make sense, but for me it does."

"Fair enough."

After that, our conversation stumbles to lousy sleep habits.

"Ray hated it. Even once, he told me I purposely got up in the middle of the night to annoy him."

Spencer's brow furrows.

"Ray is your ex?"

Shit. I don't realize I'm talking about him.

Why do I have to mention him? I hate how ingrained he is still in my life.

"Yeah, Raymond. No wonder why things didn't work out between us," I try to joke because I don't want to cry about it anymore.

"An example of a man," Spencer follows my lead, and I'm grateful he doesn't look at me like people usually do when I talk about it. There is no pity. There is no that look saying, 'Oh, poor girl who got cheated on.' It's like a whole understanding. It doesn't make me feel like a failure. And that's a change—a good one.

I chuckle. "Hell, he is."

It's getting late, and it's time to part ways, even if I don't want it. Hours pass quickly with such good company.

"We should get going. It's late," I point as I glance at my phone. Spencer nods in acknowledgment, signaling the waitress to get the check. He is about to fish his wallet when I stop him.

"No. Don't do that. I invited you."

Spencer scoffs, opening his wallet nonetheless. 

"No way. You invited me the other night. You can do it next time."

Next time, uh? I want to say something teasing, but the waitress returns with our check.

We are outside the coffee shop now. I adjust my coat as Spencer does the same with his suit jacket. The night is chilly, and the contrast with the warmth of the coffee shop is evident.

"Can I walk you home?" He offers. I have my doubts about that. It's not that I don't like the idea; I just don't want to use more of his time.

"You don't have to. Really," I shake my head.

"Please? You already said it. It's pretty late," he insists, looking at me with dog puppy eyes. 

Why is he doing that? He is testing my resolve.

"You know I can take care of myself, right? I'm a certificated FBI agent. I can't carry a gun, but sure I could manage," I argue in a teasing tone. Spencer chuckles.

"I know you are. And I'm sure you could. Even though, why no to prolong our evening for fifteen minutes long?" I raise an eyebrow.

"So you really like my company, uh?" 

I'm sure I see a blush creeping his cheeks, and it's endearing.

"I like your company. I thought I made it pretty clear the other night?" he probes. And I don't know how to respond to that.

The truth is quite curious. Teasing Spencer seems so natural sometimes, but now I don't know what to say.

I decide not to say anything and nod, motioning for us to start walking.

Spencer follows me, and we walk in silence for the first block. Then, I feel the need to continue our conversation. I want these fifteen minutes to be as good as the previous two hours.

"Did you know that I used to carry a gun? Although it took me three failed tests to do so."

Spencer looks at me, surprised. I take that as my cue to tell that story.

Once I tell him how I finally managed to pass my shooting test, he starts telling me how he also failed his test a couple of times.

"So you saved your boss life shooting an unsub?" Spencer nods.

"But I really aimed to his leg, not his head," he adds, and we burst into a fit of laughter.

Without realizing it, we are already in front of my building. The laughter subsides when we notice where we are.

I clear my throat. "Well. Uh-thank you. Again," I say, referring to him walking me home.

"No need," Spencer says. "I had a good time today," he adds, smiling. 

I can't help but feel my cheeks burn. Spencer casts his eyes to the ground.

"Me too," I admit, biting my bottom lip. "I - uh."

Why am I so nervous right now? Just say what you want to say!

"I - uh. I'd really like to do this again. I mean, you know, maybe next time could be something planned?"

Spencer's eyes flick to mine. I would say he didn't expect me to say that.

"I would love that," he says, keeping eye contact. And for a moment, I think the breath leaves my lungs. Those eyes are something I didn't see in my life before. I can't describe it, but it's enough to make me speechless.

"I guess it's here when I ask for your number?" Spencer's voice is the one that brings me out of the trance.

I chuckle, mid-embarrassed by my absorption moment. I gesture for him to give me the phone. Spencer does it, and I advert his piercing gaze to focus on typing my number. Once done, I return the device with a playful smile. Jeez, I feel like a damn teenager.

A snort leaves Spencer's lips when he sees the name I used for my contact.

"Really?" He asks. I nod, chuckling.

"It's safe to say you won't forget who I am," I confirm.

"Bet I won't."

"Good. Now I'm going to come up," I gesture to the building. "Good night, Spencer."

"Good night, (Y/N)."

I turn to enter the building, and although I can't see him, I feel him standing there in the cold night until I disappear into the elevator.

Once I cross the threshold of my apartment, a ding comes from my phone. Frowning, I pick it up.

Unknown number: Are you free on Saturday at midday? We could go to lunch. Let me know. Good night. SR.

I bit my lower lip. And after typing a reply, I start my night routine before bed.

Oh, boy. What are you getting into (Y/N)? 

Whatever it is, it feels so good.

-------------

A/N 2: As always, I'm excited to know your thoughts about this one!

-------------

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