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supercutszns · 4 months

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rotten to the touch; luke castellan

series masterlist

wc: 3.2k

pairing: pre-tlt luke castellan x f! reader

synopsis: you’re pretty sure you’re an awful person. you’re pretty sure luke castellan is too. and you’re pretty sure you want to make out with him.

warnings: reader is flawed & not the greatest, luke is ... a little dark🫣, small mention of blood, swearing, lots of making out but no explicit nsfw, a bit toxic, & no more more ‘i can fix him’ or ‘i can make him worse’ it’s ‘he can make ME worse’

notes: this is… sluttier than my usual stuff so it’s not as good but i’m trying, feedback is appreciated! also i wonder what cabin we think this reader would be in, let me know where you’d place her im curious :) maybe i’ll write more of her in the future she’s interesting!! and thank you for 100 followers i am so grateful<3 designated song for this fic is crush by ethel cain

You are a miserable, wicked, asshole of a person, and everybody knows it. Including you.

It’s unclear to you why you turned out this way—every reason to blame never satiates the fury searing your insides. All the campers hate you. The counsellors, too. Even Chiron looks down on the viciousness inside you. You are Camp Half-Blood’s black sheep; a mean, bitter person with no love for the people around you. And it’s not just for show. You know you’re rotten. You know the anger will never go away.

It’s evident in the things you think about other people—the way you pick them apart in your head, toss them aside, because they just don’t see it. This miserable, unforgiving world, with children sleeping on wooden floors because the people who created you think you disposable. Because they can just make more of you. More, more, more, until one of you comes out rotten, born of all the ugliness they have inside them. You are the worst parts of Godly blood. The wrathful parts.

Everyone hates you. Everyone hates a person with an unquenchable anger.

But everyone loves Luke Castellan.

He’s a saint at Camp Half-Blood if there ever was one. Handsome, generous, kind. Goes out of his way to help out the new kids and gives them homes in his cabin. He’s the best swordsman in camp by a mile. Shit, you’d even love Luke Castellan if you didn’t know any better.

But you do, and you don’t, and it’s complicated, okay?

Because there’s something you know about Luke Castellan that nobody else does: he’s miserable and wicked, too.

You see it in his eyes sometimes. The way they look at you at dinner, when you’re picking at your food away from anyone else at your table. Something familiar rises in them, and your stomach twists. His body tenses whenever someone mentions his father, but the smiles he flashes are so charismatic nobody notices. But you do. It’s exciting.

During sword practice, he quips back and forth with the kids and laughs whenever they take a jab at him. He’s light, easy, carefree. But you see how he holds back, the tension in his shoulder, the way the arc of his sword never fully finishes. So you wait until everybody leaves and he’s alone, with the training dummies and the setting sun. And you. Hiding.

He slashes through them and spears through their heads. You see it, the gnashing of his teeth, the sweat curling down his cheeks. There’s something there. A chasm he’s hopeless to fill.

Before you know it, you’re going out of your way to catch him training alone. It’s creepy, you know, and awful, you know, but the more you watch him the more you see a sort of violence scabbed under his skin.

Whenever you see him now, the feeling you get is entirely foreign to you. It’s almost . . . longing.

Wherever she is, you’re pretty sure Aphrodite’s having a cosmic fucking laugh. And you’re sure she’s laughing double tonight.

The Aphrodite cabin is hosting some secret party for the older counsellors. You’re definitely of age to be a counsellor, but you’ve never been made one because that would probably make half the campers drop out. Chiron and Mr. D don’t know what to do with you. You’re sure you’ll be kicked out of camp soon for good.

But you’re here anyways, for a reason you don’t want to admit, and you stay tucked in a corner as the world around you mingles. Luke is on the other side of the room, lovely as always, laughing with a few other counsellors. He brings a drink up to his lips, and you have a startling thought of what it would be like to kiss him. And you’re fucked. You’re so fucked. Because for the first time in your life you want something tangible, something real. You want to hear him and feel him and pry him apart, and a part of you wants him to actually see you, see all the awful things that might make you the same. You feel like a teenage girl with a crush, and it is infuriating.

An Aphrodite girl comes up to you with a foolish smile. “Hey, sorry, you want a drink?”

“Fuck off, you idiot,” you snarl.

You wait for her to leave. She doesn’t. “You know, you don’t have to be so mean all the time,” she says evenly. “If you’re here, you might as well enjoy it. So yes, I want to give you a drink.”

“Have you ever thought that I’m not being mean? Maybe I just am.”

You glare at her. She looks you up and down. “Sure,” she shrugs, walking away. There’s a vivid picture in your mind of her falling through a hole in the cabin floor. It doesn’t soothe you, but at least the fantasy is there.

The night drones on. You’re sick of the smells and the laughs and the heat. And you’re sick of yourself. You can’t believe, underneath all your sourness, you came here to stare at a boy you barely know, and you don’t even know why. He’s fascinating, and you resent him, and he’s also beautiful. But he’s looked back at you all of three times tonight and you’re sick of the way your skin crawls when he does.

Leaving the cabin brings the relief of the cool night air, and the singularity of your body. You are the only one who feels this rage. You are the only one who hates.

To stave off your discomfort you walk around to the back of the cabin, to the crest of the hill facing the water. The stars above twinkle at you in spite. There’s a bitterness in your throat you want to wash down with something worse (maybe you should have taken that drink), but you know it won’t matter. Nothing matters. Those stars and whatever they hide are apparently the only important things in the universe, so why should anyone care about anything?

They stars only get brighter. It’s probably their goal to piss you off. You grunt, “Oh, fuck you,” to them. It’s not enough, never nearly enough to expel the rotten part of you. “Fuck you. Fuck off!” You groan at the sky. Nothing happens. Until:

“I’m guessing you’re not having a fun night.”

You whirl around. It’s hard to see in the dark, but whatever light is left catches a long scar on a cheek. Your stomach knots.

“Yeah, me neither,” Luke Castellan says, hands in his pockets as he meanders towards you.

Even when he’s close enough, you don’t say anything. If you do, you’re afraid it’ll be something ugly. Like I kind of want to make out with you. Are you awful too? I need a lobotomy.

The thoughts almost make you laugh. Been a long time since you’ve been funny.

He nods at the sky. “Those things don’t talk. You do know that, right?” He’s still so captivating, so self-assured, even when there’s no one around but you.

“Gods, you’re the worst,” you scoff. You really mean it, so you can’t look him in the eye.

“Then why have you been staring at me all night?”

It catches you so off-guard that you whip back to face him. He has an eyebrow raised and the itch of a smile that makes you burn with shame. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He shrugs, leaning against the cabin wall. “I’m not stupid. You’ve been brooding in the corner watching me the second you came in.” He cocks his head to the side, adding, “Actually, you stare at me all the time. At meals and stuff. I really hope you don’t think you’re being subtle.”

You huff. “Okay, if we’re really being honest here, you started that! You do it too! All the time!”

His hands shot up like he was being arrested. “Hey, I never said I minded it. A guy’s . . . just gotta wonder. What’s up with you spying on me when I’m training alone, anyways?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You watch me when there’s nobody else around. I’m not blind. It’s weird. If you want tips you can just ask me. Or if you like what you’re looking at, at least be upfront about it.”

You speak before you can take in that last sentence, or the way his smile took pride in itself when he said it, or how embarrassed you should probably feel. “You didn’t answer my question about why you started staring at me first.”

The anger (shame) blinding you made you forget how close you are to him right now. Close enough to touch, but not enough to see. But almost there. Almost.

“People think you’re mean,” Luke says after a moment, his dark eyes probing you. The words curl out of his mouth slowly, like he’s choosing them all with care. “You’re rude. You never listen to anyone. You judge everything. They all think you’re awful.” Again, he looks you over. “I’m not so sure.”

“If I’m awful, then you’re awful,” you spit before he can say anything else.

He just shrugs. “Well, I guess that’s why I’m not sure.”

It’s irritating, his calmness. He has the same anger you do. How come he can just . . . shove it down? You try to unearth any fury in his eyes, but it’s too far back. Simmering. “Jesus,” you mutter, “You’re worse than me.”

He looks genuinely taken aback by this. His scar deepens when his brows wrinkle. “What?”

“You’re a pretender—that’s what you are.” It’s your turn now, to step closer, to make his skin crawl. “Look at you. Everyone loves you. You’re this perfect golden boy and you’re sweet and attentive and whatever the fuck but you know it’s one giant lie. At least I’m honest, but you just sit pretty and act like you don’t have that . . . thing that I have. Resentment. Insanity. Whatever you want to call it. We’re the same, but I’m the only one getting shit for it.”

Now, you are close enough to really see him. The patterns on the wood behind him frame the vision of his ever-shifting face. You realize that this, like most things are to Luke Castellan, is a challenge. You also can’t remember the last time you saw him lose one.

But when you play, you play to win.

“You don’t know that,” he dares.

“Oh, I do. You’re rotten, Castellan,” you sneer, index finger jabbed into his chest. You can feel his heartbeat if you concentrate. “And you’re not owning up to it, so you’re also a coward.”

However scathing you look, it isn’t enough. If anything it only makes Luke’s manner more playful. Nothing feels playful anymore. Everything, inside and outside of your mind, feels like constant, exhausting war. Maybe that’s why you don’t slap his hand off you when it wraps around your wrist, keeping it pressed to the middle of his chest. His heartbeat thrums through you.

He tilts his face towards you, grinning, “Then why do you want to kiss me?”

All right. What the fuck. It feels like you’ve been electrocuted.

“What the—what are you talking about?” You blunder, but he knows, of course he knows, because there’s something between the two of you that has been formed and understood by eye contact alone. He can probably read your mind. As much as you don’t want to admit it, you’d like to read his just as much.

He cocks his head. “I mean, you did call me pretty,” he teases, and it’s almost endearing. “You’re pretty like this too.” His other hand comes up to your face, and you’re surprised you don’t flinch when his thumb gently smooths the crease in your eyebrows. “Don’t call me a coward, heathen. Then we’ll both be embarrassed.”

The nickname makes you want to fight, but the touch makes you dizzy. “You don’t want to kiss me, Luke,” you say with all the control you have, which, right now, is increasingly sparse.

“You’ve gotta stop telling people what they want,” he muses. The hand on your wrist traces further down your forearm. The one on your face snakes around your hips. “One of your more disagreeable qualities.”

His words fan over you. That fire simmering in his eyes has finally come to the surface.

“One of?” You challenge.

“You let me make out with you and I’ll give you a whole list.”

You snort, hoping it hides the shortness in your breath. “What a charmer you are.”

His lips brush yours. “Well, that’s what makes me so rotten, isn’t it?”

There’s hardly time to unravel if that’s a question or a statement because you grab a fistful of his shirt and he kisses you. Your heart detonates. It is not rotten in the slightest.

His body is warm and firm. You smell the cabin wood and the drink on his breath. It all matters, and none of it does. You’re warm everywhere as he wraps both arms around your back, and the way he kisses is, unfortunately, exactly how you thought he would. Your hands are tentative in his hair. So is your mouth on his. But Luke is so deliberate in the way he kisses that you know he’s thought about this, too. It makes you all the warmer.

His hand takes your jaw and tilts it up. You know your neck is shaky with breath, and you’re pretty sure he’s admiring it. You don’t complain when he presses a kiss to your jaw, then another one, like he’s testing the waters. “You’re so nice like this,” he mutters almost to himself, thumb running across your neck. “If only people could see you.”

“Then they’d see how mean you are too, no?” You huff. “You don’t want that.”

Another kiss to your jaw. “Not yet, sweetheart.”

Whatever feeling is harbouring in your body right now, it’s so fulfilling it almost makes you uncomfortable. You want to reject it. You’re not supposed to want things. Worse, you’re not supposed to get things. Luke starts marking a path down your neck and you are so determined to enjoy this that you’d kiss a fucking baby if someone asked you to. You might as well be a saint.

He bites the pulse point on your neck, sure to leave a mark, and a shudder rips through you. You’re pretty sure the bastard starts laughing. You hit his shoulder in retaliation.

“Easy, heathen,” he reprimands in your ear, and you know he’s still smiling.

“Don’t—don’t call me that.” You hate that you start to smile, too, and that your stomach burgeons with butterflies when he pulls back to look at you.

He touches the corner of your upturned mouth, kiss-bitten and red. His expression is boyish. “Hard to when it makes your face do that,” he goads. “I thought it was impossible for you to smile.”

“Be quiet.” You thread a hand through his camp necklace and bring him closer. You can almost taste his mouth on yours, but he sweeps past you at the last minute.

He gently tugs your earlobe with his teeth and whispers, “Yes ma’am.”

Fuck him. Seriously. You might have to.

It’s a tangle of teeth and hands and smiles kept hidden, as you slip your fingertips beneath his shirt and he does the same, and you’re both angry and greedy and incredibly destructive, but it doesn’t matter yet. Now you’re just teenagers fooling around at the back of a party, and it’s the first good thing either of you have had in a long time. Luke leaves you gasping whenever his mouth hits certain places, maybe too many places, and he teases you accordingly. “So sensitive,” he taunts, pressing his knee between your legs so he can see you squirm. You rake your nails through his scalp and he tilts his head back to groan. It shuts him up for a while.

He bites your neck until you say his name. You trace lines on his stomach till he takes your hand in his own. You’ve been hungry for something your whole life, and you finally have something to sink your teeth into. For better or for worse.

After Hades knows how long, laughter floats out from the front of the cabin. Sounds of feet tripping over each other and muffled goodbyes. You pull away from Luke, chests heaving together. His hair is wild, his shirt crumpled, and he looks entirely satisfied with it. Smug little shit. “Party’s letting out,” you mutter.

“What a damn shame.” His hand rubs your jaw, and it’s too tender a gesture so you angle your head away to peek over the side of the cabin. You barely pay attention to the kids straggling back to their bunks.

“Is now the time you tell me all my horrible qualities?” You ask once you’re ready to look at him again.

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Actually, I came up with more since I said that so I’m pretty sure it’ll take more than one night.” He fakes a wince, “Might have to spread it out for a few days.”

You roll your eyes, “Oh, you ass.”

“I’ll give you one for starters.” You feel like a tornado when he kisses the juncture between your jaw and your neck. “Your hands are too cold.” They’re tucked underneath his shirt right now, pressed against his back. You don’t move them. “And,” he adds, “you’re incredibly crass.”

“Thanks, dipshit.”

“Thank you for proving my point, heathen.”

The commotion at the front gets louder, and you know your time to go undiscovered runs short. “You meet me again tomorrow, and I start telling you the rest?” He raises his brows.

The prospect both repulses and excites you, although perhaps they’re hand-in-hand. You tentatively reach up to trace the scar on his face. A faint, jagged line that holds scripture within it. His eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Even though I’m rotten?” You ask, and there’s an echo of mischief in your voice, too.

He’s got a strange expression when he looks at you. “That’s not true.”

He leans down, angles his head to kiss you. It’s slow, but bitter, and he bites down on your lip until you’re pretty sure there’s blood. “Luke,” you murmur, and he kisses you softer. You lean into him like a hapless, lovesick fool.

After you part, he loosens his grip on you. The bumbling campers have gotten louder. He stares at you, and you see the chasm in his eyes again, brimming with fire. Same as yours. You know you’ll see him tomorrow.

He says, “You’re not rotten. You’re right.”

And damn it, you really do believe him.

#perrie’s fics #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo x reader #pjo series #pjo tv show #luke castellan smut #pjo #heroes of olympus #charlie bushnell #i like sexy evil people making out okay.#maybe will make a part 2 to this series because i’m just so fascinated by their weird little dynamic but we’ll see #i kind of hate this but WE MOVE ANYWAYS!!

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ncteez · 9 months

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Drippin’ [Dream ‘00 line]

“It's too late to run away, you started this game first.”

It was a joke, you swear. Sharing something like that with your group of horny man-friends was definitely a recipe for disaster. That one little tweet sets off a string of events that prevents you from pretending that you wouldn’t fuck your friends. Because you would, and they know it. or the one where you’re considered a tease with the shit you share privately online, and they’re just about fed up with the way you act innocent and uninterested in what they’re packing. ― this fic is based around this tweet.

ao3 | m.list | leave feedback and reblog to give ‘00 line a boner.

minors do not interact.

WORDCOUNT― 16.2k

PAIRING― ‘00 line x afab reader

CONTENT― birthday sex, orgy (?), comedy, use of a camera

WARNING ― mild dub-con, jaemin kinda fruity, full bladder/squirting ―this fic is not entirely inclusive like my others because it’s written for someone specific. reader can be lifted up by the members, when she blushes it is visible to them but colors still aren’t used to describe it, she has huge tits too. don’t like it, don’t read it.

NOTE― this is my birthday gift to @neopuppy! I hope it scratches somewhere in your brain but I also hope this means you’re aware of how much I love and appreciate you!! I am happy to have met you and i just need you to know that you’re definitely stuck with me at this point ♡ so, happy birthday to jeno’s real life gf!!! he’s a lucky dude fr. ― not proof read tho lmao

smut tags under cut::

smut tags :: pussy eating, eager haechan, neglected renjun, confident jeno, (un)solicited dick pics, huge cock jeno and renjun, recording of sexual acts, masturbation, tongue fucking, dirty talk, finger fucking, overstimulation, tit fondling, actual fucking, (forced) full bladder, squirting, blowjob, handjob, unprotected sex, cum eating, cum stuffing, cum dump reader, bunch of horny guys + one competitive horny guy

Scrolling on twitter is a normal part of your night especially when you’re bored. Your birthday is coming up and there’s not really anything planned. Aside from the spamming of messages from family and friends demanding to know what you want, or what you’d like to do, it feels like it’s just going to be a normal day rather than a celebration of your life.

No plans. You kind of just want to enjoy the day alone, relaxing, watching stupid videos, and maybe going for a coffee.

Unknowing to you though, your future plan is slightly skewed when you run across a specific tweet. You share it as a joke, just like any other thing you’ve shared. Straight into the circle it goes, side eye emoji and all as if to imply something yet again, because you’re good at that apparently. Teasing, as Haechan would call it.

To you, retweeting it with the side-eye emoji directly into the circle is normal and not asking for it to be considered by your friends. As much as you’d love to lie to yourself and believe that they’re down to earth, they’re really really not.

It’s not like you actively want to fuck your friends, but it’s also not like you wouldn’t. With all of the sexuality you all share online, it’s kind of difficult to not think about them inappropriately on some days. There was once a tweet that Jeno shared with absolutely no context involving some manga panel drawing of a man on a leash with his cute, unassuming girl standing in front of him.

You hate to say that sometimes the images they share makes you think pretty hard. Learning their kinks, their sexual interests, and wondering if they’ve ever gotten to actually partake in them before. It’s a strange kind of feeling to think about your friends when these types of images pop up. The feeling is definitely arousal, but it’s kind of like a guilty arousal?

After all, your friends may be constantly sharing their sex lives and blatantly liking all of the porn on twitter that they get off to, but it doesn’t mean they’d want to get you off.

The funniest part about it is that you truly do view the circle tweets far differently compared to your group of friends. You, thinking they share stuff to show off, to be funny, or just to be a typical horny man. Then you have your friends and how they view it.

Some of the tweets are intentionally for you to see, for you to get off to. Some are blatantly shared in the heat of the moment as one of them imagines you performing in the content. It’s a game to them really, to see which one will break you first. They love it for the most part, how you pretend you don’t notice. How you play dumb, even when they’re sharing images and videos of two people that could resemble you and said friend if you squint. It’s been this way for years.

The entire friend group has spoken about you in their own group chat before. They’ve fantasized together about you through text and they’ve even discussed how there’s no way you don’t know what they’re doing. Time and time again you prove them wrong. So fucking aloof even when one of them blatantly makes a suggestion straight to your face.

Jokes can only be funny for so long before it starts to be serious.

To Jeno, it’s flooring to see you just a day after you liked one of his nastiest tweets, knowing you saw it, you probably watched the video too all while parading around like it didn’t get you wet or something. For Renjun, he finds it cute that you’re so different online. He almost feels lucky to be able to see that side of you.

Haechan and Jaemin are the two in the group who will blatantly try to fluster you face to face. You both love and hate it, because sometimes you can’t tell if they’re being serious or not with you. The constant sarcastic and cocky smirks tend to make you lean more towards the fact that they must be joking.

Either way, that tweet is nothing more than a funny joke to you. Since it was referring to a birthday it really is probably a crime to like, not share it. So, you did.

Haechan was the first to read it, instantly screenshotting it and sending it in the secret group chat with a question mark.

Haechan: ??

Haechan: she’s doing it again

Jeno: she’s too dumb to actually follow through with it though

Jaemin: me first :)

Haechan: shut the fuck up jaemin

Renjun: it’s just a meme

Haechan: a meme about eating her out for her birthday

Haechan: that she specifically shared to her circle

Haechan: with. the. eyeball. emoji.

Jeno: he’s got a point.

Renjun: well

Jaemin: it would be rude if she declined a birthday gift too y’know

Haechan: do you guys think she would let us?

Renjun: um

Jeno: at some point she’s gonna have to learn that sharing all of this stuff with us is going to end in her getting fucked.

Haechan: yeah, by me specifically

Jeno: you’d be lucky if she even thought of you when she shared that tweet

Haechan: It's gonna be so funny when you hear her moan my name, you gonna get mad?

Jeno: fuck around and find out.

Jaemin: really though

Jaemin: we should just go for it this time…….

Jaemin: bet she would love it

Renjun: lol…count me in too

The last thing you expected to be waking up to on your birthday was a fucking birthday party.

You wake to the sound of your front door opening, frantic footsteps, and then your bedroom door swinging open. Before you can even scream out of the assumption that it’s a fucking break in, Haechan is quite literally pouncing on you, shoving his face into the crook of your neck with muffled words of “wake up, baby.”

You’re definitely awake.

“How the fuck did you guys get into my house?!” You shout with a raspy, sleep filled voice, trying to focus on the four faces staring back at you and landing a glare at Renjun specifically, standing meekly at your bedroom door.

He shoots an uncharacteristic smirk at you before raising his keys and dangling them at you. Of course you forgot that he had a key. He’s the only person outside of your family who has a key and it was strictly from when he helped you move in. You forgot to get it back from him all those years ago.

“Might want to change your locks.” Haechan laughs against your neck, lying his body weight against you.

“What time is it?” You say, relieved now that your place isn’t being broken into, but still trying to shove Haechan off of you.

He fights to stay in place, grabbing you in a bear hug, holding your arms down at your side, and not letting you go.

“It’s noon.” Jeno calls out from the other side of your room in a nonchalant voice, letting his eyes search around before he opens one of your drawers. “What’s in here?”

You, again, try to shake Haechan from you as you go into panic mode. What kind of joke is this? Fucking room raiders?

“Stop looking through my stuff!” You shout, glaring at Jeno, who definitely goes through your drawers now that he knows you have something to hide.

“Haechan, hold her down,” Jeno laughs, opening another drawer, and then another, before coming to your bedside and looking at you. “What’s in this one?”

Actual panic now.

Before you can even get the words out, Jeno is opening the drawer and letting out a breathy chuckle.

“Guys, look.” He laughs, glancing over at you before pulling one of the toys out. “You get off with this?”

Jaemin comes over, looking into the drawer with two other toys that Jeno hasn’t yet pulled from their place. Renjun continues to watch, or stalk, really.

“Did you wash them?” Jeno asks, waving the dildo in front of your face before bopping you on the nose with it.

“Of course I fucking washed them!” You continue to glare, feeling Haechan squeeze you tighter to prevent you from moving.

“Shame,” Haechan laughs at you, and then he very slowly lightens his grip on you. “Wanted to know what you smell like.” He says in a single breath, looking between you and the dildo, in deep thought. You stare at him before taking advantage of his loosening grip and rolling him off of you in one swift motion.

You ignore the “oomf” sound Haechan makes when his head hits your headboard, and instantly rip the dildo from Jeno’s hands before throwing it back into the drawer and nearly slamming Jaemin’s fingers shut in it.

“What the fuck are you guys doing?” You narrow your eyes as you look at each of them. You feel annoyed, and quite frankly, a little pissed because this is kind of crossing a line you didn’t even know you had.

“It’s your birthday,” Renjun smiles, moving himself from the door and finally coming into your room. “You’re not seriously planning to just, like, stay home all day are you?”

“Yeah, actually. I am.” You grouch, rolling your eyes as you sit up and against your headboard with crossed arms.

“That’s too bad, we’ve got a whole day planned for you.” Jeno says, seating himself next to you and softening his voice. “So get up and go get dressed.”

If it weren’t for the fact that all four men are practically holding you hostage right now, you’d kick them out and enjoy your birthday as you planned it. Why is this year so fucking different? Why are they all over you like this? Poking fun at your toys, Haechan being weird and gross about it?

As you get dressed, they make it incredibly obvious that there’s a shift in the air. You feel like prey, four pairs of eyes struggling to allow you to dress yourself without them in the room. You do eventually get them out though, so you can at least do as they say.

When you open the door for them again, they’re all right there. Jeno, front and fucking center with his dopey smile that seems more menacing today than the usual, soft smile.

You feel cornered in your own home, by the only people you trust, and you hate to say that it’s kind of getting to you in an uncomfortable way. It’s surprising to admit that you kind of like the uncomfortable feeling they’re giving to you right now.

The sheer amount of attention on you is overwhelming, and you wonder when they’ll let you in on this joke.

The second you step into Jeno’s car, then tension dies down a little bit and the excitement rises. You haven’t done anything for your birthday in years so it’s kind of nice to think that your friends would plan something for you, and not being alone in your apartment with them solidified that they’re not about to eat you alive with a side of A1 steak sauce like you originally thought.

As the drive starts and continues, you think about the dynamic between you and your friends. From how you met to how you became the group you are now. You realize that for the past few years, most interactions with them have felt more intense than they used to. Still, you’re a believer that women can be friends with men without the weird sexual tension ruining it.

Until you keep thinking. Piling up all of the sexual jokes and implications they’ve made at you up until this morning.

One time, Jaemin took a photo with you, sent it in the group chat and said “she’s giving out blowjobs for $5 if anyone wants one.” and you’d be lying if you didn’t receive three cash app notifications of five dollars.

Another time Jeno blatantly gave you a popsicle and told you to show him how deep you can take it in your mouth before laughing and shoving the popsicle deeper when you reached your limit. And god, don’t even get started on Haechan, that motherfucker has blatantly adjusted his length in front of you after staring at your chest for an entire conversation.

Renjun is another story. The shy one who does a shit job at hiding that he absolutely has whore thoughts. You see it. That $5 donation for a blowjob didn’t go unnoticed, nor did his approval of you accidentally liking one of the porn videos deep in his retweets.

Still, you prefer to think that you wave off the jokes face to face despite how difficult it’s become to dodge said jokes.

You turn to look at Jeno for a moment, noting his calm face as he drives, then you turn slightly to see the three in the back seat on their phones. Jeno’s phone is buzzing at lightning speed, and the boys in the back are typing miles per minute.

You narrow your eyes.

“What are you guys planning?”

Jeno flashes a smile at you.

“It’s a surprise, don’t try and ruin it for yourself.” He smiles wider at the implication that you really do always ruin this type of thing by pretending you don’t want it. That you don’t want him.

You continue to glare at them, one at a time, and each of them just beams at you before you cross your arms and slump yourself back against the seat.

“Better not be anything weird.” You grumble.

“Define weird.” Jeno comments before moving his hand from the steering wheel and lying it against your leg. When you stiffen up against him, he rubs a gentle circle against the flesh of your thigh before continuing. “Relax, we already know you’re a freak.”

You whip your head around at the laughter, feeling flustered at how they’re not keeping the circle in the circle. Except, they are. It’s just being voiced now, and your leg is being caressed at the same damn time.

“My favorite was when she shared that video of the girl getting her head pulled back by the hair, and dude spit in her face,” Jaemin says with a shrug, eyes still glued to his phone. “Went straight to the bookmarks.”

You can feel the heat rise in your cheeks, and when you go to protest, Haechan jumps in.

“What about the video where the girl took it in every hole? She even had a dildo because apparently she just wasn’t full enough.” He ticks his tongue when he says it, examining the way you shift in your seat.

“Oh god, I remember that one. I didn’t think you’d be into that–” Renjun laughs, leaning forward between the front and passenger seat. “But you are into that, aren’t you?” He lowers his voice when he asks you.

You shift again, and note only slightly the way Jeno also shifts similar to the way you do at those words.

“It’s just a video–” You try to defend, but Jeno speaks up and cuts you off.

“Did you get off to it?” He asks blatantly, turning the car onto a wide street and seemingly keeping his eyes on the road.

There’s nothing but silence in the car and all four of them wait for your answer, but it never comes.

“So you did.” Renjun chuckles, leaning himself back to the seat and unlocking his phone again.

You’re kind of at a loss for words at this moment as you stare directly out of your window and try to avoid continuing the conversation. You hate the way your body is reacting to the way they’re talking to you. Of course you got off to the video. Of course you’re into that. It just looks bad when you’re sitting in a car full of men with cocks that seemingly want to talk about how much you’re into it.

Implications.

And god, the implication gets worse when you realize where Jeno has been driving this whole time. You can’t even protest either.

“Let’s get our girl some better toys to have fun with.” Jeno comments as he stops the car in the parking lot, turning to look at you and then at his friends as if this is the most normal birthday outing in the world.

“Your girl?” You ask, side eyeing Jeno and then turning your entire body to look at the other three men in the car.

Suddenly, it feels like an intro to some porn video. Where the poor lonely woman is being eaten alive with eyes in a public space before it pans to her quite literally drowning in a bukakke scene.

“Just for today, relax.” Jaemin smiles his stupid smile, shoving Haechan at the door of the car as if to force him to open it, and he does. “Besides, the toys you had seemed boring.” He laughs again, before sliding out of the car as well.

So, here you are now, walking into an adult store with four very attractive men, unsure as to why you’re even agreeing to let them bring you here. You don’t know what to do with yourself seeing as you’ve only ever bought toys online.

Jeno is the first to drag you away with him as the others disperse around the store. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel awkward, or like today isn’t entirely charged by sexual energy. Unfortunately, Jeno amplifies it with a casual voice and a slouched, relaxed posture as he snakes an arm around your waist and lifts your chin with his thumb so that you look directly at what he’s looking at.

He barely lets you react to the way he’s being somewhat intimate with you, ushering any protest you could possibly have into a little insecure space in your brain. One that tells you that, based on how he’s acting, he would probably call you stupid if you said he was acting weird.

Jeno knows damn well though, that he’s touching you right now more than he ever has. Brief hugs and brushes of the body are normal and expected, but this? This is intentionally not normal. He knows you’re picking up on the differences, and actively chooses to let you stew over it. He can see the confusion in your eyes and plays it off as if, yeah, this is normal and you’d make it weird if you decided to say it’s not. You’d be the one making it awkward, not him.

“How do you feel about that?” He asks, eyes staring straight at an item hanging on the wall and pretending he doesn’t feel the way you let him touch you in the way a boyfriend should.

“What? The vibrating panties?” You ask, looking at the item directly next to it.

“Oh,” He chuckles at you, releasing your chin and pulling down the product with ease. “You’re looking at these?” He adds, keeping his other arm around your waist and pulling you right up against his side as he flips the box over and reads it.

“Eight settings. Three pairs of panties are included–” He nods with a pleased face. “What are you looking at these for?”

You looked at them because it’s what you thought he was looking at too.

“You gonna wear them to work? Staying wet all day in them?” He smiles, saying these words as if it’s not sexual at all. “I bet you’d wear them in front of me too. Wouldn’t even tell me how you’re getting off, would you?”

He loves the way you react when you’re flustered, looking away from him but not quite denying it or pulling from his grasp.

“Dirty. I’ll buy them for you. ” He says, keeping hold of the box and reaching for the actual item he was originally looking at. “What about this?”

You feel like your body is on fire with this one sided conversation. Honestly, your mind is still thinking about what would happen if you wore these panties to work. What would happen if you did wear them when hanging out with him? Surely he’d know, it’s not like you’re capable of hiding your pleasure.

Still, you try to remain calm. Rubbing your legs together briefly, you stare at the way he tangles a leash in his fingers all while still holding the box with the vibrating panties. His hands are big, and his fingers are long. The material of the leash appears to be flimsy but the collar he grabs just next to it appears to be much stiffer.

“A leash?” You ask, still not making eye contact but keeping your eyes on his hand and the way he holds all three items with ease.

“And a collar.” He adds, encouraging you to think about both items together, being used with him.

“What am I supposed to do with that?”

Jeno smirks, knowing damn well you know what he’s into.

“You know exactly what you’re supposed to do with it.” He teases you, keeping hold of the toys and letting his eyes devour the way you buckle under every implication. He tunes in to the way your legs rub together, right here in front of him. God, you’re so cute with the way even the slightest implication seems to have you suffering.

In your head, you do know what to do with these items for him, but the confirmation of Jeno’s words have reality hitting you like a bag of bricks. Is he really implying that these toys are to be used with him?

And just as you try to mutter up a response, you can feel your arm being tugged at.

“Stop hogging her, dick.” Jaemin seethes through his teeth and narrowed eyes at Jeno, prying you away from him.

You look back at Jeno and his confident glare at you as you’re being pulled away. He seems slightly annoyed with Jaemin for taking you away just as the conversation was getting good but, overall proud of himself for making you think too hard. You practically see the confirmation in his hooded eyes when they trail down your body as you’re being pulled around the corner, up until he’s out of your view and you are forced to look at whatever the fuck Jaemin is trying to show you.

“Look at this.” Jaemin says in a much sweeter voice to you, grabbing a box and presenting it to you. “There’s a sample thing too, hold on–” He continues, reaching up and grabbing the presumed sample that states “FINGERS ONLY.”

“Go on, try it.” He smiles, eyes staring straight at your hands.

“You want me to test out a uh–”

“Pocket pussy.” He finishes for you, nodding his head and encouraging you to do it.

Reluctantly you do, sliding your fingers into the silicone hole. Weirdly enough, you’ve always wondered what the inside of a pocket pussy felt like and well, it’s about what you expected.

Jaemin’s intense eye contact on watching your fingers slide into that toy did not go unnoticed though. You can see the way they darken at the act in an instant. A once bright looking pervert now matching the word far too much to be comfortable doing this in front of him. If only you knew how he was imagining that this is how you touch yourself. Reluctantly at first and then sliding your fingers in deeper to feel everything it offers.

“Well?” He asks, feeling his length twitch in his pants at the image. Wondering how much prettier your fingers would look glistening in the arousal that would spill out of you while doing this. “Do you think yours feels better?”

“Wha–” You go to ask, pulling your fingers from the sample and shoving it back into his hands.

“You heard me,” He laughs as he drops the sample onto the floor and quickly picks it up before tossing it back onto the wrong shelf like an asshole. “Compare it. Give me something to work with here.”

You dead-pan stare at him, processing the fact that he’s literally asking you what your pussy feels like.

“It’s, um–” You stop yourself again, not avoiding Jaemin’s eye contact this time as his smile fades into something a bit more serious.

“Not as warm, right?” He asks, “not as wet?”

Then he leans in to the point that you feel his breath below your ear, blowing gently as he continues his string of questions.

“Not as tight–” He pulls back to look at you. “Hm?”

It’s insane how fast your little friend group seems to have switched on you. When you compare yesterday to today, the last thing you could imagine was Jaemin saying such a thing against your skin before pulling back, and looking at you with a face that seems to expect a genuine answer to his dirty questions.

You’ve never felt so….shy before yet, into it entirely. You just don’t know how to process it all happening at once, with multiple people. Jeno, now Jaemin?

You stare forward at him, cheeks warming up beyond belief as your fingers tingle from the recent silicone hole they fucked into. You think hard for a moment about all of the times you’ve plunged your fingers into yourself, comparing the feeling to the toy. You almost want to tell him that you’re definitely warmer, you’d definitely be wetter, and perhaps even tighter than that toy could ever offer him.

And just as you were about to become the pick me girl of his dreams, an angel wearing a dick-head costume (Haechan), appears much like Jaemin did before. He prevents you from furthering the conversation, but he does little to nothing to help the warmth you’re feeling between your legs.

“Stop being a freak,” Haechan stares at Jaemin, having heard the entire conversation and definitely liking where it was going, but also not wanting Jaemin to be the one to get you to break. “Come on, I have something a lot less weird to show you.”

Haechan drags you across the entire store before you can even protest, nearing the entrance. You almost want to get on your knees and thank him, assuming he’s walking you straight out the doors to safety before you realize he’s definitely not.

“Lace or latex?” He asks, grabbing two skimpy outfits he presumably placed on the end of a rack for easy finding when he wanted to show you.

“Lace.” You say without issue, still reeling from all of the other questions you’ve been asked within the past twenty minutes. Plus, clothing is much easier to discuss compared to things that fuck your friends, and things that fuck you.

“Hm,” He stares down the lace outfit on the hanger, knowing for a fact that your tits would look fucking immaculate in it. Surely they’d be bulging out of the top, plush and bouncing with each movement. “If we got this for you, would you actually wear it?”

At this point, the feeling in your gut may or may not be matching the energy they’re giving you. There’s a hint of flirtiness coming to your mind now as you think of how to respond. You’ve flirted with them plenty, so it comes easy this time when you manage to actually answer him.

“I guess,” You start, noting how his eyes light up. “I don’t see why not, because I do like lace.”

“Would you wear it for me though?” He corrects his question, proud of the way you look a bit confident now, not at all as flustered as you seemed when Jaemin had you back there finger fucking a sample toy.

“In front of you?” You ask, staring down the outfit and reaching out to feel the soft texture of the lace, trying to ignore the hefty price on the tag.

“Yeah? I expect to be the one to take it off of you.”

There goes your confidence. He’s so forward and you’re not sure if you can ever get used to such jarring comments toward you by the people you seem to be the closest to. They could talk to you like this all fucking day, and while you’d like it, your first instinct is to buckle, to hide.

“So quiet now. Why? Because I want to see you in this?” He smirks, rubbing his fingers in circles against the lace before hardening his expression.

“You can pretend that this isn’t happening all you want,” He narrows his eyes at you and the way you avoid his eye contact, taking a step forward and brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “But I think you’ve gotten your fair share of teasing me online. I think it’s time you finally give it up.” He finishes his train of thought with a frustrated whisper when you pull away from him slightly.

It’s a lot of information to take in all at once. Jeno implying things, Jaemin asking about what’s between your legs, and now Haechan stating that he wants to see you in lace before sliding it off of you. It’s not entirely insane to be drawn in and then push yourself back. Really, it’s not. You can’t just let them in on the fact that you’re into it though. All of this, you’re so fucking into it.

“You thought I was teasing you?” You ask, finally making eye contact as you look him up and down, taking another step back. “Haechan, it’s just porn. None of it was because of you.”

He tics his tongue at your words, smirking and shaking his head.

“You’re going to stand there and pretend like you don’t think about it?” He tilts his head knowingly before shaking the lace outfit in front of you. “If we leave here today with this, you’re going to wear it for me.” he continues with a cheeky voice, “and i’ll make you feel so good when I take it off of you.”

And for some reason, you find yourself turning away from him and walking away. You can hear him mutter something at you as you create a bigger distance, and can’t help the smile on your face. Your cheeks are tingling, your body is tingling and there’s a type of confirmation happening right now, that all of those thoughts you’ve had about them before aren’t entirely one sided.

You find yourself in search of Renjun, the only normal motherfucker in this group. He hasn’t hunted you down within the aisles of toys, sex movies, or lube. He hasn’t pulled you away as if he’s a savior before forcing you to realize you fell into the grasp of another hunter. No, he’s normal. And he fills that role so well too, as you find him near the back of the store standing alone, looking at the most mundane and boring sex toys in the world. Dildos, just like what he saw being pulled out of your drawer this morning.

“Do you think this one is a good size?” He asks you offhandedly as you stand next to him with a sigh of relief. Almost like he could sense it was you without even checking for himself.

“Yeah, it’s a little big but–” You go to say, comfortably and confidently because he’s not being a weirdo.

“Have you ever taken something this big before?” He looks at you, glancing down to your thighs before smiling.

“Um, well-” You start, but he interrupts you again.

“It’s the same size as mine, you know.”

Anyway, fuck Renjun.

He’s just like the rest of them, except apparently he doesn’t hunt. He prefers to be hunted himself, he prefers you come to him. A wolf in sheep's clothing, perhaps.

The sexual innuendos and jokes are a bit overwhelming considering you’ve never been fucking attacked with them before. You really can’t lie to yourself though. As much as you pretend to be unnerved, you love the attention they’re giving you. Years worth of sexual things shared online seems to be making today feel like it was going to happen now or never. All of those stray thoughts you’ve had about each of them as you watched their shared porn and read their dirty words? They’re in the front of your mind right now.

Perhaps staying home all day today was a bad idea, because you find yourself genuinely enjoying the overwhelming tension in the air. You’re quite literally in a sex shop surrounded by friends who are implying they want sex from you.

Even if it’s all just a prank-birthday thing. You know, like how friends get each other dildos and sex merchandise for a laugh. You can’t help but stare down the bulk of items all four of them begin to pile onto the counter.

The vibrating panties, leashes, collars, lingerie, dildos, more vibrators, and lube. Not a single condom in sight, not a single pocket pussy either, implying that it can't be purchased because, well, you very well may be the pocket pussy.

The price goes from fifty dollars to a sum of over six hundred, and none other than Jeno himself pulls out his wallet and slides his card into the machine. Signing his name on the device smoothly, almost prettily, before watching the cashier bag each item carefully and curiously.

You hate to say how attractive it is to see Jeno pay for things specifically meant to be used behind a locked door. He’s paid for your coffee plenty of times, but the act right now is seriously just so…..cocky? With the way his posture is perfect, his confidence is exuding when he presses the buttons, god. Is it the money or is it him doing this to your mind?

You can’t make eye contact with the woman bagging your gifts, and for some reason find yourself reluctantly making that eye contact with Jeno instead. He gives you that droopy eyed smile, the one he usually gives on a normal, non-sex-fueled day to something endearing you said. Like he didn’t just drop hundreds on things to fuck yourself with, or wear while being fucked. He can tell you’re thanking him though, appreciating him.

After leaving the store, four big bags being carried by four men, you realize that it’s really not a joke this time. There’s a clock in your head counting down to where Jeno will drive all of you to next.

“Why’re you being so quiet?” Haechan pokes you from the back seat, pulling some of your hair and forcing your head back against the headrest.

“What the fuck?” You ask in a panic, turning your entire body to look behind you at him. You can tell he can see the way that little tug had you release a hint of a moan before you started asking him the question so aggressively. “I’m just enjoying the drive, what? I can’t have a moment of silence to myself?”

You ignore the chuckle coming from Jeno, driving smoothly and keeping his eyes on the road. Then you glance at Jaemin, who is looking at you much the same way Haechan is.

“Are you not enjoying yourself?” Renjun asks, leaning up to the center console again. “You’ve been acting kind of weird all day.”

“I’ve been acting weird?!” You huff. The audacity he has to say that you’re the one being weird.

“You’re just trying to pretend that we don’t want to fuck you like always.” Haechan blurts out while rolling his eyes before Jaemin elbows him in the side.

You stare at them wide eyed as Renjun slowly leans himself back defensively, as far into the seat as possible.

“Relax, you act like you weren’t picking up on the hints,” Jeno glances at you as he pulls into another lot. “Secrets out now though.” He shrugs, searching for a parking space.

“We weren’t even trying to make it a secret, damn.” Haechan rolls his eyes again. “She just likes to play dumb.”

“Or maybe she’s actually dumb.” Jaemin plays off of Haechan’s words.

“Were you guys not planning on letting me have any say in this?!” You ask, voice raised a bit from feeling incredibly flustered.

“What, you don’t want to?” Jaemin asks, narrowing his eyes at you and trying to search for a hint of a lie when you answer.

“I–” You stop yourself.

Any normal person would say no, right? Or would a normal person absolutely be down for this? Are you even a normal person?

“Hm?” Jeno encourages you to finish what you were about to say as he parks and turns off the car. “You don’t want it?” He continues, glancing down and between his legs as if to imply he’s talking more about himself than the group.

Your eyes follow his and you struggle to swallow around the lump in your throat, averting your eyes to the building that this parking lot belongs to. The fucking mall?

“I don’t know what you guys are wanting me to say but, this is all a bit too much.”

The three in the back nod happily at your half-assed rejection, messy hair waving with each nod, and then you look at Jeno as he responds.

“With all things considered, we know you like it when things are ‘a bit too much’.” He says to you, shutting down any form of rejection you could possibly give.

You stare at him as he unbuckles and opens the door to get out of the car. Your body is tingling just a little bit at his words. Goddamn that fucking tweet. Goddamn those fucking twitter circles. Goddamn you for having a bunch of horny burn out friends who suddenly feel the need to jump at the opportunity to fuck you that you would have given ages ago had they tried.

“Always acting like you don’t want it, it’s kind of cute, you know?” Haechan says, pulling himself out of the car now. Jaemin continues his string of thoughts as he gets out of the car after him, “and fucking annoying.”

There goes any ounce of self respect you could imagine having. Your brain is flooding with everything they said to you in the sex shop and, well, you’re well aware that it’s about to be a birthday to remember.

Walking through the mall with your friends should be normal, and it is. But the air is different now, knowing now a hint of the plans they seem to have for your birthday. If they hadn't said all of that in the car, surely you’d know now what the plan was.

You’re sitting in front of Jeno with your drink, Renjun beside him, Jaemin beside you. Haechan ran off to the bathroom and was in there for a while. You’d make a joke, honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that your phone buzzes and the notification states it’s from him.

Jaemin silently and curiously watches you open it from the side.

Silence. Unnerving silence from the entire food court as you glance at your screen for a split second before slamming your phone face down on the table and refusing to look at any of them.

You feel seen, and you know for a fact that Haechan is probably laughing his ass off in that fucking bathroom stall with the way you leave that image on read.

“You’re blushing–” Jeno says, watching the way your eyes shift and you suck down your drink like there’s no tomorrow. “Why?”

You pretend you don’t hear him before Jaemin laughs.

“Haechan showed her his dick,” He smiles, leaning down onto the table and scooting close to you. “I think you liked it.”

“I barely saw it!” You defend in a tone louder than expected, continuously sipping your drink until it’s nearly empty.

You can’t bear to make eye contact with any of them right now, not after seeing a raging cock like the one Haechan is sporting. He’s a menace, truly, and it’s not that you wouldn’t have wanted to see it or anything but like maybe sending it to you in such a public space was a dick move on his part.

Sensing the eyes of three men on you right now, judging to see what you really think of Haechan’s junk, you refuse to look up from the table.

Jeno definitely takes advantage of your blind spots. Wanting so badly to see those cheeks blush the same way they’re doing for Haechan. If anything, for his own ego boost. He wants you to break for him, not for that slut Haechan who is obvious in his attempts to make you want him the most.

Your phone buzzes again.

“Go on,” Jeno smiles. “Open it.” He encourages you, noting the way you still won’t look up at them. Loving how you’re somehow both entirely shameless and entirely cautious about this situation.

You realize only now that these men are taking advantage of every single situation.

Of course you didn’t notice Jeno skewing his phone down and under the table. How could you notice? You’re still trying to comprehend the fact that Haechan is in a bathroom right now raging hard and proud of it.

You don’t even know why you listen to him, opening the text from none other than Jeno himself and seeing a photo of his hand gripping himself. You can see the outline of his length and the way his fingers grip against the sheer size of it. Right fucking here, under this very table. You can see your shoes at the corner of the photo briefly as you stare at the photo a bit longer than you truly meant to. Kind of wishing he had just sent you a raw photo of it.

Now he can fucking see you imagine what’s under these pants. The lump he’s gripping only offers so much to your imagination and it leaves you wanting more. He knows it’s doing something for you with the way you stare at it, eyes no longer darting over the screen of your phone but pointed at one specific place.

Your eyes shift up to him on instinct now.

Buzz.

You whip your head over to Renjun when you see his name pop up on your screen. He does not look at you nor your reaction to the text but is smirking devilishly just like the rest of them.

You’re a little thankful that his photo must’ve been a picture he took on some other day. You feel relief that at least he’s maybe not entirely hard like Jeno and Haechan are right now. (He is.)

“You guys are pussies,” Jaemin comments, shaming his friends for simply sending photos when you’re right here, looking all shy and reserved as if you haven’t been rubbing your legs together all day. “Come here.” He says quickly and quietly, grabbing your hand as if it’s to warm it up before blatantly pressing it between his legs and flexing his length under your palm.

He’s hard. Like, incredibly hard and it takes everything in you not to grab it.

Then you hear him chuckle, looking at you and the way you haven’t even removed your hand from him yet.

“So shameless,” Jeno side-eyes, annoyed. “We’re in public, at least act like you’re not enjoying this right now.”

You’re quick to retract your hand, feeling Jaemin’s hips shift up and against it until he can no longer chase the feeling of your fingers.

There, you’re left feeling a mess. The worst part is that they’re not even alone in being turned on right now in the middle of a food court. You regret wearing these shorts, the arousal is easily seeping through your panties and offering a very, very, uncomfortable sensation against you. Each shift of your legs feels like a jolt of pleasure and also a raw and rashed feeling of the denim being too harsh against an extremely sensitive area on your body.

Many times over the years, you’ve thought of each of these men at least once or twice. With all that porn they share on twitter, it really really is hard not to. Never did you expect them all to act this way toward you while together though. It was always a one on one thing in your head, but now? You’ve seen Haechan and Renjun’s cocks, you’ve gotten an idea of how big Jeno’s is, and you’ve blatantly felt Jaemin’s.

The body tingles are worse now. There’s a burning in your stomach, and it travels straight between your legs. The arousal is there, but a release isn’t. At least not yet.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” You jump up.

Not only is this bathroom break there for like, actual bathroom purposes seeing as how you’ve had a coffee, an entire bottle of water, and now that tasty tea that you just downed within the span of three seconds, but, also because you need to breathe. You need to gather your thoughts desperately, and maybe get a better look at those photos.

“No,” Jeno laughs, standing up after you. “You’re just trying to avoid it.” He looms over you as he stands, looking down at you with a smirk. “You don’t need to use the bathroom.”

“No, I actually do need to. I just drank that entire tea in less than five minutes thanks to you guys.”

“That’s too bad,” He says in a mocking tone. “We have places to be.”

And you just look at him, seeing Haechan appear in your peripheral vision as he talks in an animated way with Jaemin and Renjun.

Store after store, you can feel the atmosphere become heavier and heavier between you and your group of friends. They’re entirely shameless in how they’re interacting with you and at this point, you can barely remember how the dynamic used to be.

There used to be flirting, but it was all based on a joke. At least that’s what you thought back then. Now, after seeing specific parts of them as they were sitting right in front of and next to you, save for Haechan, all of this flirting seems more like fucking foreplay.

It feels like torture, watching Jeno spend and spend his money on anything you so much as glance at. Haechan’s hands constantly stay on you in some way. Jaemin? Fucking Jaemin, cornering you alone every chance he gets, whispering things, pressing his dick against your ass when he’s behind you, asking you to touch him again.

You feel like you’re going insane with the amount of nervous arousal shaking within you. Your body loves it, your mind loves it. Every suggestion bursts vividly in your head, to the point that you very nearly feel like all of this could be a dream.

Then, the very not normal Renjun shocks you when he tries to lace his fingers in yours as you walk. You did find comfort with his warm hands in yours, despite having a photo of his hard cock sitting in a text message. It was kind of grounding, maybe? Reminding you that this isn’t a dream at all. All four of your friends are trying to fuck you.

Renjun kept fiddling with your fingers as you walked which, arguably, is a bit detrimental seeing as how you’re just a group of five people wandering around a mall with a desperate need to like, fuck something.

Safe to say you’re the one who may have shocked him. Thinking too hard about the way his fingers move and play against you. You focus on his birthmark, the way it contrasts with his skin tone and appears to be more like a bruise than anything else. The way his veins pulse languidly when he squeezes your fingers in his, you wonder if he moves his hands the same way when he’s using them for pleasure.

Renjun looks down at your fingers intertwined through the silence, loving the way you allow him to do this. He knows it’s not forward like everyone else even if he’s chasing the same thing. He likes to study the way you react, testing his own methods and noting how he’s somehow got you not even watching where you’re walking because you’re too busy staring at his fingers laced with yours.

“What’re you thinking about?” He whispers right up against you as you walk behind the others, shifting his eyes to check and see that they’re not paying attention to this little moment.

When you look back up at him, your attraction burns in your eyes and he sees that shit instantly.

“About my fingers?” He smirks.

You look away and relax your hand in his, as if to remove it from his grasp, but he takes this opportunity to show you the strength he has in his hands alone, squeezing tighter.

“You were imagining what they could do to you, weren’t you?” He says it so proudly, like he could possibly be the first of the four to get you to actually incriminate yourself in wanting him just as badly as he wants you.

“And if I was?” You glare before glancing down again. “What then?”

“We could slip away right now, into that bathroom over there and I could show you–”

Bathroom.

You still need to go to the bathroom, but the arousal of fucking everything right now is taking high priority when it comes to how your body feels. The burn is…interesting when you think about it. You feel heavy between your legs, entirely turned on, and honestly, if he hadn't said that word you likely would have continued to pretend you don’t need to go.

“Speaking of,” You announce so that the three walking in front turn to listen. “Bathroom break?”

Jeno doesn’t stop walking, shaking his head.

“No, this is the last stop and the bathroom is like, across the mall.” He offers a genuine excuse, causing you to huff and completely miss the way he smirks at the small win.

“There was a bathroom just back there.” You protest, halting where you are before turning to look at the door.

“Employees only.” Jeno continues, now turning himself around and walking backwards. “What? Gonna throw a tantrum? Just hold it, stop whining.”

You huff again, looking at Renjun and rolling your eyes.

“Was that for me, or do you actually need to go?” He asks as you try to speed up and walk with Jaemin instead.

“I actually need to go, but I guess I’ll just deal for now.” Another eye roll.

Damn, rejected. Still, you admitted to possibly thinking about what his fingers could do for you, and that’s a win in his book.

There’s a specific type of effort in the way you pretend you don’t care for what’s going on. You know they don’t believe your act, and they know you know. It feels like a game, and at some point all games come to an end.

The car ride back to your apartment felt like hell. Your body is far more aroused with the need to be filled compared to the need to be emptied. Thoughts of going to the bathroom are so far out of your mind with the way the silence in the car feels heavy and sex fueled.

Every sound feels like it’s implied to be sexual. Haechan stretched for a moment and every single head turned to him for the sound he made. On any other day, that’s just a stretch. Today though, that’s probably what he would sound like if he were plunging into you.

Jeno’s hand remains on your leg in a somewhat possessive way. Rubbing his thumb in circles and moving that touch higher and higher as he drives. The warmth you feel under his fingertips are forcing images to bleed into your mind. You wonder if he wants to move them higher, if he wants to tuck his fingers under the fabric and feel around the skin that’s not shown. You wonder if these simple touches would feel just as warm caressing other places on your body. Slipping under your shirt or down your shorts. Running through your hair, holding your chin up to look at him–

You’re thankful they can’t read minds. You’d blow your whole cover at this moment, as you finally let your mind truly think about what’s happened today, and what will likely happen soon. If you were in your right mind, you think you would be able to understand where all of this is coming from. It truly was sudden with the way they’re acting, but it’s a natural instinct for you to not care why it’s happening, and only care about the fact that it should happen.

There’s no telling what will take place when you get back into your apartment. You can picture it so clearly but then again, you also can’t. There’s so many things you can do with four men at the same time but, the issue is that you want to do all of the things.

“So, you want us all to eat you out.” Jaemin deadpans through the silence. What he says should be a question, but it comes out more like a statement.

In all fairness, he’s so hard that being quiet right now? Waiting like he has been all day? It’s too much. He needs to talk about it.

Only now do you tear your eyes away from Jeno’s hand on your leg.

“What?” You ask, searching your brain for any sober thought that would indicate you ever invited them to do such a thing with your own words.

“You said you want us to eat you out on your couch.” He dead pans, sucking in a breath and adjusting himself in the seat to offer his length optimal comfort.

“No? I didn’t?”

“Bullshit!” Haechan argues, already pulling up the receipts on his phone and leaning forward to put it directly in your line of sight. “Eyeball emoji and all.”

You stare at the tweet you shared with the implications it gave to your friends. Now, you’re in a car with said friends, on your birthday, after an entire day of sex fueled conversations and acts.

It definitely was an implication at its finest but it’s not like you knew this would come out of it. This specific tweet seems to have been the final straw for them and you can’t help but feel fucking proud of it.

“Technically, I didn’t say that.” You still try to keep the energy you’ve had all day, but Jeno’s hand offers you a squeeze against your thigh and instantly you’re turning your head to look at him.

“But you do want it,” Jeno says, pulling into the lot of your apartment building. “And we’re going to give it to you.”

You stare at him much like you have tried to avoid all day.

“But–”

“Stop.” He warns, cutting you off from any argument you try to form. “You want it.” He repeats again, this time letting his eyes scan you for a moment.

He’s not wrong. If anything, you want it more now than you did three seconds ago based on that tone of voice alone. That cold, scolding, deep voice that would make you agree to anything he says anyway.

You don’t even turn to look at the nods of approval as Jeno shuts you down. Instead, you wait for him to park.

First things first, bathroom. Except that’s not anyone else’s priority. You wouldn’t be able to go even if you started running for the door.

Why? Because the way Jaemin closes in on you before the front door is even closed. Shamefully, his eagerness does manage to push that need for a release into the back of your mind for just a little longer.

After a full day of fantasizing, wanting, and needing, Jaemin made damn sure he was the first. Kicking his shoes off and helping you to get yours off before blatantly ignoring his friends and swooping you up in his arms.

You briefly glance back at the others, offering a pleading look of “save me please” but, there is no saving to be had here. All three of them have a dark look in their eyes, leaving the bags of gifts bought for you right there at the door as they watch Jaemin give in to his fantasy first.

That, he does. There is no room to protest, to play games, or pretend like you’d push him away. Because you won’t, and he fucking knows it.

He carries you to the couch with such ease, tossing you down onto it and adjusting you before you can do it yourself.

You can’t look away from him. For a moment it feels like this instance with him is entirely hidden. Like there aren't three other guys watching the way he pushes you back against the couch, falls to his knees, and spreads your legs with a strong grip.

“Oh fuck,” He comments to himself, noting the way you smell from the day of their hard work on arousing you. He stares directly between your legs and loves the way your shorts have ridden up to the point it must have been uncomfortable. “Look at you.”

You can’t bear to admit the blatant truth of what he’s seeing. These shorts have been dampened over and over again today. You’d be shocked if they were dry. You can imagine how pathetic you look right now too, pussy nearly on display already while still being fully covered.

On instinct you shoot your arms up to cover your face as if to avoid this embarrassment. The confirmation of wanting this all day, just like them, is shameful. Even as Jaemin unbuttons your shorts and starts to tug at them, you can’t help the way you feel like you’re spiraling.

You want this so badly, and now Jaemin has the dirty, messy, wet proof.

“So shy,” You hear from behind you, now feeling another pair of hands pull your arms from your face and hold them at your side, as he dips down to your neck from behind the couch. “You tried to hide it but,” He continues, blowing softly at the spot at the dip of your neck. “You were squeezing those legs together all day wanting someone between them, weren’t you?”

Goddamn Jeno for being a talker. Fuck Jeno for having these strong hands and holding you down for Jaemin to toy around between your legs. Curse that man for having such a sensual voice as he talks to you, dumbing you down to the point that all you can do is fucking agree with him.

Jaemin listens intently to the way Jeno talks to you as he continues to bask in the scent. Your shorts are now crumpled to the floor and your blatant arousal was evident in all forms of the word. Your panties leave nothing to the imagination, soaked to the point of not being able to hold any more of that dripping heat. They rode up much like your shorts did, exposing both lips and folds to envelope the fabric tightly as if you were intending to gain some sort of friction from them throughout the day. He thinks that you were, quite literally, fucking yourself against these flimsy panties for the majority of the time you spent with them, pretending that they weren’t rubbing against your clit the entire time.

He hums from between your legs, digging his fingers into the flesh of your thighs to spread your legs out more. Haechan comes over now, wanting to see what it is that has Jaemin entirely speechless and holy fuck, anyone would be.

Your folds are glistening in wet, unsticking and settling around your tightly stretched panties in a different way now. Haechan makes no attempt to pretend it’s not a beautiful sight.

He’s the first to moan at the image of how pathetically horny you got for them. All while trying to hide it, parading around all fucking day with your panties hugging that clit in a way you wished he was– for sure. Him. You want him the most, and he’s going to fucking give it to you.

“Aww,” Haechan coos, his eyes scanning you entirely. “You really do want me to eat it, don’t you?”

The heat that runs down your body at those words is more telling than the small sigh that forces itself out of your throat. Your entire body jerks at the feeling of goosebumps reacting to his words, and for some reason, you shoot your eyes to Renjun as if seeing him right now will calm your embarrassment. It doesn’t though. Renjun is looming near the entry of your living room, staring blankly at what’s been revealed with the heavy length in his pants twitching and making itself known to you. He appears to be waiting for your response.

You don’t respond. How could you? There are no words in your head right now. Not with all of the sensations you’re feeling, not with all of the eyes on you. You try to offer a nod, feeling pathetic, but your hips answer for him.

Haechan watches the way they buck up at his words and instantly he’s shoving Jaemin over with a confident chuckle, slotting himself between your legs alongside him. He shows no shame in the way he hooks his fingers under the panties, digging in deep just to get a hold of them. You can feel his knuckle bump your hole and you clench at the feeling. Then, as if he’s making a show of it, he groans as he stretches your panties out of your folds and away from your body.

“Damn,” Haechan says nearly in unison with Jaemin, both entirely too eager to be in a shared space between your legs right now. They barely even acknowledge the other, but there is a silent form of encouragement between the two.

Never did you think you’d find your eyes glued to the way Haechan slips the panties off of you, or the way Jaemin pockets them instantly. Like they’re working together, even if not on the same team.

You breathe in audibly at the air that hits you. It’s cold, sending a shiver down your entire body. Jeno feels those goosebumps under his hold on you, his cock twitching wildly in his pants at seeing how you’re just letting this happen.

“So, so, dirty,” He starts in a whisper against your neck, so silent that it almost feels like he doesn’t want the others to hear. “I knew you’d get off to this.”

You release the smallest of groans and you can’t tell if it’s because he’s calling you out or if it’s because someone down there just slid their fingers up your slit.

Holy fuck, whose fingers are down there doing this right now?

Haechan is beaming up at you, giving himself the title of public enemy number one because he definitely centered himself between your legs and shoved Jaemin out of the way entirely. He wants to be the first one to taste you, and he fucking means it.

He shows no shame in how desperate he is, which kind of makes you feel a little better as you watch him and his head of messy hair nearly lose sight of the goal while he spreads your pussy apart repeatedly just to see you clench around nothing.

God, he adores seeing your body reacting to what he’s not yet giving. The way you clench, the way your legs tense with each slide of his fingers. He’s inspecting the damage of your untouched and utterly soaked pussy as if it was entirely his fault that you’re in this state.

The other’s let him have this one though, because they know for a fact that when they get between those thighs, they’ll humble him with confident ease.

Jaemin, specifically, believes this. Taking defeat in being shoved from between your legs and losing his chance at being the first to fuck his tongue into you. The image of Haechan doing his thing is enough to give him the confidence to do twice as well when it’s his turn anyway.

He busies himself instead.

There, as Haechan slides his fingers up your slit before landing right on your clit and pressing harshly against it, Jaemin unlocks his phone and opens his camera without a single hint of hesitation. His other hand goes straight to his jeans, skewing them down to let his cock spring free. Then, he’s reaching for your soaked panties and simply…hanging them off the head of his length as he records the scene in front of him with an eager glint in his eye.

“Mm, look–” Jeno says as he nudges your cheek, holding you down more now in case you make an attempt to lunge forward and knock that phone out of his hands. “You must look so good down there for him to wanna record you like this.”

You don’t even protest, because the clench of your pussy that’s being recorded in 4k would tell on you. Jaemin’s eyes are glued to the screen of his phone as Haechan continues to spread you open, exploring, feeling. Your eyes are tuned in to the only bare cock in the room now, seeing your panties shield the majority of it but loving the imagine of how tall his length stands, and then, finally–

“Oh? What was that?” Jeno perks up at the now, louder, sigh you release from your shamed lips. “Do you like what he’s doing?” He adds, trailing his eyes down to see exactly what caused you to make such a pretty sound.

You moan a confirmation, feeling a warm pair of lips wrap around your clit and suck harshly. The sounds of Haechan’s pleased hum at the taste only amplifies the touch beyond belief. Your entire body tingles at how insane all of this feels. Lips on you, Jeno’s voice in your ear, Jaemin recording it for later use, and Renjun slowly inviting himself to join?

Your legs immediately try to close around Haechan’s head when he continues to assault your clit with small grazes of his teeth, and wouldn’t you know it, Renjun finally approaches. Taking the struggle of your legs as a fucking invitation. He holds your legs with a stronger grip than you ever imagined he could have, spreading them wide enough that your ass nearly lifts from the couch.

The stretch of how wide he spreads them burns, and you try to look up at him in a pleading way but he's too busy pressing his surprisingly large cock against the side of your leg as he watches Haechan lick against you.

Haechan is appreciative of what Renjun offers to the scenario, feeling your pussy spread out across his lips and chin. It’s enticing when he doesn’t have to spread it open with his fingers, and it’s hard not to lick the entirety of it as he abandons your clit. Tongue slipping through each fold, licking flat right against your hole, then pressing in slightly before returning back to your clit and skewing his head to really get at it.

So, this is actually a thing that is happening. All four of your friends are entirely tuned into you and you’re being held down as if you’d run away. As if you’re not enjoying it. Goddamn, you are though.

In a split second decision, you prove that by overpowering Jeno and his weaker hold against you now. Seeing as how he was entirely lost in watching the way your legs and stomach tense at whatever Haechan’s tongue was doing. You rip your arms from his grasp and instantly grab Haechan’s hair, holding his face down and against your clit. Rubbing his nose in it, bucking your hips up against the pressure of his lips and tongue, wildly chasing what his lazy tongue struggles to offer.

There’s the desperate need to fuck all of your friends that you’ve been hiding, and it’s showing.

Jeno chuckles, nodding against your neck, still not touching and waiting for you to just fucking moan louder. More than Haechan, just overpower his sounds so he doesn’t have to hear how fucking good you taste, or how good you smell, or how good your pussy must look down there.

Still, you don’t give them everything they want. You stay reserved in the sounds you make in terms of reactions, even as you use Haechan’s face like a toy. Even as Jaemin audibly gasps at what you’re doing, even as Renjun releases one of your legs out of a desperate need to hold the other one against him so that he can feel some type of release.

Haechan knows his friends are jealous of him at this moment though. He’s lucky to feel your fingers tugging against his hair, he’s blessed to have your clit bumping his lips. He can feel your pussy drip against his chin the more you ride his face, and goddamn he must be doing a good job at being used.

That, he is. You only struggle more and more to not moan at the feeling of the way he just…lets you. If you knew he was always this submissive when it comes to eating pussy, you would have jumped on his tongue years ago.

Jaemin continues his recording, trying to zoom in and out to get a good angle that doesn’t involve the boners of his own friends, eventually deciding that he simply doesn’t care if Renjun is in the frame fucking that monster he’s got in his jeans against your leg. You’re the center of the world right now, and he’s a part of this just like his friends.

He tries not to focus on the image of Haechan gripping your couch for dear life either.

Slowly though, he begins to realize there’s a strange type of arousal in this room, one that isn’t entirely burning just for you. There’s something about seeing Haechan being used, seeing Jeno try to remain in control, whispering cocky little words into your ear, like he’s not pressing his cock against the back of that couch, seeing Renjun blatantly lose his composure against you when he’s never so much as hinted to the others that he was into this sort of thing.

Jaemin really feels like he’s going insane over the realization of how alluring this situation is, how alluring his friends are, how alluring he must be.

The speed of which he tosses the panties from his cock and shoves Haechan out of his way is not to be discussed. He feels a fire behind his thoughts at this moment that surely, Haechan won’t mind. Surely, you’ll not feel that split second of abandonment that’ll take place in the time span it takes for him to replace Haechan’s lips.

He forces his phone into a dazed Haechan’s hands who lazily raises the camera up to see Jaemin take his place. The way you barely even take a breath, the way you don’t even react to the change of mouth against you– goddamn, Haechan may very well fall into obsession with you at this moment.

Replacing him with Jaemin like he’s trash? Why does he love it? The way you grab Jaemin’s hair the same way you did to his own? Is that what he looked like when you did that? Spreading your legs and fucking against his face? Seeing it from a different angle, with a different person to Haechan, makes him believe you may be the sexiest woman he’s ever had the pleasure of licking.

And if you knew of the crisis happening below, perhaps you’d be able to focus on that more than the sound of Jeno’s deep sighs against your neck. Really, maybe you would have realized that the hair tangled in your fingers is now Jaemin’s.

Your brain focuses solely on the way Jeno’s lips brush against your skin, the wet feeling of his tongue darting out every few minutes, whispering deep mutterings of the things he loves about what’s happening. Words like “I can hear how wet you are, is it for me or for them?” and “You want more, don’t you? I could bury myself so deep for you–”

It’s kind of crazy how Jeno’s words somehow feel more intense than Jaemin’s tongue on you. There’s something within his words that feel damning. Like he’s belittling his friends despite blatantly seeing how they pleasure you. Like there’s a promise sprinkled in that after all of this, he would be the one you’d think about the most. He would be the one to leave the lasting impression.

Arguably, he already has. Spending his money on you without question, calling you out in a way that shows he knows exactly what game you’re playing. You think that if you let Jeno have at you, it may very well be a lasting impression on everyone, not just you.

Still, you try to focus on Jaemin’s lips through Jeno’s muttering.

You can feel the way he uses more tongue than Haechan and you know your hips are chasing his mouth right now. You can also feel the vibrations of his moans against you and while that is a heavenly feeling, Jeno’s small grunts penetrate straight through that pleasure and center itself once again. Briefly, you almost imagine it’s Jeno between your legs.

You’re moaning softly right next to him, hips chasing a feeling that he’s not even offering to you but god these sounds are for him. You’d never tell Jaemin that the moans aren’t directed at the beautiful work he’s giving to you though. Never.

These moans are for Jeno to react to, to take in, to use as encouragement. And he eats it up, tensing himself against your couch and finally using his hands for something other than helping you hold Jaemin’s head in place.

He runs them up, now moving his head to the other side of your neck and leaving small kisses there as he lifts your shirt up, up, up until it’s bunched up under your arms. There, he cups the flesh of your chest and uses his pointer finger on both hands to tease your already hardened nipples through the fabric of your bra.

He’s thought about playing with your tits so often, now that he can do it? He’d be damned not to savor it while his friends are busy fucking themselves and being used by you.

He teases, and teases, and fucking teases.

“Sensitive?” He whispers against you at the way you arch your back into his touch more than the way your hips fuck up.

You nod mindlessly, throwing your head back against the couch. Then, finally, he pulls your bra up too. An uncomfortable fit against your collar bone but his warm hands overpower the feeling of fabric that you’d rather have removed completely.

At first, he just holds them in his hands, feeling the weight of them, bouncing them, and then caressing them.

“Could drive me insane with these.” He whispers against your neck in a pleased sigh, pinching one of your nipples before mindlessly playing with them. “I’d like to slide my dick between them and feel how fucking soft they are,” He continues, losing his train of thought as he stares down, imagining how the slide would feel. “Fuck, so pretty.”

At that moment, you think he might have lost composure. The sound of his voice indicates that he was really thinking about it. You can feel the couch budge at the way he tenses up against it, and that paired with his teeth biting against your neck, you feel like the most desired person in the room. Which is true.

The more Jeno talks, the more you find yourself willing to give him just about anything he asks for. His big hands grope your chest in such a firm way, blatantly showing interest in the way he touches and plays with them. Every fleshy expanse of skin there is warmed up by his hands and it’s not strange at all to feel incredibly turned on by it.

Haechan audibly moans at seeing your tits jiggle in Jeno’s hands, probably ruining the video he’s recording but god damn. He knew they were huge but they’re pretty too and that’s just the ultimate combination when it comes to tits for him.

Just as Haechan goes to make his mouth useful again against a different part of you, Renjun takes what he needs. Which is fair, Haechan thinks, knowing that he’s already gotten to taste you, the least he can do is let Renjun suck some titties.

Jaemin, is still below enjoying himself and shockingly, Haechan is keeping to himself as he records, slipping his hand down his pants just to edge himself every few minutes as he watches the situation unfold. Almost in a daze at how insane it is that finally, you’re letting them see and touch you like this.

Feeling Renjun finally put his mouth on you though? Damn. Feeling three of the four touching you is a lot to take in but you still manage to do it. Jolts of pleasure are sent straight to where Jaemin continuously grinds his lips against your clit. Renjun shows no shame in inviting himself onto the couch next to you, swatting one of Jeno’s hands away and laying claim on one of your tits, immediately sucking against it and feeling himself spiral at the way you arch into it.

Jeno can’t say he’s too pleased with that though, staring straight at the way everyone has had their lips on part of you, but all he’s gotten was your fucking neck? All he’s gotten was to hump up against this couch to satiate his needs, and feel your nipples?

Renjun doesn’t notice the dark look on Jeno’s face, but Haechan sure does as he double takes at both the image on the phone screen and Jeno.

He recognizes that look and knows for a fact that Renjun better open his eyes and pay attention, or–

“Jaemin, get her off or move–” Jeno says, halting his fingers on your nipple as he backs away from the couch and now comes around in full view.

You stare, feeling Renjun continuously suck against your nipple, sending ripples down to your belly. Jeno’s pants are much tighter than before, and you can see the outline of his cock much like when you saw the photo he sent you.

It looks even bigger than before and your mouth nearly waters for it. The eye contact he’s keeping with you doesn’t do anything to help the situation either because he loves the way you struggle to decide on if you want to meet his eye or stare at his length.

There, he grabs himself, thrusting his hips playfully toward you with a quirk of his brow, as if to suggest you could have more than just his tongue if you ask.

You take in the implied suggestion, releasing Jaemin’s hair and struggling not to shove him clear across the room just to see what Jeno has to offer to you. It’s honestly like no one else in the room exists when he stands between your legs, looming over you and not at all falling to his knees.

You, Haechan, and Jaemin watch as he stands there, making a show of unbuttoning his pants to get his cock out. Renjun remains in his own little world though, sucking your nipple as if his life depends on it while shoving his pants down and shamelessly fucking into his fist.

Then, Jeno makes his move. It’s not exactly unwanted but damn, he really fucking goes for it. Dropping his pants to the floor and gripping Renjun by the hair, pulling him away from you as well.

“You got what you wanted while I had to watch,” Jeno comments harshly at his friends, grabbing your legs and pulling you down to wrap them around his waist. “Now, you watch me.”

Instantly, your pussy is throbbing at the image of how huge he is. His cock lays easily against you, heavy and leaking as it twitches to be inside of something. He’s going to fuck you. Jeno is going to fuck the life out of you. This wasn’t at all in the plan, then again, was any of this in your plan for the day?

Do you want Jeno to fuck you? Your eyes scan the room, all three men and a camera pointing their eyes at you. There seems to be a bit of a hopeful glint in each eye.

You nod weakly, watching Jeno take a good look at your pussy before smirking.

“So wet for this, no wonder they were moaning more than you were,” Jeno smiles, staring down at your hole before licking the tips of his fingers and dipping them into you without so much as a warning. “Feels good to finally have something to fuck, right Birthday girl?”

You’re speechless, wincing at how deep he buries his fingers. Never realizing just how perfect they’d reach inside of you. He bumps areas inside that you desperately need with so much ease.

Oh, oh fucking no.

There’s that burn. The reminder of a different release, pressure building up at lightning speed as your wet walls squeeze his fingers.

“How long have you wanted this?” Jeno comments at how tight you’re squeezing his fingers. “How long have you wanted me?” He continues, ignoring the other three in the room and paying no mind to them.

You can barely answer, your body reacting in all sorts of ways that it never has when it comes to a pair of fingers and dirty words. Perhaps it’s the sudden burn of needing to get to the bathroom, or perhaps it’s just Jeno. He leaves no room for any of that though, as he continues to chase what he wants.

“You want me?” He asks, urging you to nod, leaning over you and gripping your cheeks with one hand to look directly into his eyes.

His other hand pulls from your pussy and he coats his length in that wet that soaks his fingers. There, he tugs, leaking just like you are for it.

You blink up at him, sparing a single glance at the others and hoping that they don’t protest when you ultimately nod your head innocently.

“Take it then.” He seethes the words through his teeth before instantly adjusting his length and sliding into you in one go. Bottoming out entirely and holding himself there.

The sound you let out is embarrassing and slightly choked. The stretch of him inside of you makes you shake, your legs falling open from around him at the weakness in your muscles trying to adjust to the intrusion.

His two fingers were not enough to prepare for how thick he is inside of you. Every twitch he offers hurts, every breath he takes feels like he’s already fucking you senseless and you genuinely couldn’t muster up a single word of “wait,” if you wanted to.

Because you don’t want him to wait. You like the searing pain of fullness both inside of your pussy and bladder. It’s overwhelming and almost blinding to feel so utterly out of control of your body.

“Oh, my god.” Jaemin whispers out, experiencing first hand how huge Jeno’s cock is and the way he makes it fit into you.

He can see how tight you are around him, knowing for a fact that if Jeno were to jerk his hips back, your pussy would resist it. He shifts his eyes to the other’s in the room, seeing how Haechan has blatantly abandoned his phone and propped it up on the table to get his pants off, probably because he wants to see if he can fuck you after Jeno.

Renjun is just fucking gone, already having a fair share of cum on his shirt and breathing hard as he stares directly at the point of entry in a dazed and hopeful way.

Then there’s himself. Jaemin wants to fuck something so goddamn bad that he’s actually a little upset that he left that store without a pocket pussy. If Jeno gets to do what he wants, why the fuck can’t he?

So, he not so reluctantly finds him moving to his feet and over to you– avoiding eye contact with Jeno as he kicks his pants off followed by his shirt and lounges next to you on the couch.

He’s reluctant to reach for you at first, but when Jeno relieves that pressure inside of you for a moment and slams back in, he finds himself immediately reaching for your hand and lying it directly against his cock simply because of the sound you make.

You can barely think straight through the stars of Jeno’s cock spreading you open so slowly like this. He barely pulls out before pushing back in when you feel Jaemin grab your hand. You do your best, honestly, with all things considered. Opting to simply hold his cock tightly so that he can at least fuck into it. And that he does, especially when he hears the continuous string of whimpered moans spilling from your lips.

Jeno really does pay no mind to Jaemin because the point is, he’s the one who has his cock in you. They can take what they can get but he’s going to take exactly what he wants.

You’re incredibly tight around him, strangling his cock in such a beautiful way despite still dripping around it. The slide is harsh when he pulls back again. He looks down, watching the way your pussy grips him before pushing back in a bit harder this time.

“God, fuck,” He groans, gripping your legs and now pushing you back and fully onto the couch. He crawls over you, somehow managing to plant his cock even deeper when he thrusts this time. “You can barely take it–”

The way he moans breathlessly makes you feel proud despite your body feeling as if it’s on fire. Not a single mouth on your clit has gotten you close to orgasm because of his words overshadowing it. Now, though? With his cock bumping repeatedly against the softest spot in your pussy? You’re fucking shaking.

His moans do little to help the situation as you clench tightly, panicking slightly at the familiar feeling in your gut. You shoot up, nearly knocking heads with Jeno and abandoning Jaemin’s pathetically needy cock all together when you continue to push Jeno away.

He barely budges, forcing his cock in and out of you, smiling at your panic. This is what he was waiting for, he can see exactly what you’re trying to do.

“Just take it,” He laughs slowly, picking up the pace of his hips and watching that panic in your eyes. “Let it go.”

You can’t bring yourself to do it. That burning sensation in your bladder making itself far too known when his cock bumps that spot inside of you. You aggressively shake your head.

“Come on, let it go.” He encourages, now snaking his hand down and rubbing your clit at such speed that really, it’s not intentional.

Your body tenses and you let out that breath you’ve been holding through this. On instinct your body pushes, it shakes, and you let go. Jeno knew exactly what he was doing throughout the day too, so he’s fucking beaming when your pussy forces him out along with the gushing liquid of your long awaited release.

“God, so messy.” He compliments you, trying to force his cock back into place to feel that release in its full intensity. “Let it go, drench me–” He continues to talk, losing his goddamn mind at how soaked he’s getting. Fucking so harshly past your clenching walls, burying himself as deep as he can go just to feel the way your pussy jerks him off in an attempt to push him out.

He rumbles out a pleased sound, side eyeing Jaemin and the way he sits there fisting his own cock at a speed that is likely very painful. He can’t bear to turn to see the other’s though, but hopefully they know now who is calling the shots here after this.

It goes on for so long that you can barely even open your eyes by the time your body stops releasing. You choose not to comment on what just happened, knowing full well that you’ve never squirted in your life and feeling embarrassed that Jeno fucked you for a total of four minutes to force that out of you.

The relief you feel inside of you right now is…interesting to say the least. Still, you choose not to focus on the fact that Jeno is fucking beaming at you, still fucking into you, and the wet sounds below are far more telling than any porn you’ve ever watched.

The room falls into silence save for the slapping of Jeno taking you for all you’re worth and the sounds of palms hitting the base of their assigned cocks, and– oh?

“You’re just taking it–” He groans out, short of breath as he drives himself deeper, harder, and then suddenly emptying you completely.

“Renjun,” Jeno says, lazily pumping his cock as if he didn’t just go fucking feral on top of you, and then abandon you.

You’re shocked at how fucking fast Renjun jumps up though, following orders as if he was born to do it.

No words are spoken after that, all Jeno does is nod his head to the space between your legs and immediately you feel Renjun’s hands gripping your thighs and his tongue lapping away at the mess.

Your legs start to shake again, feeling sensitive to the point that your hips try and fight to get away from his relentless probes of the tongue. He won’t let you go, holding you down and letting his lips follow wherever your hips go.

You can’t get away, all you can feel is Renjun’s mouth cleaning up every single drop of that embarrassing mess that Jeno created, and the desperate whines that are coming from your lips only drive Renjun to eat harder. Making out with your clit in the way he’s wanted to do all fucking day, stiffening his tongue and tasting the insides of you, fingernails digging into your flesh just to prove how badly he needed this.

It all happens so fast, a second orgasm approaching at the speed of light when Jeno coos out at the both of you. You both look pathetic, and it’s exactly how it’s supposed to be.

Renjun goes, and goes, and fucking goes until– you realize how close he is.

So close that, despite already having gotten off once without so much as letting anyone know, he’s standing to his feet and instantly fisting his cock. The speed of which he does it allows your clit to swell even more at the image despite your orgasm trickling back down.

You focus on his face and the way his brows knit together, his mouth falls open, and then– a breathy moan. You can feel it spill, dripping down your slit and onto the couch. You’re shocked he has so much to offer as you lay there shaking, watching him empty himself entirely onto you.

And then, the fucking whiplash you feel when Jeno moves him out of the way and, quite literally, drags you onto the floor before spreading you out wide for ultimate use.

As long as he gets his cock in you again, they can do whatever they want for their release.

You’re so silent, never feeling more like prey than you do now when you feel Jeno tuck a cushion up under your ass and fuck Renjun’s cum right into you in one slow and languid thrust. It’s animalistic in the way this turned from them trying to pleasure you into now, them trying to pleasure themselves.

You can barely comprehend the way Jeno forces you to take his size again. Your mouth is left hanging open and Haechan uses that as a damn invitation, pressing his length past your lips and bumping the back of your throat. He holds your head there, feeling your throat constrict around him and releasing a long awaited moan that he’s been needing since he originally got to taste you.

Relief is what they’re getting right now, and for some reason, you don’t feel ashamed at all with the way you let them. You’re a fucking mess despite Renjun cleaning you up and then promptly dirtying you twice as much. You open your eyes through your gagging at Haechan.

He pauses at that. Staring down at the way the tears start to run down your cheek, but you’re implying with your slow blinks that you feel good.

“Fuck, it’s just like the video–” Haechan chokes out, fucking his hips into your mouth at a rapid speed, reminding himself of that video you shared with the girl needing to be filled in every form of the word.

And you know, Jaemin would totally take you up on that offer, forcing all of you to stop just so he can get under you and fuck into that same hole Jeno has claimed, but, well, listen.

He’s so fucking close. He’s been edging himself this entire time and he will be damned to spill anywhere near someone else’s cock. Why? Because he’s way too attracted to everyone right now and he’s a bit concerned about getting off to someone other than you right now.

Which, that’s a hurdle he can deal with when he gets to it. He, instead, takes this opportunity to go for your hand again. Obsessing over the way your weak fingers grip him in an instant, dragging up and down his length with the help of Jeno’s insistent and harsh thrusts.

He watches the way you moan with stretched lips, the way your legs lift to wrap around Jeno’s waist to try and hold him in place and then– Oh? You gain your composure back and grip his cock like you’re hell bent on milking him dry.

He groans with a smile, sinking down on his knees next to you and letting you work him up just like you’re doing for the others.

You’re going with your hands, with your mouth, and with that tight little pussy of yours apparently because everything else happens in a blur.

To Renjun, he takes it upon himself to grab that phone and be sure to capture every messy second of what happens.

First one down is Haechan. Once again, he grips your head and holds your face flat against his abdomen when he releases deep into your throat. His hands shake as he struggles not to suffocate you like this. He could feel you swallow around each spurt of his cum, utterly spending him of all energy before he releases you and lazily throws himself back against your floor in a huff.

Then, Jaemin. Despite being in his head, promising himself that your hand was good enough for him to finish, he couldn’t resist the absence of a cock in your mouth at that point. He immediately replaces Haechan, being far more gentle with the way he fucks himself against your tongue. Didn’t take long at all to have his hips stutter. He was more particular about his release though, snapping his hips back when his orgasm approached and jerking himself off right there against your face. He intentionally misses your mouth, wanting to see it drip down your cheeks and chin and onto those tits that have been long abandoned by now.

Which is a shame because he really likes those.

Then, Jeno, pulling the power moves he always does.

He waits, and he waits, changing his pace time and time again to prevent you both from releasing. He does this until you’re practically gone. Your eyes roll back, your mouth is slack, and he can tell you have no thoughts at all in your head when you start babbling. Finally, he rubs your clit.

There, he holds himself off as your orgasm sends you straight into another dimension. You tremble through it as your entire body falls limp and out of breath and only then does he pull out and release the most pornographic, deep, moan you’ve ever heard in your life.

The amount of cum he releases on you is fucking obscene. To be fair, you drenched him first but holy fuck does he lay claim to as much of you as he can.

It spurts up to your tits, some lands on your belly, a majority of it spills directly onto your clit and thighs.

You can’t help it when your fingers move to trace some of it around even more, feeling entirely sticky both inside and out. You help him lay his claim on every other part of you, even going as far as smearing that cum on your clit and gently dipping it inside of you with the tips of your fingers.

Jeno, out of breath and fucking watching you do that takes in a pained breath.

“Don’t” He warns, amazed by you. “Don’t do shit like that.”

You tilt your head with a dazed smile, pushing your fingers in deeper as if to ask “why not?”

He shakes his head, a smile creeping up on his face.

“Always such a damn tease.”

a/n: there was a lot more i wanted to add to this, such as jeno getting his chance to eat and stuff, but i was writing too much so I hope you liked it anyway!

#nct smut #nct dream smut #jeno smut #jaemin smut #haechan smut #renjun smut

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d10nyx · 1 month

Text

over again

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dark content, heavy dub-con, forced ddlg, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, fingering, p in v, creampie, mentions of past drugging, daddy kink, lots of pet names

a/n: took me forever n ever to write this ahhh sorry :/ hope you all enjoy it !! feedback always appreciated !! hopefully the writers block will finally perish.

word count: 1.6k words

14 weeks. 98 days. 2352 hours.

Leon leaves the house at 7.30 am every morning, except for Sundays. From Monday to Thursday, he's home around 6 pm. On Fridays, he isn't home until around 9 pm. Saturdays are the worst because he's home just after lunch.

Usually, when he comes home, he goes to the bedroom and unlocks the door to let you out. He threads his hand in your leash to take you upstairs, giving you a kiss on your forehead as he takes you to the kitchen to eat a meal. He gives you your food on a pink, plastic princess plate with plastic cutlery, and cuts the food into bite size pieces. More often than not, he hand feeds you.

You don't fight it. You'd learned your lesson. You refused food from him once. For 2 out of your 14 weeks locked up in his home, he'd underfed you to the point of starvation until you were begging him to feed you. He sat you in his lap, cooing all sweet as you chewed and swallowed every mouthful he'd given you. That day was the first day he slept with you.

It wasn't all bad. He was sweet. Gentle. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend he was a loving boyfriend. Someone who cared for you, not the creep who'd snatched you from the street after you had a few too many drinks at your friend's party, promising you a better life, safe from the world.

But he isn't sweet, or nice, or kind. He didn't do this for you, despite what his twisted brain tells him. You can pretend all you want that he's something other than what he is, but it doesn't change what he is. A monster.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Where's my little princess?” Leon's asking as soon as he walks into the house, kicking his shoes off and hanging his jacket up at the door. You recently got free reign of the home for being on your best behaviour. Didn't even have to keep the leash attached to your collar anymore. Lucky you.

“Here, daddy.” You say meekly, poking your head out of the living room to approach him, fiddling awkwardly with the edge of your shirt. Head down, so he doesn't have to see the defeated expression on your face as you force out the words, swallowing thickly to hold back your tears.

“You have a good day, sweetheart? You do any coloring in those cute little books I got you?” Leon's hands come up to your cheeks, gently stroking his thumbs back and forth across your cheekbones. You shake your head, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from saying something.

“No? Why not, baby? You don't like them? I got the one with lots of kitties. Pretty girls like you like cute things, don't they?” He coos, squishing your cheeks in his hands to make your lips all pouty so he can lean down and give them a little kiss, letting out a loud ‘mwah’ as soon as his lips make contact.

“You eat at least? I left some food in a lunchbox for you.” You shake your head again, and this time it seems to elicit a worse reaction. His brows furrow, and his hand grips your face even tighter. “No? Silly baby… can't do anything without daddy, can you? Come on. Daddy'll feed you, cutie.”

He heats up some food for you and puts it on a plate. The pink, plastic princess plate. He sits you on his lap and feeds it to you from a fork. Pink, plastic fork. The routine is the same, no matter how much you wish for it to change. When you finish eating, he presses a tender kiss to your head and rocks you in his arms.

“Such a good girl. Good girls get rewarded, princess.” He murmurs, pressing soft kisses against the skin of your neck, trailing them up until he's nosing at the hair behind your ear. His hand slides up your thigh and under your skirt, his thumb swiping your swollen bud through the already damp fabric. It didn't matter if you didn't want it. Your body didn't seem to understand what was happening - all it knew was Leon made you feel good. You hated how compliant you got when he touched you, how any thoughts of defiance melted away.

You go limp when he touches you. Docile. You let him do what he wants to you, just like a good girl should. Back-talking daddy is a big no-no. He wrote that in big writing on the rule list that's pinned to the fridge. Escape didn't use to seem impossible, yet now the thought never even crossed your mind. You'd tried, but he kept a tight lock on you. You wouldn't be surprised to find out one of the many injections he gave you when you were unruly had a tracker in. He always seemed to know exactly where you were.

You whimper as he dips his hand under the waistband of your panties. He parts your puffy lips with practiced ease as he continues on with the next part of his routine. 98 days later and he's mapped every inch of your body perfectly - found out everything that has you keening under his touch. Your hips buck as he runs his fingertip between your folds, gathering slick before rubbing small circles into your clit.

“Poor, dumb baby. She's soaking me already. You couldn't make yourself feel good when daddy was gone, huh, sweetheart?” His words are followed up by a finger burying itself in your tight heat, curling to find that gummy spot that has you clenching around him and bucking your hips. “Pretty princess cunt's been drooling for me all day.”

A choked sob leaves you when he pulls his cock out and sits you on top of it. He pulls you down until he's buried to the hilt, groaning as you tighten around his length. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, peppering it with tiny little kisses. You can't help but cry whenever Leon fucks you. 98 days later and you still sob whenever he bullies your cervix with his dick. No matter how many times he makes you cum or makes you go dumb on his cock, it doesn't change anything. He took everything from you - your family, your friends, your job.

You hated yourself more than Leon. For letting him break your walls down. For clinging to him as he tightens his grip on your waist, manhandling you on his cock, lifting you up and down. For finding yourself missing him when he's at work.

“Love…love you, daddy…” Your words come out more like a cry, nose all runny and cheeks wet with tears as he fucks up into you, his head shifting to hang back in pleasure. His fingers dig into your waist as he hears the words, a breathy laugh leaving him as he smiles - all toothy and bright like it always is when you say that.

“Love you even more, princess.” He grunts out, leaning back on the seat to force himself deeper into your pussy, guiding your hips back and forth so you're grinding his cock inside of you, rubbing your pretty clit against his happy trail. You gasp at the sensation, your hands gripping into his shoulders as your brows furrow in pleasure.

“Daddy… daddy…” You gasp out as your orgasm hits, your lips parting as you gush all over him. The look on your face as you cum is enough to have his balls tighten, his teeth gritting as he starts to shallowly thrust into you once more, chasing his own release. You always cry when you cum, and Leon always kisses the tears away when you do, his lips pressing against the wetness on your cheeks repeatedly. Another part of the ritual, another moment repeating day after day.

“Want daddy to fill you up, sweet girl?” He grunts, nipping at your neck as he wraps his arms tight around your waist in a bear hug, holding you steady as he fucks up into your drippy cunt. “Gonna warm you up right in that cute lil’ tummy.”

His hips stutter as his orgasm hits him, his jaw going slack as he presses the tip of his cock right up against your cervix, filling you to the brim with his sticky cum. He slides a hand under your shirt, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into the skin of your tummy.

“That's it. Keep it all in, okay? Daddy doesn't want to see his little angel spill a single drop.” He says softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. He holds you there for a couple of minutes, cradling you against his chest until it's time to go to sleep.

Before bed that night, Leon ushers you into the bathroom. Like every night before this one, he gently grips your jaw with one hand as he stands behind you, his other hand gripping your pink princess toothbrush as he brushes your teeth, his eyes locked onto you through the mirror. At bedtime, he tucks you in and curls up behind you, spooning you with one hand on one of your tits, and the other wrapped tightly around your waist.

Tomorrow is a Friday. He wakes you up at 6.30 am with a kiss to your head as always, a warm cup of milk in one hand and your breakfast in the other. He feeds you off of a pink, plastic princess plate and presses a kiss to your lips before leaving at 7.30 am on the dot.

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #tw dark content

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casualhedonists · 3 months

Text

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter five)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder/violence mention (but no actual murder) , MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, lots of switching between dom/sub dynamics, oral sex, thigh riding, face sitting, degradation, dirty talk, edging/orgasm denial, roughhousing, eventual piv, one chapter specific dubcon scene (pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

chapter: 5/6

words: um. 9.5k (sorry? but also you're welcome??)

chapter warnings: this chapter contains a scene that falls solidly into dubcon territory, so please proceed with caution, stay safe out there.

moodboards

series masterlist

a/n: WELL. here we are, almost at the end of our little rollercoaster ride. i've lost brain cells over this chapter, almost cut it up into smaller chunks, but ended up leaving it as long as i originally planned (longer, in fact. whoops). as always, feedback is very welcome + encouraged (i love hearing/reading your thoughts as things progress) buckle up, please do take note of the dubcon warning, prepare for the angst, and most importantly, enjoy!

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

He was back to ignoring you again.

But this time, the feeling was mutual. You’d never felt as thoroughly rejected as you did the night he had you walk back to your room, legs weak, wrapped in nothing but his shirt.

Once upon a time, this scenario would have been one you dreamed of, but reality often falls flat on its face. You wouldn’t have dreamt of walking away from him like this if you’d known it would feel this empty.

Humiliation ran rampant through your body, starting with the tears you blinked away as you left his room, closing the door behind you, and then flooding over as you stepped into your own room, slumping on the bed, curling up into yourself and weeping, pressing your still aching legs together but too upset to finish yourself off.

You kicked yourself for getting carried away, for getting too loud, too possessive with his face between your thighs and your hand in his hair. For getting so caught up in the moment, briefly forgetting your games, and for believing even for a second that you would be on the same page.

This push and pull had begun to wear you thin, and you were tired. So, you slept. Until nearly midday the next morning, when Lucille knocked on your door to remind you it was time for your monthly PR debrief.

The good news, though arguable at this point, was that your arrangement hadn’t been affected by recent events. At least, not on paper. Cordelia ran you through each gala, public appearance, and dinner, barely noticing your preoccupation, rambling on about speeches, coordinating outfits, dates and times of events, what to say and how to say it.

For you - and you could only imagine, Coriolanus too - everything had changed over the span of a month.

Your shame made you abnormally quiet, head hung low, gaze averted, nodding along as Cordelia prompted either a response or approval from you. Snow just stared, glancing at her only when completely necessary, but otherwise, he didn’t take his eyes off you.

He was enjoying this. The sick fuck. You were glad when the meeting ended and you could scamper into the library, eager to lose yourself in a story of any kind other than the one you were living.

This went on. By day, you barely looked at him; by night, you tried over and over to prove that your own fingers were enough to keep you satisfied. To convince yourself that you just wanted him, you didn’t need him.

Because if you needed him, then he called the shots. He would win. And victorious as he may seem, the game wasn’t over yet. You’d slipped up in a moment of vulnerability, he’d tricked you into a corner just to prove his point.

You wanted him, you didn’t need him. But if you did… well.

He was going to have to need you more.

You held back this time. Keeping your cards safe, close to your chest. In a strange way, you found a kind of solace in your arrangement. Recent events had caused it to feel unstable, breakable even, but the meeting had ensured that it was all still on the right track. It allowed you to take a small piece of what you wanted from him without guilt or repercussions. After all, it was planned out to benefit you both. Then, when you were ready, and with a gentle hand, you began to weaponise it, loading it up in the barrel of a gun aimed directly at Snow.

You didn't have much left, but you had this. You knew where your promiscuity had led you. This time, you wanted to pull on his heart strings. Make him feel remorse, or whatever similar emotion he was capable of. Make him soften to you. Torture him with almosts that were never enough.

So when you took, you took cautiously, tentatively. You deepened your usually light kisses to what was just past socially acceptable, only to pull back when Snow began to lean in, turning away and smiling at the people surrounding you, or full-on entering into conversation with somebody else. You'd brush your thumb against his when you held hands, waiting for him to look at you, drawing your hand away when he did. You'd offer smiles to everyone but him, talk and laugh a little louder when you could feel him watching.

You pretended he didn’t exist. You could feel him begin to simmer. It wasn't as brazen as your usual game, but it was working.

Until it wasn’t.

“Something’s wrong, what is it?”

Lucille’s face dropped, her shaking hands lowering from the zip she was struggling with. You were getting ready for a luncheon, and you’d picked out an emerald green dress, one of your favorites for daytime events.

“I’d hoped you wouldn’t notice, ma’am. I apologise. It’s my brother, he… it’s getting worse again.”

“Sit down for a second. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You listened to Lucille open up uncomfortably, visibly nervous that you would offer your financial support as you’d done before. But you didn’t, sparing her from having to turn you down.

Lucille was stubborn - she would never accept your charity. She was more than happy to work for her wages, and frequently worked longer hours. As months went by, you’d brought her pay up as high as you could without her noticing. But now things were getting more critical, and you knew there was only one thing you could do.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Go and see your brother.”

“But you’re not dressed-”

“I’ll take care of it. Go home, Lucille. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

She smiled softly.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

You’d tried with the zip, you really had. You didn’t want to have to knock on Snow’s office door with two favors to ask instead of one, but the dress was tight and the zip kept getting jammed. So, there you stood, dress half undone at the back, heart in your throat. You counted your blessings; at least it wasn’t his bedroom. You didn’t think you could face him at all in there. You heard typing from inside.

“Come in.”

You pushed the door open, feeling like an intruder.

“Sorry, I just… Could you help me with this?” Your hand tightened behind your back, holding the dress together.

He narrowed his eyes. He was already in his suit, typewriter on the desk in front of him.

“Lucille forget how to do her job?”

“I don’t need snide right now. Please, Coriolanus? I’ll explain when I’m not half naked. It’s drafty in here.”

You tried to make it clear in your tone that this wasn’t some ploy. You weren’t sure you had many of those left to offer.

“Fine.” He sighed, and stood, making no motion towards you, so you crossed the room, gripping onto the fabric, turning your back to him.

His hand came to rest on your waist as the other took the zipper, and you tried not to flinch at his touch. You pressed your lips together as he carefully zipped you up, cold metal sending a chill down your spine. Or maybe that was just him. You felt your eyes slide shut and your lips part as his hand lingered on your waist. You couldn’t hear anything but your heartbeat and the tick of his grandfather clock.

“Is that okay? Not too tight?” His breath on your neck gave you goosebumps, you hoped desperately that he wouldn’t notice.

“No, it’s perfect. Thank you.”

The second his hand fell from your waist, you missed it. You carefully met his eye; he was looking at you like you had something he wanted.

So why hadn’t he wanted you? You’d been right there, and he’d turned you down.

He cleared his throat.

“I should finish this letter before we leave. Was there anything else?”

You paused.

“Actually, there is. Could I ask you a favor?” You glanced off to the side, suddenly very interested in the knots of wood on his desk. What helped was that you'd never seen inside this room before, and you hid behind your curiosity like it was a lifeline.

“What is it?”

“It’s…” you lowered your voice, “it’s about Lucille. Her brother, actually. He’s in the hospital again. The family can’t afford the medical bills to keep him in for as long as he needs. I’d like to foot the bill, but I can’t do it anonymously. I thought… well, I was wondering if you could pull a few strings.”

You were overexplaining, something you weren’t at all used to doing, but these days, just being in the same room as him made you nervous. You stared at his desk, at the lack of photographs on it, the single pen laying to the side, the smoothness of the glaze.

It was quiet for a moment.

“Consider it done.”

You looked up.

“Really?”

“Did you think I’d say no?” He asked.

“I- no, but…”

“It’s something that matters to you.”

You blinked, dumbfounded at how simply he put it.

“Yes. It is. Thank you, Coriolanus.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll make sure it’s anonymous.”

“Thank you. Or, I mean…”

He looked at you, and you wanted to melt. Wanted to throw strategy out the window, god, but -

You couldn’t. It hadn’t worked last time. You’d hoped to avoid a stalemate, but here you were, sat right in the middle of one.

“The car’s coming in a half hour. Are you almost ready?” He asked.

“Yes. Almost.”

The luncheon was going well, at first. You were at the head of a large table, sat beside Snow, straightening your salad fork as he stood up to make a speech. You’d been glancing at him throughout the afternoon; it wasn’t so hard to anymore. It felt like his willingness to help Lucille without question, just because it was what you wanted, had more of an effect on you in five minutes than the entire week of your teasing had on him. One conversation, and the tides had changed.

As he began talking, you started to realise that your gentler approach may have been affecting you more than it had him. The party was transfixed; people loved to hear him talk, and you were proud. He had a certain way with words; you knew better than anyone. You’d fallen victim to them.

You weren’t sure why his words affected you – you’d been there, you’d agreed when Cordelia had suggested he say something nice about you in this particular speech, really make the crowd swoon, lay it on thick - but when he started to talk about you, about how proud he was to have you by his side, how strong you were-

You knew he was just reciting a script written for him, but you couldn’t help it. The tears began to quietly fall. You thanked whatever higher being was listening for not letting anyone notice.

Or so you thought.

It was just typical that out of all the people that could’ve noticed, the one person who knew better was the only one who did.

The rest of them would’ve brushed it off as you simply being moved by emotion, honored by his kind words. You blinked away your tears, taking small, polite sips of your wine. It was painful because you knew it wasn’t true. None of it was, you knew he could never say those words and mean them.

And he knew that too.

It was dark when you got home, and you trailed behind him awkwardly on your way upstairs.

“Can I have a word?” his voice was gentle, and it set you on edge.

“Sure.”

You stood awkwardly in the hallway, then he led you into the office. He leaned against his desk, and you shifted your feet where you stood, eyes on the floor, on the art on the walls, on anything other than him.

“You were upset today.” He started.

You swallowed.

“It won’t happen again, I promise.” you kept your voice steady. He paused.

“If that was my fault, I apologise. If I took it too far, if I upset you-”

You weren’t sure which part he was talking about, but you finally looked at him in a sort of distant defiance.

“Do you even care if I’m upset?”

“Of course I do. Especially when it’s something that affects you… publicly.”

You huffed, forcing yourself to stare him down.

“Because that’s all that matters, right? What the public sees?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Sure it is. It’s okay, Snow. I’m a big girl. And I can take a hint, too. So don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine. Business as usual, right?”

He just stared, puzzled. You took a breath.

“Look, it’s been a long day. Can I go, or are you going to keep me here all night?”

The silence was like smoke, clouding between you. His brow furrowed, calculating. Then he sighed, long and heavy, and you tried not to let it phase you.

“Fine. Go.”

You nodded.

“Goodnight.”

You’d never been more relieved to get away from him. Your broken walls were starting to build back up. You wouldn’t let him break you, you couldn’t. You were stronger than this.

That night, for the first time, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was truly what you wanted.

“Darling, you look ravishing.” Lilian drawled. “It’s a pity Snow is so far across the room, and can’t appreciate you. If I dressed half as nicely as you did, perhaps my dear husband wouldn’t be screwing the maid.”

A scandalised chorus of giggles erupted from the group. It was a pretty dress, one of your best. Long and smooth black fabric, ruched at the waist, with a deep cut up the leg that was just acceptable for an evening gala. You stood tall, champagne glass in hand, gossiping with your friends.

Well.

Friends was being generous. You kept few true friends, and they would hardly be gossiping in a circle like this.

Acquaintances was a better fit. Pawns if you were being brutally honest. Politicians’ wives, senators’ mistresses, a chancellor’s daughter or two. Pieces of chess, really, in this bigger game. Anyone who could help you climb higher, whisper carefully spun words into open ears at your whim.

“I just know George would rip that dress off me the moment I got home. He might not even be able to wait, and just pull me into a closet here instead.”

Another eruption of giggles.

“Well, I’m flattered, my darlings.” You smiled. “This is one of my favorites. Coriolanus treats me well.”

“I’m sure he does,” a suggestive glance from Lilian, “in all the ways one would expect, I assume?”

You gasped in mock modesty.

“Lilian,” you drawled, “I certainly hope you’re not suggesting I disclose our-”

“Oh, just tell us dear, please. We’re all dying to know. You’re always so coy about it. What’s he like?”

You pulled your lips into a knowing smile, your perfectly painted face helping you slide into this facade. You scanned your eyes across the ballroom, across to Snow. He stood talking to a group of men, colleagues of his. You recognised their faces.

It had been four days since the luncheon. Four days since your outburst. Four days of hiding away. You’d been dreading tonight’s gala, but it gave you an excuse to dress nicely, and as soon as you’d arrived, you and Coriolanus has gone your separate ways.

“Well,” you hummed, masking your uncertainty as anticipation, “he can be a slight tease.”

A few dramatic gasps sounded through the group, and you turned back to face them, their eyes wide and expectant.

“Salacious. Do tell.” Another voice piped up with a giggle.

“He can be fun to toy with. I do enjoy pushing back, but sometimes he takes it… a little far.” You said carefully.

“My, who would have known? But you get what you want, my dear, surely.” Lilian asked.

You smiled, glancing back at him, suit pristine with a white rose in his breast pocket. You hated how good he looked. He was smiling politely at the group of men around him, but you could tell from the tick in his jaw that something was bothering him.

“Sometimes, I do. Others, I wait for my chance to push his buttons right back.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that? I don’t suppose,” she pressed, “that you’re in one of those… entanglements at the moment?”

“Lilian, darling, you know I don’t kiss and tell.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Another giggle sounded from the group.

“Oh, my.” Lilian repeated, glancing between the two of you. “I do hope you’ve been making him suffer.”

“Well, I’m playing a longer game this time, so I’m afraid there hasn’t been as much fun lately.”

Lilian sucked in a breath, like the perfect idea had just dawned on her.

“Well, I see no moment like the present. You’re here, you’re dressed marvellously, I propose you walk right over there and show him just what he’s missing.”

A chorus of yes and do it and we’ll cheer you ons rang out. Loosened by the champagne, you looked across the room at him again. You could do it. He wouldn’t be able to react, it would be the most perfect torture. You suddenly decided that you were done making small moves, done playing it safe like this was some schoolgirl crush. It was time to step up to the mark again. Take your power back.

Your group could sense the newfound determination in you. You smiled, slow and cunning.

Show him what he’s missing.

Simple. It’s what you did best.

“Watch and learn, ladies.”

A hush fell over the group as they watched you run a hand through your hair, handed your glass to one of them, and pressed your lips together. Before you’d left the house you’d added a swipe of red lipstick, dark red, almost bloodlike. It always made you feel more confident and tonight, you needed the pick me up.

The middle of the ballroom was practically empty; the dancing was over, and everyone had long since gathered in groups to the sides. So you turned heads when you stepped out, the only one on the floor, black satin hugging your frame like a second skin. You didn’t look at them, you made a steady beeline to Snow. You felt more and more eyes on you as you crossed the room, heels clicking on the floor. They all watched, waiting for… something. Coriolanus didn’t look up until you were a mere few steps away, now deep in some conversation he was going to forget very shortly.

Blue eyes flashed to yours with a confused apprehension, but you didn’t give yourself time to think about the twitch of his brow, or the looks on the faces of his colleagues. You didn’t think about the way he opened his mouth as if to say something, only for it to be swallowed away.

You didn’t think about any of that.

Because your lips were on his.

Hot and hungry, teeth clashing, your hand grabbing the back of his neck as he leaned in, surprised at first, then warm, wanting. Lips tugging at yours like he was starving.

It was sinful.

You’d never been kissed like this before. Your fuzzy brain wondered how you’d gone through life not knowing what this felt like, the press of his lips devouring yours, heated and messy.

He kissed you like breathing, like you were his oxygen supply. His hand slid to your waist and pulled you in, and you heard the echoes of chuckling coming from around you, morphing into a few light claps.

Then, just as you felt him fully melt into you, your hand slipped higher to the nape of his neck, grabbing a fistful of perfect platinum curls, and tugged.

It was nothing but an affectionate display to the people surrounding you, but a brazen reminder between the two of you. It was your way of showing you hadn’t forgotten, that you wouldn’t be made to feel ashamed, to cower in a corner while he got the better of you.

Not in this lifetime.

The second it happened, his breath hitched, and his hand tensed on your waist. You were the only one who caught it, getting high off the satisfaction, finally pulling away.

You weren’t sure you’d ever seen a prettier sight; his blown-out eyes, his face stained with scarlet.

How’s that for tasting your own medicine.

Watching him attempt to collect himself was sweeter still. Watching him reset his face into one of distant amusement. He let out a small laugh, glanced at the rest of the party.

“Everything alright, doll? Had a little much champagne, perhaps?”

His colleagues chuckled, but you didn’t look their way. You stood your ground. Offered a sweet smile, but he could see your slyness.

“Oh, I’m swell. And I think I’ve had just enough, actually. I’m gonna go freshen up.”

You turned on your heel and made your way through winding halls to the bathroom, riding an adrenaline high. You picked up a glass from a server’s tray along the way – the champagne had dried out, all they were serving now was posca, which while disgusting, worked a treat to take the edge off. It wasn’t long before the door swung open and you saw Coriolanus appear behind you in the mirror.

“This is the ladies’ room, handsome.” You looked away, continuing to reapply your lipstick.

He stepped closer.

“What was that kiss about, sweetheart?” Straight to the point.

“Nothing.” You shrugged.

“Didn’t feel like nothing.”

“That’s called acting, Snow.” You rolled your eyes, vaguely aware that your words sounded a little jumbled. You put the tube of lipstick away. “We had an audience. A rather expectant one at that.”

He folded his arms.

“I don’t like it when you catch me off guard like that. Not with people around.”

“Seemed to like it plenty to me.” You mumbled.

He didn’t answer, pacing past you to the other sink, grabbing a towel and wiping it against his face, where the red had stained his skin. It only served to spread it around further, and if you weren’t already smugly entertained by the marks you’d left on him, now it was just plain funny.

He glared at you when you laughed.

“Don’t give me that look. Here,” you offered, stepping across to him, taking the towel and wetting it, “let me.”

You wiped at a patch, but he snatched the towel back and took over.

“No, you’re rubbing it too hard. It’s-” he glowered at you – “fine. Do it your way.”

You went back to lean against your sink and took another sip of posca, admiring the ornate decorations in the room. A little excessive, a little new money for your tastes.

There was a rap on the door.

“President Snow?”

“Just a minute.” He said coolly.

“You’re in a mood tonight.” You remarked, and he huffed.

“Running a country can get exhausting. Don’t expect you to understand.”

“Right.” You said flatly. “Because I’m just a brainless pawn like everybody else.”

He looked over at you, at the drink in your hand.

“How many of those have you had?”

You shrugged again, and he tossed the towel into the sink, walking over to you.

“Answer me.” His voice was stern, and for a second, you soaked it in, drenched in the danger as he approached, closing in. Your tongue slipped out to wet your lips, and your eyes followed his as he moved to stand in front of you.

“Shame you don’t have someone to let all that frustration out on, isn’t it? Sounds like that could be helpful.”

His eyes pierced yours.

“Doll-”

“I’m just saying, it’s a pity you don’t.” You moved to bring the glass to your lips, anticipating the burn in your throat, but he gently stopped your hand.

“Okay, that’s enough.”

“Posca? It’s my first glass.” You smiled, eyes batting.

“You know what I mean. I think you should stop.”

You looked at the glass, then back at him, and pried your hand away, slowly and pointedly taking another sip.

“Sweetheart.” He warned.

“What, are you punish me? Gonna make me beg for you then kick me out again? Already did that once.”

He gave an incredulous half-laugh.

“That’s what this is about? You’re not really going to be mad about that forever, are you?”

“That depends. How long is forever?”

The door knocked again, and he worked the glass out of your hand.

“Drink some water. Sober up. We’ll talk about this when we get home.”

You sighed, heading for the door, but glanced back at him, his face still a stained mess. You brushed a finger against your own cheek to mirror his.

“You missed a spot.”

You sat in silence in his office, feeling a little like a schoolchild caught misbehaving. His typing was the only sound in the room. The seat was low; almost as if it was there to point out his authority over anyone who sat in it. Knowing him, it probably was.

He’d managed to clean off the rest of your lipstick, but his face looked rubbed raw, uncomfortable. A tall glass of water sat on the desk in front of you.

“Thought you said we’d talk.”

“Not until you finish that glass. I’m not talking to you inebriated.”

“Seriously?”

He shot you a look from behind his typewriter.

“Fine. Whatever.” You reached for it and took a few sips. He looked back down again. A few folders cluttered the desk, and in your boredom, your eyes scanned them. They looked complicated; legal.

“What are you writing there anyway? Or am I too dumb to understand?”

He offered another unimpressed glance.

“It’s a new bill I’m trying to pass. Except apparently, I’m the only one around here with their head screwed on enough to work on it.”

You waited as Snow pushed the typewriter’s lever, carriage sliding the page as he began writing the next line. You sipped your water.

He sighed. “One day I won’t have to mingle with these idiots anymore. They’ll just listen to me, and obey.”

You took that in.

“Do you feel that way about me?”

He studied you for a second, and stopped typing.

“No. Not really.”

“But you wish I’d be more… compliant.” You stared at the floor.

“Not necessarily.”

“You sure? Didn’t seem to like it the other night.”

His eyes narrowed. Knowing this conversation was a game of chess like any other. But lately the stakes were higher than ever.

“Never said I didn’t like it. Just that you were out of line.”

“And where is that fucking line?” You snapped. “I’m serious, Snow, because we’ve never talked about it.”

“You want to talk, all of a sudden? Okay, sweetheart. Fire away.”

You put the glass down on the table, heavier than intended.

“I just don’t understand you, Coriolanus. I mean, first you don’t want me, then you do want me, then you don’t again. And now what? I don’t know what I’m supposed to think when you don’t give me anything to go off.”

He watched you carefully, and you wanted to shake him, to scream, anything that would give you answers. You stood, unable to sit still, and started pacing.

“You know what’s worse? I don’t even know if you want me here anymore. I don’t know how to act around you because I never know what you’re thinking. At first I thought all this, the whole push and pull, was just some control thing. But-” you laughed, airy and insane, “you know what I realised? You’ve had me fooled, Snow. All this time I thought we were equals, but now I think I finally realise.”

He frowned, waiting for you to continue.

“You pay for my company, if you think about it. We trade services, don’t we? You get something from me, I get something back. I live in your house, eat your food, wear nice clothes. At the end of the day, that’s just it, isn’t it?”

“What?”

You shrugged, tears filling your eyes as bitterness took over, so strong you could almost taste it.

“I’m no better than a whore myself.”

You’d never heard a louder silence. If that hadn’t just taken everything out of you, you’d have begged him to say something. Instead, you just stared, eyes blurry with tears, as he seconds seemed to stretch into minutes, and you gave up trying to read his mind, because his expression was indecipherable.

After what felt like hours, he took a long breath.

“Sit down.”

You glanced at the floor, then took a step towards your chair. He stopped you.

“Not there. Here.” He nodded at the desk in front of him, and you swallowed thickly, stepping around the desk, getting awfully close to him, and pulling yourself onto the desk, legs pressed together. He stood, looking down at you.

“That’s really what you think of yourself?” He asked, voice steady and controlled.

You kept your eyes averted.

“Am I wrong?”

He lifted a hand and brushed his fingertips against your jaw, tipping your head up to look at him. And when you looked at his eyes, you knew exactly what he was feeling. He wasn’t hurt, or upset.

He was mad.

“Tell me something. What do you think I’d do if I heard someone talking about you that way?

“I don’t-”

“I’d have them executed. And you expect me to stand by and let you talk about yourself like that?”

You felt a tear spill down your cheek.

“I don’t know, Coriolanus, you tell me. Am I disposable to you?”

“Of course not."

“But you’d replace me if I left.”

“What makes you think I’d let you leave in the first place?”

A chill caressed your spine.

“That’s right. I’m keeping you here, doll. If I made you doubt that, I apologise. But you’re no whore. Though sometimes, I…” He trailed off.

“What?”

His eyes were on your lips again, hungry. You wondered how someone could switch from distant to depraved and wanting this quickly.

“Sometimes I wish you were. Because it’d make it a lot easier for me to take what I want. If you were, then I’d have no hesitation in ripping your clothes off right here. Fucking you on my desk, or up against the wall, not caring if you cum. Not caring if you enjoy it. If you were a whore, I’d have fucked you in every room in this house, twice over. I wouldn’t let you sleep.”

His hand was on your thigh, the now-creased fabric of your dress crumpling as it slid up. You weren’t sure when your eyes had fallen shut, your hot breath mixing with his as his thumb rubbed against your skin.

Your voice was pathetically quiet.

“Then why don’t you?”

He sighed, tone shifting into something tense, something you could cut through with a knife.

“Because you’re fucking impossible, you know that? I can barely think when you’re around. I don’t know where the games begin or end. I don’t… I don’t understand this power you have over me. I thought you knew, you must know that you’re under my skin. I don’t know if you’ll ever stop playing with me. It drives me fucking insane.”

You opened your eyes, hand gripping his wrist and pulling it from your thigh. You slid off the desk and took a step away from him.

“You think I’m playing with you? The only time you pay an ounce of attention to me is when you’re trying to fuck with my head, Snow. I said my piece, you heard me and you still didn’t care. So please, for both our sakes, stop torturing me. Just… come find me when you decide you want me again, okay? Let’s leave it at that.”

You made for the door, which you slammed with such an impressive force that it even took you aback.

You replayed his words in your head that night until you fell into a deep sleep, and when you woke, you felt like your dreams made more sense than he did.

“Tigris!” you exclaimed, catapulting into the blonde’s arms. The people who stood scattered around you in the manor’s large ballroom spun their heads around at your display. A few even dodged to the side as the momentum that you’d built running down the stairs nearly knocked her over.

A few days of silent glances and fewer exchanged words had passed. And now, you were just happy to be hosting in the comfort of your own home, and to finally see Tigris again. You wondered if she noticed how you hugged her, if she wondered - like you did - if you’d ever let go.

“I’m so happy you’re here. How’s your Grandma’am?”

“She’s quite well, she’s sorry she couldn’t make it. You look beautiful as ever. It’s been too long!”

“I know! I don’t think I’ve seen you since your birthday, which makes me the worst friend ever.” You groaned, scrunching up your face in shame.

“It’s okay! I know busy Coriolanus keeps you with all these functions. You must be going out of your mind by now. How are you holding up?”

The two of you walked to the edge of the room, where prying eyes had settled down after your greeting.

You looked at Snow, stood across the ballroom, dressed in a pristine suit with a champagne glass in hand, talking to yet another group of men who worked for him – ministers and such, a little higher ranking than the group from the other night – and spared you the occasional glance. As if he was keeping tabs on you. It wasn’t long before Tigris caught on and politely inquired.

“I don’t understand him, Tigris. I think he hates me.” You sighed.

“What? No, he could never. He has a soft spot for you, really, and I have it on good authority.”

“I’m not so sure anymore. I think I’ve pushed it a little far this time. I think… maybe we both did. I’m in uncharted waters, here.”

“Look, I know I don’t know all the ins and outs of how this thing between you works, but I don’t think he could ever hate you for doing anything. Coryo – I mean, Coriolanus, he does care, contrary to popular belief. It’s just that his way of showing it can get a little…”

“Fucked?” You offered, and she laughed.

“Yes, exactly. Now, I’m not going to lie to you and say that he’s an angel on earth, he’s had to do things to get to where he is now. Things that even I don’t know the extent of, and they’ve… changed him.”

You rarely got the chance to speak with Tigris alone these days, with Snow usually playing chaperone, or keeping one or the both of you busy, but it had always been easy to slide right back into conversation with her like you’d never been apart.

You’d first met Tigris at a Plinth gala years ago, on the same day you’d met Snow. The two of you had talked and laughed and she had an easiness around her, she wasn’t shallow and judgemental like a lot of the girls you’d grown up with, though you never knew why until many months later. Snow had placed a large wall between his life before the Plinth endorsement, and after. Few people knew the conditions he’d grown up in, but after countless hours with Tigris, you’d begun to assemble small pieces. Despite your closeness with her, you knew from her warnings that Snow had a sort of temper when it came to this topic, so you approached it with caution.

“Changed him how?” You inquired, finally.

“Well… It wasn’t always fancy balls and lunches with him. It never was, with any of us, as you know, but especially for him. He’s… had a different experience. Grandma’am and I, we’ve known hard times, but we haven’t seen what he’s seen. Not even close.”

“What kind of things?”

She glanced over her shoulder, making sure nobody was hovering.

“He’d kill me for telling you.”

“You know I won’t say a word. But you don’t have to tell me, if it’s too much to ask.”

She took in a breath, and sipped her drink, voice dropping to a whisper.

“This stays between us, okay? Coriolanus has… been out there. In the districts, I mean. Before all this. And I can’t go into detail, he’d have my head if I…”

You swallowed.

“The districts? But… why? I don’t-”

“Tigris, lovely to see you, it’s been so long.” A male voice interrupted, and you quickly excused yourself, slipping away to let the two of them talk.

After mulling it over in your head and making small talk with a few more guests, you snuck out of a side door and into the hallways, winding upstairs until you were finally met with Snow’s bedroom door. The sound of voices and music a mere echo below you, you pushed tentatively, and stepped inside. It was strange, being in there alone, for the first time since he’d turned you away. But you paced the floor, looking for something, anything, that would answer the questions you had. Why the districts? Why couldn’t Tigris tell you what had happened there?

Glancing back at the door, you began thumbing through his closet, peeking inside drawers. You’d already given his room a once over, but you worked more meticulously this time, every corner you unsuccessfully turned over only fuelling your curiosity. You walked around the room again, getting frustrated.

You headed back to the door, scanning the place, and retraced your steps a third time. Knocking a little on cupboards and anything that appeared the slightest bit odd or out of place. It was a perpetually tidy room, neat as ever, save for the desk which contained folders you were sure weren’t for your eyes, but that didn’t stop you. You kept on, trying your best not to leave any stone unturned, and most importantly, trying not to move anything out of place.

Eventually, you moved to the smaller desk drawers again, rifling through them haphazardly, annoyed by the lack of evidence you were finding. One of the two drawers had very little inside it, just a pencil and a pocket dictionary, and as you pushed your hand further inside to feel for anything else, you noticed it felt smaller than the first. Shallower. When you knocked, it was hollow.

It had a false bottom.

Your father used to keep his cigars beneath one of these when you were growing up, so you knew what to look for. You felt around the edge until you touched a small, metal handle, then emptied the drawer, hooked your fingers into the handle and pulled. You frowned at first, there was less in the hidden compartment than there was above it. But you peered inside, and there lay two items: an old photograph, and a silver dog tag.

Suddenly, it all made sense. His efficiency, his drive, his orderliness.

Military. The districts. The dog tag.

You unfolded the photograph, caked in a layer of dust, and it hit you like a ton of rocks.

Coriolanus was a peacekeeper.

But why? When? And why keep it a secret?

In the photograph, his hair was buzzed, and he was in a uniform you recognised immediately; if only because of the annual reaping ceremony shown in every building in the Capitol. He was standing next to a boy with dark hair, also buzzed. You recognised him as Sejanus Plinth, you’d never met the kid but you’d been to his funeral with your family, and had seen enough pictures to know.

You knew that the Plinth family had backed Coriolanus’ education, that he became their new heir, a protégé of sorts, but not that he’d been friends with their son. Not that they’d been this close, at least. They weren’t smiling in the photo, stood pin straight and alert in what looked like barracks.

You folded the photograph and placed it back where you found it. Your hands lingered on the dog tag, though, despite the logical side of your brain screaming at you to put it back, leave the room and pretend you didn’t see this. But the louder part egged you on as you pulled it out of the drawer, examining the engraved words, running your hands over the name SNOW and, further down, DISTRICT 12.

You’d heard bedtime stories from your mother while growing up, about the war, the Hunger Games and why they existed, and why it was never safe to set foot in the districts, not even the richer ones.

They’re beneath us, she’d said. They’re dangerous. Barbaric. And 12 was notoriously the poorest, most dangerous of them all.

Coriolanus had now become more of an enigma to you than ever before, and a thousand new questions flooded your head.

You closed the drawer halfway, holding the chain, pulling out a chair in front of the mirror to sit down. You turned the tag over in your hands, as if it would start giving you the answers, if only you looked hard enough.

Why was he sent to 12? Why couldn’t he talk about it?

Despite the conditions Snow grew up in, there was respect behind his family name. It didn’t make sense why someone of his social standing and education would leave to be a peacekeeper, of all things, and in 12, of all places. A strange sort of pity filled you, wondering what he could’ve seen out there. What he could’ve done. It all drew you in as you got lost in a world of what ifs.

Despite yourself, you pushed your hair from your neck, and as if in a trance, wrapped the chain around it. It fell heavy and cold against your skin, sending a chill through your bones. You were so busy staring down at it, so lost in thought that you barely noticed the sound of the door pushing open. Or the floorboards lightly creaking. Or his reflection in the mirror. You didn’t notice any of that, until the door swung shut with a bang.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Coriolanus had had a long day, most of which he’d spent simmering over work and you. He’d kept his eye on you that evening; on the way you’d thrown yourself into Tigris’ arms, and talked, transfixed, and he hated not knowing what was being said. A strange feeling set in as he saw the two of you get deeper into conversation from the other side of the large room, a deep-seated uneasiness stirring him up as he drowned out the tales of his associates’ incompetence. It felt like a breath of relief when he sent someone your way to interrupt whatever talk you were having, pretending that Tigris had been looking for him earlier. He focused on your brief tour of the room when the distraction worked, eyes flitting around like you were preoccupied.

When he saw you dart away from the ballroom and up one of the stairwells, he followed you as soon as he got the chance.

He’d wondered if you might act up today, but this wasn’t what he was expecting. When he saw you, the all too familiar glint of silver around your pretty neck, something shifted in him. Something he’d done a very, very good job of keeping at bay during his first few years of presidency.

Rage.

Your eyes met his in the mirror.

“Coriolanus, I-”

His hands were on you before you could finish your sentence, hauling you out of the chair, fingers wrapped in a death grip around your arms, squeezing as he pushed you to the wall with a satisfying thud.

“What, you can explain? I highly doubt that.”

“I’m sorry, I just-” You gasped as he squeezed tighter, gripping your wrists.

“Do you even know what this means?” He seethed, dog tag pressed between his fingers, chain pulling at your neck.

The forest. The birds. The gunshots that deafened him for weeks.

“I didn’t know… I’m sorry. I never knew you were a peacekeeper, Coryo, I-” He flinched, saw the way you winced the second it passed your lips.

Snow may have been cold, but his eyes were fire. And you were only stoking it.

“So I’m Coryo now? Who the fuck told you call me that? Was it Tigris? I saw you talking to her, don’t lie to me.”

“No.” You shook your head. “She didn’t tell me anything, I promise. Please. It was just me.”

He moved in closer, eclipsing you altogether, grip on the chain so tight he was certain you’d be able to feel it pinching the back of your neck, digging a mark into your flesh. He let the sadistic part of his brain take delight in it, in the way your eyes widened, face pleading.

Whatever this game was between you, you’d gone too far this time.

“How did you find this?” He snapped.

You were crowded against the wall, unable to move. Tears started to brim, and you didn’t answer, he wasn’t sure you could. You just shook your head over and over, repeating I’m sorry like a broken record.

“Take this off. Now. Take it off.” He ordered, dropping it back to your chest, stepping away a little so you could lift your shaking arms over your head, removing the chain. He snatched it from you, gripping it in his palm, looking down at it, and you breathed out in relief.

“I didn’t mean to… I was just looking. I had so many questions. I didn’t know what I’d find.”

“And? Are you fucking satisfied now?” His voice chilled you to the bone as he looked up at you again.

You shook your head. Apologised again. Wished you could apologise in any way that would matter, but it was too late. You’d never been more afraid in your life, anticipating what might happen, remembering echoes of rumors you’d heard, of Snow poisoning his enemies, of sending them to hang. Some you knew to be true, but others you boiled down to rebel gossip.

Now, you weren’t so sure. These were the eyes of a man who’d dropped his mask, and it was like staring into a dark void. You could get lost in it, and never find your way back.

“Please. Don’t… I won’t tell anyone, I promise. You can trust me.”

He scoffed.

Stupid girl. Hadn’t you learned by now, that trust meant nothing?

“Like I trusted you in here? I don’t think so. Can’t believe you had me feeling sorry for you. Probably just made it up so you could lower my guard then turn around and stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“I didn’t, Coriolanus, I swear.” You pleaded. You were crying, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I’ve been very patient with you, little girl. But this is where I draw the line. You have no idea how far you’ve pushed me. And you don’t even realise it, you’re so caught up in your little crush. Do you know how easy I’ve been going on you? The things I’ve let you get away with… I’ve killed people for much less.”

“You’ve…” You trailed off, barely hearing your own words, barely processing a thing. He laughed, low and dark.

“Does that scare you, sweetheart? Does it make you afraid?”

Eyes frozen open, you just stared. You felt your jaw go slack.

“Good.”

Coriolanus toed an invisible line, one that had never been crossed before. You wanted him to show you he wanted you? Fine.

He looked down at the chain wrapped around his fist, but he didn’t pocket it, or place it to the side. He unwound it, and slowly pulled it over his own neck.

Your eyes dropped to where it sat in stark contrast, heavy and shining, garish against his fancy dress shirt. You felt your blood run cold.

“Get on your knees.” You heard him say. Your eyes darted back up.

“What?”

When he spoke, it sounded like someone else was talking. Someone you didn’t know at all.

“You heard me. Get on your fucking knees. Right now.”

What could you do? This was what you’d wanted. Just… not like this. Not when your hands were shaking in fear, and you had no idea what this Coriolanus was capable of.

Your head said yes; your heart wept. But you were far past listening to your sorry heart.

So, you obeyed. Legs all but giving in as you lowered yourself to the ground, knees meeting cold hardwood as the chill cut through your dress.

His fingers slipped under one of the straps.

“Take this off, baby.” He murmured, distant, like he wasn’t all there. Your head hung in shame, eyes on his feet as you pushed the straps from your shoulder, top half of the dress falling down. You heard his zipper slide down, and you shivered. No longer sure if it was in fear or anticipation.

“Head up. Look at me. Good,” he said, when you obliged, “now let’s see what this pretty mouth’s really good for, shall we?”

More tears welled up as his hand brushed your jaw, hooking a thumb to your bottom lip, pushing your mouth open. You couldn’t help the way your tongue grazed over it, tasting salt, whining when you realised it was the taste of your own tears. When your eyes fell open again, you finally caught a look at him, hard and tip weeping, and your brain filled with nothing but want, eclipsing your fear for a mere second, enough to bring Coriolanus to the ground again. He may have done terrible, unspeakable things, but he was still a man. A man who wanted you.

And why did that make your heart beat out of your chest? It thrummed like a hummingbird as you took in the sight of him, unbuttoning his shirt as he waited for you to move.

You’d seen how big he was from a distance. You’d felt him between layers of fabric, and you’d imagined this a million times over. But now, as he stood waiting in front of you, you hesitated, because it all finally felt real. Your mouth watered despite yourself, seeing the mess he’d already made, any more and he’d start dripping -

“Go on, sweetheart. It’s not gonna suck itself.”

Your eyes squeezed shut as you let him past your lips. The heady taste of precum filled your mouth as you ran your tongue along the shaft slowly, trying to start steady. He wasn’t having it. His hand twisted through your hair, pulling you in closer, making you gag a little. You instinctively lifted a hand up to his thigh to brace yourself, and he laughed.

“Giving up so soon? Thought you’d try harder than that.”

He pushed further, and the indignant sound you made as you adjusted only served to spur him on.

You tried to focus on breathing through it, but he slipped in and out your mouth unevenly, and faster than you could think, catching you off guard. He looked down at the way your mouth struggled to take his length as if you were a piece of art, like he was mesmerised by it, and that feeling was encouragement was enough to keep you going. His hand twisted harder in your hair, making a fist, and he swore when you hummed in discomfort.

“Look at you.” He said, strung-out and shaky. “You strut right in here from your silver spoon life, and think you can call the shots? You’ve bitten off more than you can chew, sweetheart. You have no fucking idea what the world is really like. What people are like. What they have to do to survive.”

He moved faster, and you let your jaw go slack. You were barely moving now, he was starting to fuck your throat like he owned it. You’d started to cry again, and when you looked up at him, it was a blur. The furthest you could see was his chest, shirt unbuttoned and falling to the sides, and the dog tag, silver catching in the low light, swinging against his chest as he moved. You closed your eyes again, trying to go somewhere else in your head. Trying to breathe through your nose, to focus on being used, on how good you were making him feel, on finally being his. It was all you had left to hold on to.

But he was unwinding you with his words, knowing just where to press to make it sting, to make the tears fall harder.

“You don’t have any fucking shame about it either. Touching yourself on my bed and wearing my clothes, like you’re – fuck, that’s it - like we’re married or something. Like you’re worth more than everyone else. But look at you. Maybe you were right after all. Maybe you are my whore.” he gritted out.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you tried desperately to catch your breath between sobs.

“I mean, you sure look like it now, on your knees for me, making a mess of your pretty face. So fucking good. You’re sucking me off better than she did, and you’re barely even trying.”

You hated it. Hated the way his thumb brushed painfully gently against your cheek, dusting away a tear as his cock bruised the back of your throat and you tried not to gag around him. Hated the way his words twisted around in your head, and how fucked up it was that your broken brain took it as praise instead of punishment.

Most of all, you hated the throb between your shaking legs, panties soaked through and probably ruined. Humiliation seeped through you as you imagined it dripping down your legs and onto the floor. Your salty tears spilled down your face, mixing with your spit and his precum. Hating every second, until your head went blank, and you didn’t feel much of anything anymore.

You weren’t sure exactly how it happened.

One second, he was pulling your hair, twitching in your mouth and spilling down your throat, and the next, in what felt like a flash, you were on the floor, loud, wrecked sobs spilling out of you as you held your knees to your chest, face hidden. He was on the floor too - when did he get down? - and his voice was soft, oh so soft and gentle, saying something you couldn’t quite make out, dull and repetitive past your ringing ears.

“- so sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I know I - I didn’t… I took it too far. Can you hear me, sweetheart? Look at me. Please, look at me. I’m right here.”

You pulled your head from your hands, and through blurred eyes, you looked at him.

This wasn’t a face you’d seen on him before. His brows knitted, lips apart as he stared at you, like you were some wounded animal he wanted to save.

“Talk to me, sweetheart. Please.”

“I can’t…” You trailed off.

“You can tell me.”

Another wave of choked back sobs took over you. He held your jaw up like you were something breakable. Like maybe you’d broken already, and he was holding you together.

“I can’t do this.” You whispered. “Not like-”

He nodded, brushing a tear from your cheek.

“Okay. It’s okay, baby. Tell me what I can do for you. Just say the word.”

You caught your breath, and he flinched a little as you collapsed into his arms. The cool metal of the dog tag pressed into your cheek.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” You cried.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t realise how far I’d pushed you until… I know I can’t make it up to you, but I’ll try. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. If you want to leave, I understand. I’ll make the arrangements.”

“What? No, that’s not…”

He cut you off, looking into your eyes.

“Decide tomorrow, okay doll? You don’t have to think about that now.”

“I didn’t know about… about the districts.” You hiccupped. “About you. You didn’t want me to know. I ruined everything, I-”

“Listen to me. It doesn’t matter anymore, I promise you. It’s okay, baby.”

You nodded into his chest.

“Here.” He leaned away from you, and you looked up in a question. He took the chain from his neck and placed it in your palm.

“You can have it. So long as nobody sees. You can throw it away, wear it around the house, whatever you want. It’s yours.”

You pressed it between your fingers. It cooled your hot skin like a salve.

“Thank you.” You whispered. Your head sank back onto his chest, and when you spoke again, it was barely audible.

“Coryo?”

He tensed for a second, but relaxed again just as quickly.

“Yeah?”

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

His hand brushed gently against your hair, and you relaxed into it.

“Of course you can.”

a/n: baby's first dubcon scene!! (screams cries and throws up bc navigating that was scary as fuck) p.s one more chapter left!! do we think they'll get their shit together?? who knows!! (i know)

taglist: @superchatnoir07 @itsrainingreid @nycweb-slinger @lookclosernow @etfrin @resibunn @serving-targaryen-realness @harmfulb1tch @demonsnangels @superb-icarus @julesandro @gracieroxzy @slyhersophia @shadowsepiphany @ben-has-arrived @unclecrunkle @zerotwo-sciencequeen @itsleniiilosers @thesiriusmap @ooooglymoooogly @darkqweenn @going-through-shit @loverw1tch @stinkii-boii @tqmqkii @not-avery @natsgf @sleepysongbirdsings @hopebaker @darknight3904 @pemberlystateofmind @bxtchopolis @real-lana-del-rey @24kmar @louweasleymalfoy @m1ndbrand @coconut-dreamz @cosmicgyral @urfavevirgoo @mk15x @theamuz @ashy-kit @violante777 @snowlandstop @badbleep88

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#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow #tom blyth #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #snow x reader #snow x you #attention #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #the hunger games #x reader #x you smut

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russellsppttemplates · 6 days

Text

I'm right here! (Oscar Piastri)

People seem to forget you're dating Oscar

Note: english is not my first language. Another Oscar piece 🫶

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

Cw: jealous themes

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

"Do you think this will translate as well on the track though?", Phil, the head of the engineering department, asked as you showed him the latest set of data.

"Even with the interval we've set for changes, these numbers show it could improve performance, especially in race pace", you pointed to the calculations on the side.

"We would only have it for Miami, though", he reasoned, "we don't have enough time to get this done for Shanghai and I don't think it would be wise to test this in a track we haven't raced in five years", Amelia argued as you nodded in agreement, "but it looks promising - good job, Y/N", she patted your back.

"Would you feel comfortable talking about it in the meeting with Zak, Andrea and the mechanics? You have been the one working the most with this, makes sense for you to be the one taking point. Lando and Oscar should join you as well - I think they're doing something on the Sim", William mused.

"Absolutely! Yes, Oscar said he was driving a new set up and strategy Tom also wants to discuss in the meeting", you offered with a smile.

"Having insider information makes this easier - I don't have to check every single e-mail and wonder about things, especially Oscar's schedule", Amelia chuckled, rubbing your shoulder before she got up.

As everyone gathered in the meeting room, you set your laptop up so the latest data would be seen by everyone as you spoke about the changes, "we don't think nor expect this will be ready for China, but we're hoping to have the new package in Miami already - gives us enough time to work on it and the track there is ideal for us to have an idea of how this could play out for the rest of the season", you concluded.

"I agree - I think China will be damage control racing and we're accepting it as it goes", Andrea stated.

"We just need to get going with these then and also get the guys to try it out on the- Oh! Speaking of the devil", Zak chuckled as Oscar and Lando stepped inside the meeting room.

"So that's that, I think - thank you for all your work and let's hope we can bring some points next weekend", the British driver said before everyone scattered out.

Closing your laptop and getting your tablet, you held them against your torso so you could go and set them back to your station before lunch. You didn't make it very far as Oscar stood just outside the room, his hand snaking up your back carefully as he didn't want to startle you.

"Good morning, love", he smiled, kissing your cheek and walking with you.

"Morning, Osc", you kissed his cheek back, "how was training?", you wondered.

"Same old - went for a run this time, though, it was nice enough outside", your boyfriend offered as you reached your desk, tidying it a little bit before leaving to get some lunch, walking hand in hand.

You didn't expect to fall for a driver, especially after the relationship you had with Lando. You behaved like siblings, often pranking eachother, and it had helped you grow more confident around him and the senior staff when you felt you were all but a small intern. Over the years, you grew more comfortable as your ideas and pitches would get considered and tested, finally feeling like your place was well earned and that at the right time, the development would come to bring McLaren to the top where it belonged.

When Oscar joined the team, however, you didn't expect to feel the way you felt about the Australian driver. He was handsome, very shy and very kind and thoughtful as he sat all through the meetings as you explained the changes. Jeopardising your career was something you didn't want to do, but after some not so careful touches and glances, the team assured you it wouldn't be an issue in case you and Oscar were to pursue a relationship together.

"Here's my favourite team-mate! And she brought Oscar with her!", Lando joked as you sat at the same table as him.

Swatting his neck playfully, you sat down next to him so you could face Oscar as he put his tray down, "I will revoke new updates package from you and you'll be stuck in the midfield", you taunted before you started eating.

"Do you want to spend the night at my place? I need to sort a few things out still this afternoon, but I'm hoping I can leave on time today", you squinted your eyes.

"What do you mean on time?", Lando quirked an eyebrow.

"Yesterday, she got so caught up in the calculations, I barely got a text out of her when I asked her if she wanted to have dinner with me", Oscar chuckled as you held hands on top of the table, playing with his fingers, "what was it you texted me? 'I'm having a breakthrough' I think it was", your boyfriend offered.

"I did, though! Amelia checked it over and we might be onto something - I have to go to Race Base this afternoon so they can check them out", you shrugged your shoulders."We're spending the whole afternoon in the sim", Oscar checked with you, "when you get off, then we can leave together - how does that sound?".

Coming back to your place after you stopped by the supermarket, you set the bag on the counter and pulled out all of the ingredients you bought to make sure the dinner would be suitable and appropriate to Oscar's plan.

"I haven't had a proper cuddle today", Oscar pulled you to him, beggining to litter kisses on your forehead all the way to your cheeks and jaw, "I can't ever do this at the center", he mumbled against your neck, tickling you.

"We could, just where there are no other team members", you giggled before cupping his cheeks, "which happens to be nowhere most of the time", before you kissed his lips.

"I'm going to start working on the chicken", Oscar said after you stole a few kisses, "are you going to be in the Center for the race?".

"No, I'm travelling with the team", you smiled as you took the fresh pasta out of the bag, "which means we can spend more time together - and people will actually see us together", you mumbled the last part.

"People know we're together, love", he smiled, cutting up the last bit of garlic and tossing it in the pan.

"Sometimes it doesn't seem like it - they didn't see me in Jeddah and the rumours flew out of control", you wiped your hands on the kitchen towell before hugging Oscar's back, resting your cheek between his shoulder blades.

"You know how the media works - they see the smallest hint to something they want to see and then they're there", he offered, taking one of his hands to squeeze your hip, "you're the one here, aren't you?", he tsked.

"Where are you going?", Oscar asked as he saw you grab a tablet and push the chair back under the table, "I thought we could have some time together now".

"The stewards picked out eight cars at random to get checked over a few components - Mike and Barry are waiting for me", you offered, pecking his lips quickly, "hopefully they're just not messing around with our schedule because everything is supposed to be how it is!", you smiled before you started to walk out.

"I'll go with you, then", your boyfriend assured, "can't have you go to the wolves on your own when you can have company, beautiful".

Oscar walked up to the building with you, kissing your temple before you stepped inside, "I left some data from the sprint for you to look at, and tell Lando I also left a file for him with his tire deg - I told Will to do it, but he might forget!", you alerted before letting him go.

Knowing how long it would take, he went back to the McLaren garage, stopping whenever fans snapped a couple of pictures or autographs.

By the time you were back in the hotel room after the sprint and qualifying, Oscar went to the bathroom so he could have a shower, leaving you to lay on the bed and scroll through social media.

You looked at the photos the media team had posted, along with the stories where you could spot yourself in the background and spotted a few comments as you flicked through the carrousel of pictures, the comments under it weren't something you hadn't seen before.

Hear me out, Oscar and Elaine are the perfect match

I know, right? 😭 honestly, they need to get together! They would be so cute together

She's so polite and put together, but I get rhe vibe that she's really shy too, they would be perfect for eachother

Are we forgetting Y/N? aka Oscar's girlfriend

I still can't believe the people at the top have let their engineer date a driver

Y/N's way too out there, I call PR relationship

She couldn't even build a great car, I'm not sure why you would defend her

She was literally the reason the car and the turnaround last year and we started getting podiums?

These have been the best 12 months in terms of development, what are you on about? Just because she's with Oscar, you can't dig at her like that

The last few comments don't come up too often, but you had to admit it was nice when they did even if they did nothing to the way you felt.

The green eyed monster took over more times that you'd like. You work with numbers, probabilities and direct correlations, so it was hard to miss the reason behind how you were feeling.

"Why are you looking at your phone like that? You promised you wouldn't work once we got back to the room", Oscar warned, using the towell to dry his hair before he looked at you again.

"I'm not working", you mumbled, locking the phone and setting it on your stomach, pondering whether or not you should talk to Oscar about this.

"That long silence tells me that there is something bothering you", Oscar began, "I'm not saying you have to talk about it right now - I won't force you to -, but I'm here for you when you want to do it", he offered earnestly.

"I'm jealous of you and Elaine", you stated, earning a quirked eyebrow from your boyfriend.

"Me and Elaine? The communications' intern?", he looked for some clarification.

"Yes!", you answered loudly.

"We don't - I don't even spend that much time with her, what do you mean?", Oscar asked.

"I know you don't, but people online seem to think you should! First, it was that actress that McLaren invited for Abu Dhabi - the weekend where Natalie and Naomi kept approaching us because they wanted to chat and there was actual visual proof we were together after all the rumours -, now they're saying how you should go out with Elaine!", you admitted, "they're all saying you really should have someone and that she should be the one to go, that she has all the qualities you should look for and I-", you took a big breath in, "I'm literally over there, every single day of the races - in the garage, sometimes in the pitwall!", you stated, "I barely do any races from the Center anymore, so it's not like people forgot that I exist!".

"Love, I'd never do that to you - you're the only person I care about like that", Oscar replied instantly.

"I know you don't, but it hurts to see", you admitted, "comments people make about my boyfriend and how he really should start dating someone when our relationship is public - I'm there, I see them, they see me!", you let a tear fall down your cheek, "there's only so much I can do to make it obvious, Osc!".

Oscar sat down next to you on the bed, throwing the towell on the floor for the moment so he could pull you to face him.

"Y/N, I didn't know it was bothering you so much, I don't even notice all of that", your boyfriend craddled your face in his hands, thumbs wiping the tears that continued to fall and looking into your eyes.

"I never told you and I know you don't read all of the comments", you reasoned, "I just thought it would stop at some point! Everyone keeps saying that you should have someone and I want them to think I'm that someone - because I am!", you said bitterly.

"Is there something you'd like me to do? That would make you feel better about it?", Oscar combed your bangs away and behind your ears.

"What can we do anyway? Have you walk around with a t-shirt that says "I have a girlfriend - Y/N, the engineer"?", you scoffed.

"I will do that if you think it will help - throw in a headband with "Y/N's boyfriend" too if it helps!", he tried to pry a smile out of you.

"Don't be silly", you playfully shoved his chest before holding his hands in yours, "I honestly have no idea what to do, but I know I want it to stop without putting our jobs on the line", you pouted.

"Maybe an Instagram post from us then? Something chilled but serious enough so anyone can get the hint - and I wouldn't mind arriving into the paddock with you in the morning", your boyfriend suggested.

"Oscar, I have to be there way earlier than you need to", you argued.

"Then I'll be there earlier, I'll have breakfast there with you and we'll spend more time together in front of everyone - as much as you feel comfortable with", Oscar offered you an assuring smile, "I don't want anyone else the way I want you, I don't love anyone the way I love you, Y/N".

Smiling at the honesty and safety he was transmitting you, you kissed his lips, starting with small pecks before one last long kiss, letting your foreheads touch as you pulled away, "thank you, Osc, I love you".

The next morning, reporters were surprised when they saw the McLaren driver show up in the paddock so early, his hand laced in yours as they asked a couple of questions.

"My girlfriend had to come in earlier, so I thought I'd join her and see a little bit of the preparations", Oscar replied before you continued to walk to the McLaren hospitality.

"Is it bring your boyfriend to work day?", Anna asked after her usual morning greeting.

"He's always with me at work though", you squinted before giggling, "but I really need people to know he's mine and that I'm here!", you half joked.

#oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri fic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fluff

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jaylaxies · 6 months

Text

KINKTOBER DAY 19 — SIZE KINK

PAIRING: jay x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cunnilingus, bulge kink, usage of nicknames.

WC: 0.8k words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, angels! here’s my second kinktober fic! i hope you all enjoy reading this:3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! iloveyou all <33

✎ kinktober masterlist

“Oh, baby. You’re so small, let me get that for you, hm?”

You gasped when you found Jay standing right behind you, his hand easily reaching the shelf you were so desperately trying to reach from the past five minutes, the size difference evident.

Jay had noticed just how small you looked next to him, how his hand engulfed yours, how his hugs were enough to hide your body from everyone, and how his cock barely ever fit inside your little cunt.

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop on your conversation with your friends by any means, yet he just so happened to have gotten muffins for you guys, almost entering the room before he accidentally heard your conversation.

“He is so fucking tall, he must love the size difference,” your friend spoke up.

“No, but seriously, does he pick you up and throw you around too?” Another one asked and you simply nodded, your expression displayed just how proud you were of this setting.

Jay entered the room before you could verbally answer though, and he hated the timing cause he wanted to know what exactly was it that you thought about the size difference. But more than that, the fact that you liked it lingered in his mind.

Even more so now that you were trapped between him and the kitchen counter.

You turned around with a smile, grabbing the container from Jay’s hand while also thanking him for the same but he didn’t move, which made you look up at him in question, his eyes fixated on you.

“Jay?” You asked, gulping.

The worry in your voice only added to his need to have his cock inside your tight little cunt, wanting his newfound kink to fully take over his desires and actions.

He was quick to take the container of cookies from your hands, settling them down on the counter before his thick fingers held on to your chin, “I’m sorry, baby. I can’t wait anymore,” he groaned.

His hand travelled down to your neck, wrapping his fingers around it before pulling you into a kiss, eliciting a whine out of you. He kisses you hard, hard enough for your knees to give in. He only parted for a second to wrap his arms around your thighs, picking you up with ease and kissing you again.

“So small, so sweet,” he mumbled, biting your lower lip while taking you to the bedroom, “look so pretty in my T-shirt.”

That was another factor which had him going crazy—how his T-shirt acted as a dress for you, covering your thighs and reaching your knees. Oh, you really drove him out of his mind.

You didn’t mind it, in fact, you loved to see him initiating affection, however, you had never seen him this worked up before. He puts you down on the bed, his hands resting on your thighs, rubbing soothing circles on them as he takes a minute to stare at you, making you feel smaller than ever under his intense stare.

“Please,” you whimper gently, trying to pull him closer by the collar, and he lets you wrap your legs around his waist, kissing you even deeper.

He backs away only to pull his shirt off, and get rid of yours too, wasting no time in parting your legs and holding them in place as you drooled over his well defined body, epitome of perfection.

You wail, breathing in deeply as Jay immerses himself in tasting your wet folds, lapping and licking as his strong hands held on to your thighs, hard enough to leave marks, you clutched the bed sheets to gain some kind of hold on yourself, the sensation of arousal kicking in.

That’s exactly when Jay stopped, making you whimper, tears gathering in your eyes before he got rid of his pants, his thick length coming in view, tip red and leaking.

“It won’t fit,” you found yourself breathing out, causing Jay to smirk.

He came closer, resting his cock right above the point where you needed him, his length on your lower abdomen, your eyes widening when you saw how deep his cock would be in you, stomach tingling at his reply.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll make it fit tonight.”

The feeling of his cock ramming in and out of your body had your toes curling, Jay thrusted harder each time, reaching deeper and deeper, his hand kept on your abdomen to feel the imprint of his cock on your skin.

“Jay—fuck! Too big,” you cried out as he kissed your tears away.

“You’re doing so good, baby. Just a little more, yeah?” He whispered, his cock breaching you, reaching the part no one’s ever reached before as he bottoms out, stretching you deliciously, your back arching as you convulse, making him groan, cock twitching inside you.

“So fucking tiny,” he mumbled, and you moaned, “you like it, huh? Feeling so small, so delicate under me?” He asked and you nodded breathlessly, making him chuckle and fuck you harder.

It was the first time you had fully taken his cock in, and he was going to make sure you feel it in you the whole night.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

permanent taglist: @jaeminvore @macaroonff @ajayke-reads @jaysbiceps @lunalovesstories @jayzdaze @deobitifull @celeste-hoon @mari-oclock @kpoprhia @ikeuizm @woniebae @lalalalawon @blessedcursd @skzenhalove @heesuncore @seuomo @kyurizeu @haechan-nahceah @tobiosbbyghorl @jezzebear @jaehoonii @itsgivingitalian @bunhoons @hyacandoit @luvswonyoung @ma-riiii

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#🎫 — kinktober!#enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #jay smut #enha smut #jongseong smut #kpop smut #jay hard hours #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #jay x reader #enhypen

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starkowswife · 5 months

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R.C / HEADCANNONS

pairings: Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

summary: what it would be like to date THE Rafe Cameron.

a/n: first ever written work so sorry if it isn’t great! please give me feedback of what i could do better in the future. also sarah and rafe are actually quite close in this.

warnings: NOT PROOFREAD, sorry if there’s errors. a bit of nsfw at the end. mentions of fighting and implied towards death but only for a little bit and not at all descriptive. let me know if there should be any others!

SFW:

- he would spoil you so much.

- he sees your shein wishlist? he’s buying it all.

- you grab a shirt to look at it when shopping with him? he’s grabbing it in your size and even checking for it in other colours.

- you could even so much as be glancing around a shop and your eyes linger a little too long on one item and he’s getting it for you.

- even when you tell him you feel bad having him spend this much money on you he’ll just laugh and say “my sweet girl deserves everything.”

- he’d drop everything for you if you needed him.

- you call him crying? he could be in the middle of an important deal and he’s leaving to come get you.

- he’d fight, and probably kill, for you.

- if a guys getting a little too close at a party and making you uncomfortable Rafe is there immediately.

- he’d pull the guy away from you and just start laying punches after punches into his face until someone just drags the other guy out of the party so it doesn’t get too out of hands.

- then he’d hug you and leave kisses on your forehead while asking if you wanna leave.

- you’d always be at his house.

- which means you’d see Wheezie a lot and she loves you and is always asking you to do things with her.

- it kind of annoys Rafe because he wants to spend every second with you and Wheezie’s ruining that.

- but he also finds it really sweet.

- you’d also be best friends with Sarah.

- as soon as her brother announced he actually is with someone and not just having flings with anyone and everyone she was so excited.

- Sarah knew you had to be amazing to make her brother settle down.

- and you and her got along instantly.

- he’d actually be very affectionate.

- always having his hands on you in one way or another.

- also because he’s very jealous he’d need everyone to know you’re his and his only.

- but he’d always reassure you, especially when overthinking.

- you’d catch him staring at you and you’d ask why, thinking maybe you have something on your face or you look bad but he’d just say, “can’t i look at my gorgeous girlfriend?”

- someone would make a comment about you two saying they’re surprised someone like you could pull someone like Rafe and he’d be furious.

- he’d deal with them and then immediately pick you up and you guys would be leaving.

- as soon as you two were alone he’d reassure you by saying something like “you’re perfect baby, they’re just jealous they don’t have what we have.”

NSFW:

- as mentioned earlier, he gets very jealous.

- and he gets jealous easily.

- so if he sees a guy checking you out while you’re in public he grabs you and puts his hands on your ass while making out with you so the boy knows your Rafe’s.

- he’d then take you home to remind you you’re his.

- or even just in the car if he really couldn’t wait.

- “you’re mine. you know that right?”

- “say it baby, say you’re only mine.”

- knowing damn well you couldn’t talk when he was thrusting into you like that.

- but you had to try anyway for him.

- he’d be big on hickeys.

- he’d like marking you so everyone knows, you are his, and he’d love when you do the same.

- if you still had your v card he’d make sure to be really nice and gentle the first few times and slowly start getting tougher and introducing you to new things.

- always down for a quickie, it doesn’t matter where you are.

- he’d seriously just love you unconditionally and everyone knows he’s whipped for you.

#rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe smut #rafe fluff #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron outerbanks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron obx #drew starkey #outer banks #obx #obx fic #obx smut #obx fluff

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rkvriki · 11 days

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˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ enhypen obliviously in love

hi.......lmfao i keep disappearing i swear i'm alive but my isnpo has been going down the drain but i got this cute lil idea also to take a break of all the smutty things i've been posting lolz... anyways hope you enjoy this one !

make sure to leave feedback and reblog! my requests are closed and my talk box is always open so lets talk!

WARNINGS ! none really i think?? this is just not my best work im sorry </3 word count: 1.9k a/n: sorry that some of them, mainly hee's, are smaller than others, my brain isn't functioning and i had a writer's block during this and if it's not goo it's bc i quite forced myself to write this bc i wanted to post sth :(

୨୧ LEE HEESEUNG ! - trying to hold your hand and failing

you and heeseung met through mutual friends in your first year of college and you became almost inseparable ever since then. in the beginning of it, you would only be together when the whole group was, but as time went by and you both started feeling more than just platonic feelings you two started hanging out alone as well. it was usual for heeseung to walk you to your apartment after classes and today was no different. you two walked side by side, the sun almost setting behind you. it was mostly quiet except for the background chatting and the small talk you two would make about something you saw. you could feel heeseung’s hand brushing against yours from time to time and you were internally cursing him out for not holding your hand already. after a few moments of silence, you heard heeseung sigh as he gained courage to hold your hand. his hand got closer to yours but- oh! a light post came between you two. needless to say heeseung was a blushing mess while you laughed at him.

୨୧ PARK JONGSEONG ! - confronting you about it

anyone had to be really blind to not notice the romantic connection there was between you and jay. it was so obvious you were both in love with each other, it was almost painful how one of the sides didn’t notice. that side being you. it’s not like you didn’t like jay romantically, because you do. a lot. but you felt like he just saw you as a best friend he tends to protect a lot. jay didn’t really show it, but he gets really frustrated when he tries to make a move on you in a subtle way, only for you to put him in the friend zone, but it’s all unintentional. every time someone tells you “jay totally likes you.” you’re quick to dismiss them because he would never see you like that. even though you’re the one saying it, it breaks you inside. until one day, you’re both in a diner, sharing fries and a milkshake and you can see jay fidgeting nervously and bouncing his leg repeatedly. “you’re restless, what’s going on?” you ask him, worried. jay sighs heavily and props his elbows on the table, staring at you with a serious expression. “look, i don’t know if i should just give up, because at this point you have to be pretending not to know.” he says “T-to know what?” he laughs at that. “that i like you, dummy.”

୨୧ SIM JAEYUN ! - tries to kiss you and fails

as childhood friends you and jake were always expected to end up dating by your fellow family members. you would always brush off any comments about you two (deep down you wish they were true) while jake just smiled like a fool while looking at you. it was no surprise when jake told his friends he liked you. it wasn’t hard to notice how he felt about you, seen the way he looks at you with glimmering eyes as he took in every word you say. he has never really tried to hide how he felt about you. he wasn’t ashamed of it and couldn’t wait for the moment you realized he liked you, because deep down he knew you felt like him too. it’s funny to him how he’s always making flirty comments and giving you kind of romantic presents and still you just thought he was playing his role as your best friend. but still, even though it was all funny and entertaining to watch, jake was tired of waiting and he decided to just directly show you how he feels. so that’s how you find yourself sitting in the park bench with him as layla plays around. jake takes a quiet deep breath as his hand comes up to brush your hair from your face, making you face him. he takes that as an opportunity to lean down. you, thinking he was gonna whisper something, turned your face to the side, making him bump his head against you. he starts laughing at you, making you confused. “you can’t really see it, can you?”

୨୧ PARK SUNGHOON ! - misunderstanding gone right ?

no one who knew you two understood how in hell you and sunghoon weren’t a couple. it was so obvious you both liked each other but still none of you seemed to do anything about it. you two were your class’s representatives so you two were almost always together and it wasn’t too hard to notice the lingering touches or stares you shared. but something the other students didn’t know was that you two had actually talked about your “feelings”. one day sunghoon almost overheard you telling your friend you liked him. “you like me?” he had asked “no! no, i don’t like you, sunghoon.” you answered trying to play it off. he nodded, his lips pursing. “good, then because i’m in love with someone else.”. it was something along those lines and you two had never talked about it again, but the tension never left. it felt heavy on you and it was painful to spend time alone with sunghoon so you settled that you were gonna tell him the truth. “remember that day you asked me if i liked you?” he hummed as he stopped in his tracks. “well, i lied. i like you, actually. i don’t want things to get awkward because you don’t feel the same but i needed to be honest.” his eyes widened as he stared at you like you were crazy. “are you kidding me? i only said i didn’t like you because you said you didn’t like me.” you gasped and pointed an accusing finger at him “why did you lie then? you said you were in love-” “hey! don’t put the blame on me now you lied too.” “well, we still can fix it right?” you said laughing making him do the same.

୨୧ KIM SUNOO ! - “PFT! who would ever like me?”

you and sunoo weren’t the closest people ever but you two spent a lot of time together since pretty much all of your friends were mutual. still, that fact didn’t stop you from developing a silly crush on him that quickly turned into something more serious the more you got to know him in the very few times the two of you were left alone after a group hangout. no one knew about it except for your best friend. you never told sunoo, not because you were afraid of rejection or him being rude because with how sweet his personality is, he would’ve rejected you in such a friendly manner it would make you think he’s reciprocating the feelings, but because no one like him would ever like you, he was way out of your league. so, confessing was definitely out of question, no matter how much your best friend would insist you would simply not do it. but in reality, it wasn’t really like that. one day you were hanging out with sunoo and your best friend at a cat cafe when suddenly in the conversation you said something along the words of “who would ever like?” and bold sunoo, was not afraid to hide his sincere feelings and answered with “i do.” he smiled while you looked up blushing furiously. your best friend laughing maniacally. “w-what?” sunoo chuckled at your reaction. “i thought i made it quite obvious that i liked you, silly.” oh! who would’ve guessed!

୨୧ YANG JUNGWON ! - heard you liked “someone else”

you and jungwon had met each other in sophomore year of highschool and it was safe to say there was a connection instantly that was more than just a platonic one. you two quickly became attached at the hip. if jungwon said he was going somewhere it was sure that you would be here two, if you were being invited somewhere they could already expect the “can jungwon come along?” question, and vice-versa. it wasn’t strange when people came up to either you or him and asked if you were dating each other and it honestly shocked everyone when you both would always answer no to it, even your own girlfriends found your “friendship” strange. they did not find the idea of a boy-girl friendship weird or impossible to exist but they just couldn’t see your dynamic as friends so it was bound for them to question you. you heard the question so many times you decided to just tell them “fine! yes, i like him so, what?” you saw their shocked faces but they weren’t looking at you. you looked behind you seeing jungwon behind you. when you locked eyes he was quick to turn his back and walk away making you panic. a few days have gone by after that and you decided you needed to talk to him. “i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner. i didn’t want things to get ruined by this.” jungwon stared at you “who even is tha guy?” he asked making you look at him as if he had three heads. “what?” you asked “what what?” “jungwon the guy is literally you, i thought that was settled already.” jungwon stayed silent before laughing like a maniac. “if you’re here to make fun of me you can-” jungwon shut you off with a kiss, making you relaize where things went wrong.

୨୧ NISHIMURA RIKI ! - i don’t even know how to word this one

let’s settle one thing. you two knew you both liked each other. romantically. you just don’t bother on labelling it or directly showing it to each other. everyone around you found your dynamic honestly weird but to you two it was more simple than people put it to be. it all started when you were really oblivious about ni-ki’s feelings for you so he decided to hint that he liked you more than a friend. like one time you were walking to his house and he just shoot “you look cute.” but you didn’t quite hear what he said, distracted by a dog “what did you say?” he sighed “i said you look like a fruit.” “riki that does not make sense, but whatever you say.” and he started gradually getting bolder. “i can’t get this song out of my head.” you told him during class “i can’t get you out of my head.” oh! that was new information for you “thanks…?” at this point you were acting dumb for him and he couldn’t take it anymore so he got even more straightforward. during one of your daily walks you were rambling about a flower you saw on the way and he just let you talk as his hand sneakily grabbed yours, making you stop talking and falter in your steps “what?” he asked as if it was nothing “n-nothing!” he smiled as he kept walking along with you. after that day he noticed a change. a good one. and that’s when he realized you had realized so he decided to just get to the point “is it weird if i kiss you?” he asked when you were eating lunch in the school garden. you put your drink down and turned to look at him. “honestly, riki? yes. do i care? no.” so with that he grabbed your face, kissing you as he smiled against your lips.

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navybrat817 · 3 months

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How often does Dad!Bucky get hit on when he's in the baby aisle grabbing diapers?

A lot, Cia! And you get to see it one day.

The Dad Diaries: Diaper Aisle

Pairing: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You witness a woman flirting with Bucky, but you don't react the way you expect. Word Count: Almost 1.2k Warnings: Fluff, flirting, reflecting, first time dad, slight feels (it's me), parenthood, random woman thirsty for Bucky (we get it), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a dad, okay?). A/N: Next part of The Dad Diaries and from your perspective. Hope you lovelies enjoy. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky doesn’t like to make a big deal out of people flirting with him. For starters, he’s a married man and has made it clear that he has no intention of ever stepping out on you. He would never. You are his wife and soulmate, the love of his life, and the mother of his child. You’re all he needs.

Second, he’s unassuming. You tell him regularly how handsome he is, but he isn’t arrogant about his looks and doesn’t think every woman who looks his way has the intention of hitting on him. He may give a polite smile or nod if he catches someone staring, but will immediately divert his attention back to the task at hand, such as getting those diapers for Jamie.

Fatherhood is sexy on him.

“Your Dada is amazing,” you say to Jamie as you wait beside your cart for Bucky to grab the box.

You smile to yourself when a woman nearly runs her cart into the shelving when Bucky walks past. Not that you blame her for staring. With his luscious locks flowing free, his worn jean jacket fitting like it was made for him, and the sweatpants leaving little to the imagination, you would’ve gawked at him, too.

Which you did earlier and were now.

“Excuse me,” the woman calls out loudly, making Bucky pause as he puts the box under his arm. “So sorry to bother you, but would you mind grabbing a jar for me off the top shelf? I would really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he says, giving you a small smile from across the aisle as he goes to help the woman.

You wait patiently as the lady thanks him with a grin. You get why she wants Bucky close by. Beyond his overall gorgeousness and kindness, he displays a responsible side of himself when he walks through the baby aisle. He never carries himself in a way that says he’s annoyed or inconvenienced by being there. Carefully selecting the diapers and anything else needed shows how attentive he is. And responsible.

You understand the appeal.

Though, you do wish the lady would stop undressing your husband with her eyes. You practically hear her inhale when he’s close enough. He does smell good, but does she have to step into his space?

“This one?” Bucky asks.

The woman has to blink a few times before she responds. “Oh, sorry. The one next to it. You really are too kind,” she answers, sweeping her gaze over him from head to toe as he reaches over for another jar. You have to bite the inside of your cheek when she takes it from his hand. “It’s too bad you can’t help me bring this stuff in when I get home.”

Yeah, it is too bad.

Clearing his throat, Bucky nods in your direction. “Well, my son might miss me if I’m away for too long. And I’ll miss him and my wife.”

The woman goes rigid as she looks your way. “Your wife?”

Bucky smiles from ear to ear when you wave. “Yeah, my wife,” he proudly states, making your heart skip a beat.

Any jealousy or bad feeling you have slips away when you see some of the light leave the woman’s eyes and the sag in her shoulders. It’s almost like seeing her in a different light because you know how you’ve felt since giving birth. At times, you feel less attractive than normal, that your body won’t be the way it used to be. You wonder if Bucky still wants you.

And you want to be seen.

While you don’t know her story, you understand the need to feel wanted and desired. It doesn’t go away when you become a mother. You don’t even know if she is a mother or if she’s in the aisle shopping for a sister, friend, or someone else. Maybe her partner isn’t giving her the attention she needs. Maybe she isn’t with anyone.

Maybe she just needed a win today.

“Take care,” Bucky says politely before he walks toward you, leaving the woman alone to stare after him. “Anything else we need?” He asks once he puts the diapers on the bottom of the cart, giving Jamie a small tickle and making all three of you smile.

“I think we’re good,” you say, glancing down the aisle. You could grab Bucky’s hand and stake your claim as the woman makes eye contact with you, but you give her a small nod and a sympathetic smile instead before you push the cart away. “That was nice of you to help her,” you say once you’re out of sight.

Bucky raises an eyebrow as he glances your way. “I don’t usually say this outright, but I’m pretty sure she was hitting on me.”

“Oh, she was,” you agree.

“Does that bother you?” He asks, brushing a kiss to your temple and making your heart race.

You shake your head as you think about it. “It did at first because it’s only natural to feel that way, but it went away pretty quickly. I have no reason to feel jealous or defensive. If it would’ve been bad or crossed a line, I would’ve stepped in. But you proudly proclaimed that I’m your wife and she backed off right away. And I know you’re coming home with Jamie and I, so why would I let it bother me?” you explain, spotting something soft in his gaze.

Like he’s amazed by you.

“That makes sense,” he says.

“I can only hope that someone like you comes along for her,” you add, your heart going out to the stranger.

The blue of Bucky’s eyes shine a bit brighter when you catch his gaze. “I love you,” he says so tenderly that you feel butterflies in your stomach and heart.

“I love you, too,” you promise before you nudge him. “And you know what? I don’t fault her at all. You know what wearing those pants does to people. It’s like some sort of sexy magic.”

His nose crinkles as he laughs, the sound making a few turn their heads. Once again, you don’t blame them for gawking. “Did you just say ‘sexy magic’ in front of our son? Is that why you like these pants?”

“Oh, yeah. You put a spell on me,” you smirk before you smile gently at your son. “And I’m very lucky for that because now I have you.”

You don’t know it yet, but Bucky will write in his diary to Jamie about how you handled yourself today. How you could’ve stormed over and grabbed him or made a snide comment to the woman, but you didn’t. And that if you felt jealous, even for a moment, you didn’t let it cloud your judgement. You know when to observe and when you need to step in. You know when to lead with your heart.

Just one of the many reasons Bucky Barnes considers himself lucky to call you his wife and the mother of his child.

And no matter how many times he gets hit on in the diaper aisle, he’ll always come home to you.

I adore this family. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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futureman · 9 months

Text

switching the positions

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: a collection of micro-fics chronicling the days of a very eventful week in the lives of you and joel miller (inspired by ariana grande's positions)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, pre-outbreak, established relationship, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, unprotected piv, rough sex, oral (f&m receiving), 69ing, mutual/guided masturbation, edging, mild exhibitionism, consensual somnophilia, squirting, rimming, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy kink, pregnant sex, panic attacks, mentions of parents, mentions of food

word count: 16.2k

moodboard by my sweet girl @cavillscurls ♡

a/n: whew, my pride and joy, a whole two months in the making. tysm to everyone who voted on the poll, and especially to @dinsdjrn for helping me tie this whole thing together and mya for listening to me yell about this for weeks. as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated!

SUNDAY

"Boy, I'm tryna meet your mama on a Sunday."

“She’s gonna hate me.”

“She’s not gonna hate you.”

Oh, you know this woman is going to hate you. It’s not that parents don’t like you. On the contrary, you actually get along great with people’s parents. Your friends’, your old roommate’s, your coworkers'—hell, even your own. It’s just that moms, specifically, can smell fear, and Joel’s mom is going to smell the terror wafting off of you from a mile away.

Not that it’s personal or anything. You’re pretty sure she’d hate anyone dating her baby boy. It’s like, a boy-mom thing. Still doesn’t make you feel any better about your boyfriend’s mom potentially hating you.

“Whose idea was this dinner again?” Because if it was Joel’s, then he can still reschedule or fake an illness or, better yet, call the whole thing off.

“Baby, you know it was hers,” he replies from his spot at the edge of the bed, where he’s been watching you pace the room and throw half the closet on the floor for the past hour. You shoot him an exasperated look.

“But did you have to say yes? Isn’t it kind of early for me to be meeting your mom anyway?”

He looks at you like you have ten heads, but you ignore him, debating two shirts in the mirror, then deciding they’re both terrible and adding them to the pile on the floor.

“It’s been a year and a half. If we wait any longer, she’ll be meetin’ you at the weddin’,” he sighs, running his hands frustratedly down his face. You pause your closet tornado to stare at him, wide-eyed, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m just sayin’, I think it’d be good for y’all to meet, is all.”

Good for who? Certainly not you. Honestly, this dinner could have serious repercussions for your relationship. It’s entirely possible she could convince him to break up with you after the night’s over. Or that you’re a bad role model and shouldn’t be allowed around Sarah anymore. Your stomach lurches violently at the thought. Then, it hits you—

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair enough—but have we thought about who’s gonna watch Sarah tonight? We can’t just leave her by herself, and I’m sure your mom would totally understand that,” you try to reason but, again, Joel’s not going for it.

“She’s 14 years old, I think she can handle a couple hours alone,” he deadpans. “Baby, c’mon, it’s not gonna be that bad. Please? Is it really too much to ask for the woman I love to meet my momma?”

You soften at that. Logically, you know he’s right and it’s not fair for you to keep giving him such a hard time. You’re also pre-judging someone really special to him, and now you feel like the shittiest girlfriend in the world.

“You’re right. I know you’re right—I’m sorry,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. You’re not sure why you’re feeling so insecure about all this. “I just want her to like me, you know?”

He nods, lips quirking into a small smile, and pats his lap. You fall into his arms and he rocks you for a moment, kissing your hair, then your cheek. The anxiety’s starting to subside and you’re grateful for him, your sweet boyfriend who never asks you for anything. Your eyes meet his, and he leans in to kiss you softly, deeply, then pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“I know ya do,” he murmurs, rubbing soothing circles into your thigh. “And she will, alright? Just give her a chance like she’s givin’ you one.”

So, for Joel, you do. Turns out his mom is lovely and wonderful, just like her son, and now you have a lot to make up for.

MONDAY

"Then make a lotta love on a Monday."

It’s early and yet, somehow, you’re already awake and feeling like it’s going to be a good day. There’s no alarm clocks blaring, no feet stomping up and down the stairs. Just sweet, blissful sunlight, and it feels so good this morning. Warm and wet and, god, right there—please, keep going right there.

You reach out to feel its light against your hands and between your fingers, and it hums, sending sweet vibrations up your arms, all the way down to your thighs. Heat starts to bloom in your belly as the sun rises higher, burning hotter and hotter, and your fingers tense, tugging at its soft rays.

Everything feels so much wetter now, and there’s no way you’re not sweating right through your shirt and into the sheets. Even your underwear is soaked, your cunt pleasurably slick and dripping as you pant softly into your pillow.

Then, all of it suddenly intensifies and you’re enveloped by a wet, dextrous warmth that circles and circles, dipping into you, fucking into you, and suddenly, you’re so, so close—

And then you’re cumming with a loud sob, hips bucking with every spasm until something broad and strong splays across your stomach and pushes you back down into the sheets.

It's…you realize it’s Joel. Balmy and beautiful like the morning sun. He groans as you gush into his mouth, lapping up everything you give him, and you’re vaguely aware of the bed shifting under you as he grinds his hips into the mattress for relief.

“…B-baby? What—what’s going on…,” you slur sleepily, hands tugging harder at his hair as he continues to suckle your clit through the aftershocks. You whine at the oversensitivity, and he pulls off to press one last kiss to your heat before throwing the sheets off behind his head.

His eyes meet yours and, fuck, he looks wrecked. His hair is in complete disarray and his eyes are a little wild…and then there’s the giant tent in his boxers and that delicious wet spot that makes your mouth water. He doesn’t respond—just crawls up your body to crash his lips against yours, licking into your mouth, and all you can taste is yourself when his tongue brushes against yours.

You moan into his mouth as he grinds into your sensitive core, then parts from your lips just long enough to pull your sweat-soaked shirt up and over your head. The cool morning air feels like heaven against your feverish skin and, with the sheets gone, you can feel a cool breeze coming through the open window, amplified by the oscillating fan next to the bed.

Christ, he must be so pent up by now. Your brain is finally starting to clear from its post-sleep fog, and now you’re wondering how long he’s been between your legs, eating you out like you’re the heartiest breakfast he’s ever had in his life.

But that train of thought is quickly derailed when his lips find a new home around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth and circling his tongue around the nub until it hardens. The delicate skin feels especially tender, and you whimper quietly as the roughness of his beard scrapes against you. Your fingers thread back into his hair and you tug, urging him back up so you can feel his mouth on yours again.

“Joel, fuck me,” you murmur against his lips, and his breath hitches. “Wanna feel you—please.”

The sensitivity must’ve already subsided because your hips are steadily meeting his and you’re feeling so desperate to have him inside you. His cock feels heavy as he rubs himself against your slick cunt and, while the fabric provides the most incredible friction when it grazes your clit, you want him bare immediately.

“Now…ngh—now,” you whine, and you’re stunned he still has the patience to tease when he pulls away slightly to smirk down at you.

“Needy girl this morning, ain’t ya?” His voice is thick with sleep and so much desire, and it makes your still locked-down pussy clench painfully. “S’alright, baby, ‘m gonna give it to ya.”

Wrenching his boxers down, he grips under your legs to push both of your knees to your chest before nudging the blunt head of his cock against your entrance. He inches in just the tip and immediately lets out a whoosh of air.

“So fuckin’ tight, Jesus Christ,” he grits through his teeth, working himself in and out of you until he’s buried to the hilt, the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against you just right. He lingers for a brief moment, grinding into you deeply, languidly while you adjust to his girth.

"S'good. Feels good," you murmur, sighing contently. He's brushing that spot he can only reach when he fucks you like this, so you lock your ankles behind his back, silently telling him to stay. But it feels a little selfish, and you can feel how much he's holding back.

"Baby...I gotta move," he pants, trembling with the effort it's taking not to lengthen his thrusts. Pulling out slowly, he presses back into you deep enough to nudge that spot again, and your vision goes hazy. "Promise, I'll take care of ya—"

You moan in unison as you flutter around him, and he takes that as the go-ahead to continue, his cock reappearing wetter and shinier after every stroke. His skin is glistening, too, slick with sweat that runs down his temples and pools where your bodies connect.

The heat of him is addictive and it's everywhere—blooming in your chest, blazing between your legs, and igniting something fathomless inside you. But somehow, it's still not hot enough. You know he can give you more, your blindingly beautiful sun.

Wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders, you squeeze your thighs into his sides to pull him flush against your body, and you can feel his heartbeat pounding through his chest. The steady rhythm matches his thrusts perfectly, but he's groaning so sweetly in your ear that you have a feeling it won't for long.

You belatedly realize how hard you're clenching around him, suddenly so close to tumbling over the edge for the second time this morning, and he redoubles his efforts to follow you.

"L-like that, keep going just like that," you encourage between sharp exhales. "That—that's it."

He braces a hand next to your head on the pillow to stabilize himself, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist, grounding yourself to him. His eyes meet yours fondly before he buries his face into the crook of your neck to do the same, panting heavily against your skin.

Soft, brown curls tickle your cheek, and you turn your head to nose into his hair, breathing him in. He smells earthy like freshly-mown grass and sawdust, and it fills your lungs, surrounding you just when you need it the most.

You gasp in his air, hips swiveling into his desperately as you chase your release. He's slamming directly into that spot now, pushing your knees back into your chest to reach even deeper, but his thighs are starting to tense.

"'m not gonna last long," he admits breathily, all but folding you in half so he can brush his lips against yours. "S'too good...gonna make me cum so hard."

"Please...please, please." Fuck, you want to feel it. To feel him pulsing inside you, filling you up so good, so much. "Joel, cum—please cum."

So close, you're so close. Your soft sighs have evolved into something louder and higher-pitched. Too loud for this early in the morning, and enough to wake up the entire house if you're not careful.

Joel seals his mouth over yours, swallowing every noise that escapes your lips as he pounds into you with purpose, dragging against your walls, and it's...fuck, you're—

Gushing, sobbing as you cum, and he groans, long and drawn out, immediately following you over the edge. Releasing your legs, he digs his fingers into your hips to hold you in place, keeping his cock buried deep inside you as you milk him dry.

"Fuck me," he exhales shakily, pumping into you twice before pulling out and collapsing on top of you. "Good fuckin' morning."

A breathy laugh bubbles out of your chest, but you immediately cringe at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you and onto the sheets. You wedge a hand between your bodies, reaching down to swipe your thumb between your folds and procure a glob that you suck wetly into your mouth.

"Very good fuckin' morning," you smile cheekily at the look of awe on his face. He shakes his head, chuckling as he wraps you up in his arms and rolls you over onto your sides. His chest expands into you with a massive yawn, and you're helpless but to mirror him.

"How much time we got until the alarm?" he mutters sleepily, sounding like he could pass out at any moment. You're craning your head back to check when—

The damn thing starts blaring before you can even catch a glimpse of the time. Not that you need to now—it's 6 a.m., your mortal enemy. You glare at the clock like it personally offended you, and Joel only chuckles, pulling you back down with him.

"Snooze it," he murmurs, mouthing damply at your neck, his hands exploring your soft, bare skin. "We still got time."

You barely hear him, already lost in the feeling of his fingers skimming up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. He leans over you to hit the button himself before returning to you, kissing you like you've both got all the time in the world.

Neither of you makes it to work on time.

TUESDAY

"Cookin' in the kitchen, and I'm in the bedroom."

The oven is broken. Probably. The stove, too. It’s really not your fault—all you did was turn some knobs and stand there, but for some reason, none of the burners are catching and the oven sure isn’t cooking this chicken like it’s supposed to.

You don't even like chicken but, for some ungodly reason, you've had a wicked craving for it lately. And Joel loves it, so. That explains why you’re in the kitchen, getting side-eyed by a very skeptical 14 year old, trying to cook a nice dinner for her very overworked father. It’s not going well.

“Did you hear it click when you tried turning it on?” Sarah asks patiently, and now it’s your turn to look skeptical.

“Uhh, the knob or the stove?” You eye the appliance dubiously like it’s doing whatever it’s doing on purpose. She laughs pointing to one of the burners.

“So, when you twist the knob, gas comes out of here,” she taps the grating around the burner, “and the clicking creates a spark that ignites the gas so it lights. Then, voila, you’ve got a working stove.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly, looking back and forth between her and the stove until she finally gets the hint.

“Fine, fine. I can do it,” she rolls her eyes good-naturedly. And of course, the stupid thing works with zero issues when she does it. You give her a grateful smile before throwing the dirtiest glare you can muster at the oven.

“What do we do about that one? I guess I could try cooking the whole chicken in a big pan, but I can’t guarantee we won’t all die from food poisoning…,” you trail off, starting to feel a little useless.

It’s not like you’re completely inept in the kitchen. You can use a toaster or a microwave like a damn pro, and even the blender if you’re feeling especially adventurous, but you’ve never made a big meal like this before. Sarah likes to cook when you’re not ordering out, which admittedly is most of the time, so this was supposed to be something special for her, too.

“It’s the same general concept,” she says, still kind and patient as ever, squatting down to show you a different set of knobs. You observe her for a moment, missing the start of her explanation, because it’s times like these where you can see so much of Joel in her.

It’s that spark in her eyes when she gets to share bits of her well-earned knowledge. To use her expertise to teach someone something brand new. Joel gets the same look when he’s trying to teach you guitar. His eyes shine when you finally get a chord down, and he downright beams when you can finish an entire bar by yourself.

You must’ve zoned out for too long because she’s suddenly waving a hand in front of your face, smiling her dad’s sweet smile as she waits for your focus to return to the task at hand.

“Shit, I’m sorry. What did I miss?” you ask sheepishly. She nods to the oven, already lit and heating up to the required 400 degrees Fahrenheit for cooking baked chicken.

“All good! It’s set for whenever you’ve got the food prepped. You just have to wait for it to hit temperature—it’ll beep when it’s ready,” she says, walking around the kitchen island to grab her backpack.

…Wait. She’s leaving?

“Woah, wait, where are you going? You can’t leave yet,” you plead, still desperate for her help. “What if I burn the house down?”

“You’re not gonna burn down the house,” she snorts, already at the door tugging on her sneakers. “Just remember to turn off the burners and you’ll be fine. And save me some food!… Unless everyone gets sick, then maybe don’t.”

You shoot her a look of absolute betrayal, and she laughs, opening the front door and waving over her shoulder.

“See ya later! Good luck, I believe in you!”

And then she’s gone, and you’re left alone with your misery and a bunch of random ingredients you still have to magically make into a meal.

You slump against the counter, lamenting the loss of your sous chef until the oven beeps, scaring the shit out of you. Oh, great. You’ve barely even started seasoning the chicken. It can’t be that hard, right?

Twenty minutes later, you’re standing in front of a very peppery-looking raw chicken—which is officially disgusting again, you changed your mind—wishing you had just ordered Boston Market and lied about making it yourself. Lesson learned for next time. Like there’ll be a next time.

Well, at least no one can say you didn’t try. You throw a bunch of mixed vegetables into the bottom of the pan like the recipe says and pop it in the oven, setting the timer for 40 minutes and hoping for the best.

Glancing at the clock above the sink, you realize you’re cutting it close on time. You told Joel to be home by eight, which means he’ll probably actually get here at nine, and it’s already 7:30. Yikes. Time flies when you’re trying not to fuck up a dinner that was doomed from the start.

The last piece of the puzzle is thankfully the easiest. Now, mashed potatoes are definitely something you can make. Boiling water? Piece of cake. Pouring in the instant flakes from the box and adding butter? Done and done.

There’s no way anyone’ll be able to tell you didn’t make them from scratch unless they check the trash and, anyways, the instant stuff is better. You’ll go down with that ship.

Now for the pièce de résistance: the perfect evening attire. A cute, 50s-era apron you thrifted two weeks ago that’ll go over the teeny, tiny Victoria’s Secret lingerie set you’ve been hiding in the back of the closet.

Joel will probably think it’s hilarious, once he stops drooling. Hopefully you’ll even make it to dinner, otherwise, the stress of this entire afternoon was a totally moot point. But he’ll have to be a good boy and finish his food before he can have dessert—apple pie you definitely didn’t make, and you laid out on his bed like the best fucking treat he’ll ever taste.

You end up with enough time to take the chicken and veggies out of the oven—the meat thermometer tells you it’s cooked through and that’s good enough for you—and stir up the mashed potatoes before you have to head upstairs to get everything else ready. So far, surprisingly, so good.

You’re in the middle of patting yourself on the back for a job well-done, with time to spare, when you hear the front door open. At eight fucking thirty. This would be the one day Joel gets home early and, by the sounds of dishware and cutlery clinking around downstairs, he’s already discovered your big surprise.

“Baby, you up there?” he calls up the stairs. “What’s all this?”

Well. Guess it’s showtime. You finish tying the apron around your waist before giving yourself one last once over in the mirror. Everything fits perfectly, just like you knew it would, and the food’s done, for better or worse. So there’s no need to be nervous, right? It’s just Joel. Your Joel. He’d love it no matter what, even if it all ends up being total shit.

Taking a steadying breath, you head down the stairs, letting your appearance serve as his answer. The apron rubs scratchily against your skin, a reminder of how naked you actually are underneath, and you let your confidence in Joel’s inevitably wanton reaction make you brave.

And he doesn’t disappoint. His eyes rove over you greedily, from the pout of your lips to the tiniest slip of your nipple peeking over your bra, all the way down to the soft, bare skin of your legs. Yeah, no need to be nervous at all.

“Just a little surprise I cooked up,” you smirk a little deviously as you reach the bottom of the stairs. He’s on you in a second, hands exploring your body eagerly, impatiently, as he leans in to kiss you, but he’s halted by a finger to his lips. “Uh-uh. Can’t have dessert yet. There’s a whole meal waiting for you—I made your favorite.”

He chuckles, gingerly pressing a kiss to your finger instead before leading you backward into the kitchen.

“Well, let’s get started then. I’m starvin’,” he says, looking hungrier than you’ve ever seen him. You return his gaze, suddenly feeling ravenous yourself.

“Good. It’s dinner time.”

WEDNESDAY

"Wrist icicle, ride dick bicycle."

Spin class sucks.

There’s really no need for the music to be this loud. And it’s bad. They say it’s supposed to amp you up for rigorous exercise, but it’s just giving you a headache.

It’s also about a thousand degrees in here, and you’d be leaving a massive pool of sweat on this seat if you were even allowed to sit on it. The whole concept of spinning makes no sense, and you’re starting to think it’s actually just a dance class on stationary bikes because no one in their right mind would ever ride a bicycle like this.

It’s embarrassing, for starters, and you’re surrounded by hot people that are way better at it than you are. You didn’t even know you could gyrate on a fucking bike until today, and they all somehow make it look sexy. Like they’re legitimately having a great time. Having fun.

But not you. The music might honestly be doing you a favor by drowning out your pathetic attempts to breathe. You’re starting to get a little lightheaded and feel like you’re about to be sick.

No workout is worth this. You can’t even pretend to follow the instructor’s directions, because you can barely hear her over the speakers. She probably can't even hear herself, yelling into the void of shitty EDM remixes, and expecting everyone to pick it up. If you’d known this was just some fucked up version of leg day, you would’ve skipped it.

There's no sneaking out early, either. You took the bus and Joel won’t be here to pick you up for at least another half hour. Honestly, you'd rather walk home and let that be your exercise for the day, but unless you plan on jogging along the highway, you're shit out of luck.

The beat abruptly picks back up, startling you out of your personal pity party, and then everyone's asses are in the air again, hips swiveling so perfectly in sync that it has to be choreographed. You're getting the hang of it now that you're realizing the routine just repeats itself, but it still feels mildly exploitative.

It doesn't help that your class is starting to draw in a crowd, likely attracted by all of the revealing athletic wear on display. At least you got that memo. Whoever had the bright idea to put a huge glass wall at the back of the room was either a genius or a pervert. Probably both, depending on who you ask.

Once the hardest section of the choreography passes, you look behind you to check the time, praying more than you think has passed, but you're sorely disappointed. And the crowd outside's only gotten bigger.

Don't these assholes have anything better to do than stand there drooling over a spin class? You continue to glare at them over your shoulder through the next part of the song, looking a little ridiculous grinding into your seat as you silently tell them all off.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch one of them off to the side laughing, but when you turn to send an even harsher look in their direction, you realize you recognize him.

What a dick. If you'd known he was going to be this early, you definitely would've snuck out and waited outside instead of becoming another piece of eye candy for a bunch of gym rats.

Joel looks a little too pleased with himself, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed like he’s enjoying the view as much as the rest of those creeps. Well, if he wants a show, then you’ll give him one. Now that you’ve gotten the movements down, you can put all of your energy into making him wish there wasn’t an entire glass wall separating him from you.

That one, grueling section of the song loops back around, and this time you put your all into it, arching like you’re supposed to, swiveling your hips into the seat with all of the muscle control you’ve got. Your shorts ride up your ass at the change in movement, probably giving you a wicked camel toe, but you let them. You can only imagine the look on Joel’s face now.

The song starts to wind down, finally coming to a stop, and you lower yourself back onto the seat, panting with the exertion of the past 45 minutes. Turning back around, you notice the crowd has mostly dispersed, save for a few stragglers and Joel, who’s panting almost as hard as you are.

Your eyes drop to his pants, and you quirk an eyebrow. His breathing’s not the only thing that’s hard. He looks a little wrecked and, suddenly, this whole workout thing feels like it might’ve been worth it after all.

You hop off the bike and retrieve your duffel from the back of the room, teasingly flicking the glass in front of his face before exiting with the rest of the class.

"Ready to go?" you ask brightly, still feeling high off the endorphin rush. He doesn't respond, looking a little dazed as he watches a droplet of sweat run down your neck, past your collarbone, and right between your breasts. "You doing alright there, bud?"

You laugh, enjoying your revenge a little too much, reveling in the way his jaw tenses and the muscles in his neck twitch angrily. It’s about to be a very interesting ride home—or it would’ve been if you’d made it that far.

On the way out, you pass an out-of-order men’s room, and he yanks you inside, locking the door behind you.

It's a little surprising he's this pent up after the night you had, especially with the sheer amount of sex you’ve been having lately—not that you're complaining. But what's even more surprising is that he's choosing right now to rectify it, basically in public where anyone could overhear or walk in on you. It's...really out of character for him. You thought he'd at least make it to the car.

“Joel, what the—,” you yelp as he lifts you up by the waist to settle you on the edge of a sink. It's clear his patience has completely run out because, within seconds, he's dropping to his knees, burying his face in your heat. "—fuck."

Your legs immediately try to close around his head, but he forces them back open with enough strength to overextend your already abused hamstrings. It shouldn't feel as good as it does, but the pain, combined with his blunt nails biting into your thighs, sends delicious jolts right to your core.

You exhale shakily, burying your fingers in his hair as he sucks a damp patch into your shorts, just slightly lower than where you need him. Your hips buck, urging him higher, but he doesn't allow that either, shoving them back down onto the hard porcelain beneath you.

Should've known it wouldn't be that easy. He's handling you aggressively, rougher than you would've expected, and that's when you realize he's mad.

"Bet ya thought that was real funny, teasin' me like that," he growls into your clothed pussy, licking up the seam to swirl wet circles where your clit throbs under too many layers. "Don't feel very nice, does it?"

His eyes meet yours as he sucks a little harder, and you whimper, tugging at his hair in a silent plea for him to take your shorts off and eat you out the way you both want him to. But he's going to drag this out and you know it.

Joel loves a little payback and has the patience of a saint unless he's pushed past his limit. To your detriment, you shoved him over that line with the stunt you pulled earlier, so now you'll have to convince him it's in his best interest to let it go.

Switching tactics, you tempt him with what he could have if he just gave in. Your fingers dip beneath your waistband, and you sigh as you slick them up against your folds before dipping them inside. You're already soaked, and so tight, even around two of your own fingers, and you tell him as much.

"No, it doesn't feel nice...but I know something that will," you pump your fingers in and out of yourself, the muted sound of wet squelching reaching your ears. "Hear that?—," you gasp, hips lifting off the sink as you accidentally graze something spongey and sensitive, "—t-that's all for you."

And it works like a charm. Your shorts and underwear are pulled off in a single, hard tug, his tongue fucking into you before you can even fully inhale, and you choke out a strangled moan instead. He eats you out like a man starved, his nose nudging your clit with every dip of his tongue, and it feels so potent, you practically see stars.

Your combined slick and his saliva are starting to leak over the edge of the sink but he catches every drop, and the way he slurps you up makes your cheeks burn. Joel's a lot of things when he's between your legs—enthusiastic, generous, and a little sloppy, but he's never wasteful.

Two thick fingers prod at your entrance, and then he's pressing them into you, the slide snug, but easy with how wet you are for him. Finally, finally, you can feel your orgasm building, and you're sent reeling when his tongue fucks into you between his fingers, filling you up—it's...yes, right there—

But he abruptly pulls his mouth away, still not done making you pay.

"Damn right, it's all for me. Ya think those jackasses watching you weren't thinkin' about this?" he growls, his fingers slowing to leisurely stroke your walls as if they weren't about to throw you over the edge a moment ago. "Think they could make you feel this good? Make you cum like I do?"

Your pussy flutters pathetically around him, and the false look of sympathy he gives you makes you want to cry out of sheer frustration.

"Gonna need an answer if you want me to keep goin'," he drawls, still close enough that you can feel his breath, hot against your cunt.

You bite down on your bottom lip, just hard enough to momentarily distract yourself from the aching between your legs so you can respond, but you're taking too long. His fingers have all but stopped, so you panic.

"Fuck those assholes. Fuck all of them," you grit through your teeth. He quirks an eyebrow, marginally picking up the pace of his fingers.

"Fuck 'em, huh? That what you wanna do?" He's teasing you, and even though it's obvious, you fall right into his trap, anyway. Blanching, you shake your head furiously.

"N-no—no, no, no. Just you, only wanna fuck you," you gasp, frantically trying to convince him of something you both already know to be true without a shadow of a doubt. It's honestly impressive that he can work you like this and, even more so, that he's the only one that can.

"S'okay, I know...I know. This right here—," he gives your clit a few kitten licks, the pads of his fingertips rubbing that perfect spot inside you, "—s'mine."

Then, he's burying his face back between your legs, redoubling his efforts, and it's so fucking sloppy. Wet and hot, and hungry, as if edging you has the same effect on him.

You feel him groan into you as you start to tighten around his fingers, loud enough that his chest rumbles with it, sending sweet vibrations up your thighs. The sound of his belt jingling, then hitting the floor vaguely makes it past the blood rushing in your ears, but his broad shoulders and head bobbing between your legs are blocking your view.

All you can see or hear is the frantic movement of his arm, his hand working up and down his cock, and the sound of skin slapping on skin. Fuck, that's—so hot, you're so close. So fucking close—

But he's got one last edge left in him.

You're throbbing so violently that for a second you're terrified he ruined your orgasm, but no, you're still teetering on the cusp, thighs quaking so hard, you can’t believe you haven’t crushed his head between them already. At this point, the smallest touch, even the tiniest puff of air would send you hurtling over.

He's still jerking himself off, sounding delirious as he separates his mouth from you to speak.

"Need to hear ya s-say it...," he pants, and you cry out, angrily reaching down to roughly shove his face back into you, but he resists. Spurred on by your reaction, he only fucks into his fist faster. “Nobody else gets to taste ya like I do…do they? Say it. Say it and I'll…ngh—let you cum,” he moans lowly, possessively.

Joel sounds completely gone. You never could've imagined dry humping a fucking stationary bike would set him off like this, or that a bunch of dumb muscleheads would make him this jealous. He's so lost in it, in you.

But the way he's looking up at you right now—it's like he really does need you to do this for him. To tell him that it’s just him, and it’ll only ever be him. It’s the truth. No one else has ever made you feel the way he does, with his mouth and hands, or his heart, and they never will again.

You whine, shaking your head pleadingly, ready to tell him whatever he wants to hear. Anything for him to put his mouth back on you again.

"T-they don't—no one else gets to, but you...only you," you keen as he seals his lips around your clit, all of his fears and insecurities finally soothed. Your head tips back, the feeling of his hot tongue laving over the sensitive bundle of nerves and his thick fingers—three of them, now—dragging against your walls exactly what you need.

You cum frighteningly quickly, your orgasm so powerful and overwhelming that you start to black out. Your eyes squeeze shut, and then it’s all just pleasure—the tension in all of your limbs slowly bleeds out with every spasm of your cunt, and something wet…so wet, splashes against your inner thighs.

Joel groans louder than you think you’ve ever heard him, the sound practically punched out of his chest as he licks broader lines up your pussy, sucking and slurping, and what…what is that? Why the fuck are you so wet? He—did Joel cum on you, and you didn’t even notice?

But that’s impossible because now his body’s completely seizing up, the hand around his cock stilling as he spurts thick ropes of cum across the bathroom floor. Or at least that’s the image your brain conjures up, unable to see it for yourself.

Your vision’s only just beginning to return to you, and you immediately look down to see what actually happened...and fuck. It was you. Joel’s head is resting on your thigh, nuzzling into your soft, very damp skin, and he's looking up at you in awe.

“Shit, baby…,” he pants, chest heaving, cock still twitching in his hand. "Ain't ever seen you do that before."

You blink blearily, lips parting as you take him in. He's a goddamn mess. His face and beard are soaked, and his shirt is splattered with what you can only assume is your release. You fucking squirted? In a dirty gym bathroom?

"What the fuck?" you mumble, still dazed and a little in disbelief at how your first, and probably last, trip to the gym went. You shake your head, clearing up the brain fog enough to quickly process the past two hours, and now you're in shock. "Joel, what the fuck?" you ask again incredulously.

He has the nerve to look sheepish where he's still happily nestled between your legs post-orgasm, and you bop the top of his head with your palm, eyeing him expectantly.

"Wanna explain what all of that was?"

"Look—," he starts, lips quirking down into that little frown you know so well. "If you'd've heard the shit those fuckers were sayin' about ya. Probably would've said worse if I hadn't told 'em to fuck off before they got into some real trouble."

"Wait, you were the reason they all took off? Joel," you laugh because suddenly it all makes sense.

You just learned the hard way that a grumpy, jealous Joel means getting edged until you black out. Pretty good knowledge to have for future reference, to be honest. Now that you're not sobbing with his head between your legs, it all seems so silly.

"What, did ya expect me to just stand there and let 'em talk about fuckin' my girl right in front of me?"

"I mean, no, but...I dunno, maybe just take the compliment next time and don't threaten a group of scary, muscular men," you chuckle fondly, cupping his wet cheeks in your hands. "Okay? It basically just means you have a hot girlfriend. Congratulations!"

But he only grumbles in response, still pouting like a child. You bend down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he sighs, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

"What if, when we get home, I show you some of the techniques I learned in my class?" you murmur into his hair. He tilts his head back, eyeing you skeptically.

"Baby, we don't have a stationary bike," he says, brows furrowed in confusion. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes dropping to his lap.

"That's okay. We won't need one."

THURSDAY

"You can't imagine what I'm 'bout to say. You really wanna know? You'll have to wait. (It's a surprise, surprise.)"

Blue, blue, blue. Just do it, just be blue! It's a great color—the best color, maybe even your favorite color.

You keep chanting at it, loudly and in your head, but the plastic stick doesn't seem to appreciate your encouragement. It just stares back at you, blank and unhelpful.

How much longer do the instructions say you have to wait? One to three minutes, that's it? It feels like it's already been two hours, but it's actually only been...30 seconds. What the fuck.

Maybe if you shake it, it'll develop faster. It's basically like a polaroid, right? And Outkast has never steered you wrong, so. You lean over from where you're still sitting on the toilet, pants around your ankles, to test your theory but it's too late.

It already has an answer for you. ...Wait, what? Both of the lines are blue. So...does that mean you're extra not pregnant? You snatch up the pamphlet again, actually reading through the directions this time, and your stomach drops. Pink was never even an option.

Two blue lines. Pregnant.

You knew this week was going a little too well.

Those random bouts of nausea, the weird cravings, the fucking breast tenderness. They didn't need to mean anything. They shouldn't have meant anything.

Fuck. Fuck. What are you supposed to do now? You're way too young to have a baby. Well. Okay, that's a massive lie, but still, you're definitely not ready to have one. Or to be…pregnant. You shudder at the thought.

Swollen ankles, morning sickness, mood swings. You’re already a walking rollercoaster of emotions, and your back hurts from just existing. No, you can’t do this.

It's not about the finances, either. You and Joel both have steady jobs and could make it work if you wanted to, but do you want to? Will he? He’s not your husband, not even your fiancée, so there’s no reason for him to stick around. It’s not his burden.

There's just too many unanswered questions. And Joel's already someone's dad. He did the whole baby thing by himself and got it right the first around.

Sarah's perfect—fuck, what is Sarah going to think? Stupid, this was so stupid. You thought you were being so careful. Sure, Joel cums inside you basically every time you have sex, but that's totally beside the point.

You take those dumb little pills at the same time every day, just like you're supposed to. Except…when’s the last time you had a period? Did you even get it last month? The month before?

Shit, that wedding—when was that wedding? Your coworker’s, the rich one who decided to have a fucking destination wedding in Hawaii a couple months ago. It was decadent. You and Joel were super drunk the entire time and fucked like rabbits for three days straight.

Fuck.

Don't cry. Do not cry. Joel will probably be back from picking Sarah up from soccer practice any minute, so you need to hold it together. Maybe you just won’t tell them, at least not until you’ve had more time to process everything and decide what you’re going to do.

But, god, you wear your emotions on your sleeve, and even more so on your face. They’ll know something’s off the second they look at you, and you won’t be able to talk yourself out of it. You’ve always been a shit liar.

Tears start to fall without your permission. You slump slowly to the floor, pants still around your ankles, and curl up into a ball, willing it all to go away—the tiny clump of cells growing inside your belly and the regret of being so careless, of letting yourself get caught up in a serious relationship in the first place. This isn’t something you can just wish away. It’s life-changing and nothing will ever be the same again. Was it really worth it?

No, no. Of course, it was. Snap out of it.

If only it were that easy. Sobs wrack your entire body, and you can barely hear yourself choking on them, unable to hold them in anymore. Your eyes squeeze shut as you desperately try to block out your reality, but it seeps up your nose and into your mouth, salty and unignorable.

Blood rushes in your ears and you realize belatedly that you’re starting to hyperventilate, but you can’t stop. You’re drawing in too much air all at once and it’s making your vision go fuzzy. It’s all just too much. Anger, sadness, and fear consume you until you’re screaming with it, desperate to expel it from your body any way you can.

So, you don’t hear the front door opening or Joel and Sarah running up the stairs, completely panic-stricken.

Joel reaches the ensuite bathroom first and all but breaks down the door, but he’s met with the sight of your half-naked body in a heap on the floor. Immediately, he turns to block Sarah from getting in.

“Hey, hey—no,” he says firmly, wrapping her up in his arms to keep her from seeing past him. “You’re not goin’ in there. Ya gotta give us some time, alright?”

She looks up at him, scared and visibly shaken.

“What if—do you think she’s okay in there? Was she hurt…d-did you see her?” she asks softly, eyes wet. “Can I see her?”

“Not right now, kiddo,” he mumbles, kicking the bathroom door shut behind him before leading her out of his room and into the hallway. “‘m sorry.”

The crestfallen look on Sarah’s face is the last thing he sees before he closes the door on her. But he has to ignore how badly it feels to keep her away from you, at least until he can figure out what the hell is wrong and how he’s going to fix it.

Your cries have quieted since earlier, but not nearly enough to ease Joel's fears. He can still hear you through the door, hiccuping softly, and opens it gently this time, entering slowly as if he's trying not to spook a scared animal.

It doesn't work as well as he'd hoped. Your head shoots up, a small gasp escaping your lips as you dizzily pull your pants back up.

"Easy there, s'okay. Baby, s'just me, don't worry," he murmurs, dropping to his knees on the floor next to you, but you flinch away. You can only imagine the hurt in his eyes, and the mental image tugs at your heart. "I need ya to tell me what happened. Did ya hurt yourself?"

Yeah, you could say that.

You shake your head, the only thing you're capable of doing in the state you're in. Trying to speak would be useless after all the screaming you just did and you can't bear to look him in the eye.

"Hey, talk to me. If somethin's the matter, I need to know, 'specially if we gotta get you to the hospital," he says, reaching out to touch you.

His hand grazes your shoulder, and your body jerks so viscerally that you slam your knees into the bottom of the sink. You let out a tiny whimper of pain right as you hear something small and plastic hit the ground next to you.

Oh, no. Shit. You desperately try to kick the test out of reach, to cover it with your body—anything to keep him from seeing it—but his fingers wrap around it before you get the chance. He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth and you feel your whole world shattering.

That's it, then. Even just a glance at those two blue lines will have immediately told Joel all he needs to know. Now he'll leave and he'd have every right. This is all your fault.

Your cheeks are wet again, but this time you can't bring yourself to care. Turning away from him, you curl back into a ball, ignoring the angry throbbing in your knees as you wait for him to yell or throw the test, or finally get up and walk out.

But he doesn't. Instead, you hear him delicately set the test back on the sink and then he lays down behind you on the floor, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your back into his chest.

His heartbeat is fast. It's racing against you and, yet, somehow his breathing is still so calm. The calm before the storm, you're sure of it. You tense, anticipation sitting heavily on your chest and lungs, and he can feel it.

His lips press into the back of your neck and even though the action is so tender and so Joel, you still can’t convince yourself that maybe you’ve misjudged this entire situation. Or that you’ve misjudged him.

“Sweetheart,” he sighs, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades. It hasn’t escaped your notice that he isn’t calling you baby anymore. You can’t tell if that’s for your benefit or his. "Tell me what you're thinkin'."

Time feels like it's moving in slow motion. You really don't mean to ignore him…it’s just that you’re not thinking anything. Lying there in his arms, your mind goes blank, giving in to the white noise of his heartbeat syncopating your own fragile rhythm.

But somehow he seems to understand you completely, filling the silence himself. His voice lulls you into a false sense of security, or…no. No, that’s not right. It’s real. His security, his safety, is real and reliable, proven and palpable.

“Listen to me—I need ya to hear this, alright? I want whatever you want and if ya don’t want this, we’re not doin’ it,” he says firmly, like he means it with every fiber of his being. You do hear him. But your heart and mind are still rebelling, begging you to see their own senseless logic. Joel won’t stop until he convinces them, too.

“But if ya do…if—,” his voice trails off, cracking almost imperceptibly. At least, to anyone else but you. “—if ya wanna do this with me, then ‘m with ya. Every step of the way, ‘m with ya.”

Then, for the first time since those blue lines appeared in your life, you feel peace. And it's all him. He’s given you a choice—one you knew you always had, but never thought to factor him into. You didn’t think you deserved to involve him. But he does. He deserves that choice, too.

The floodgates open and soon you’re sobbing uncontrollably again, but this time it feels cathartic. Like he’s freed you from a prison of your own making. You find your voice, wet and shaky.

“Joel, I’m scared,” you weep, turning in his arms to finally meet his eyes. And there they are. Brown and beautiful and clear, unclouded by fear and regret, and you let them make you brave. For him and your tiny clump of cells.

“What if I can’t do this? What—I…,” you hiccup through the disjointed thought, “—if I give up…if it’s just too hard...”

“S’why there’s two of us,” he bends down to murmur soothingly into your cheek, lips brushing against the corner of your own. “But ya can’t push me away anymore. If we do this, then we do it together,” and that lances straight through your heart, obliterating all doubt and setting your decision in stone.

Together. You’re in this together.

“Okay,” you croak, sniffling as he wipes away your tears. You repeat it, clearer this time. “Okay.”

FRIDAY

"You might think I'm crazy, the way I've been cravin'. If I put it quite plainly, just gimme them babies."

Doctors' offices have no business being as scary as they are. Bare and sterile, and not an ounce of color to be found anywhere but those creepy posters of in-depth diagrams of the human body. Gross.

You fight the urge to turn around and head straight back to the truck but, as if he can sense your plan to make a run for it, Joel places both hands on your shoulders and leads you toward the reception desk.

“C’mon, we got this,” he says quietly in your ear, likely reassuring both of you. “We go in, they tell us you ’n the baby are healthy, then we get out.”

You grimace. The baby. That’s still so weird. There’s literally a tiny being growing inside you, eating your food, and sitting on your fucking bladder. It’s like that thing in Alien that bursts out of people’s chests.

Great. Well, that’s officially off the list for movie night later, which Joel promised you'd have if you got your check-up without trying to escape. Technically, you’re doing great so far. And it’s an extremely tempting offer.

Movie nights at the Miller house usually include a trip to 7/11 for popcorn, soda, and a box of your favorite candy. Those annoying cravings you’re just now realizing are because you’re pregnant would be extremely satiated by that.

You’ll also get to curl up on the couch with Joel all night in a childless house because Sarah's staying at a friend’s. Win-win. But first, you have to make it through this check-up.

Everything up until you’re inside the actual examination room isn’t actually so bad. The receptionist is nice enough, even though you can tell she deals with a lot of first-time moms by the way she treats you with baby gloves, and the wait time is less than 10 minutes.

Yeah, you’ve totally got this. Or at least you did until the doctor shows up with an ultrasound machine and lifts your shirt to squeeze that freezing cold goop all over your stomach. You look up at Joel, scared and a little bewildered, and he takes your hand in his, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. The screen lights up with what you assume is a real-time view of the inside of your belly and, after that, it’s all sort of a blur.

Six weeks. They tell you that you’re already six weeks pregnant, so you definitely conceived at that dumb wedding. At least you’ve got a story to tell. You’re also entering that fun stage where your nausea’s mostly cleared up, but now you’ll either be super tired or super horny at any given time.

You try not to laugh when you feel Joel’s hand subtly twitch in yours. Of course, he perks up at that. Honestly, you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t going to enjoy it, too. Immensely.

Then, comes the big one. The entire point of this doctor’s visit, and the reason you and Joel are gripping each other so tight, you’re cutting off the other’s circulation. But it’s good news. Luckily, it's all good news.

Your tiny clump of cells is healthy, you’re healthy, and you can go home now, equipped with all of that very calming knowledge. One day, you’re going to have to stop calling them a clump, but you’ve decided today is not that day.

“Told ya it wouldn’t be so bad,” he teases as you walk out to the truck, still hand-in-hand.

But his eyes betray his tone. There’s a seriousness to his joy, and you can see it so clearly in the way he’s looking at you like you’ve given him the greatest gift in the world. It makes you feel warm and…important. Loved. He continues, his voice tinged with something a little softer.

“Thank you…for goin’, I mean. S’good to know that everythin’s alright. That you’re alright.”

You stop next to the car, meeting his gaze with what you hope is the same amount of love and affection you see, and throw your arms around his neck.

“Thanks for taking me, and just…being here. Like, really being here, not just showing up so you can say you did,” you say earnestly, and he leans down to kiss you, his arms wrapping around you to pull you close.

“‘Course, baby. Don't have to thank me for that,” he mumbles against your lips.

Not ready to separate from him, you deepen the kiss, running your tongue along his bottom lip until he opens for you and licking into his mouth freely. He groans as you press him into the side of the truck, his hands trailing down your sides to grip the plush of your ass through your jeans.

You can feel him starting to stiffen against your belly and that carnal hunger the doctor warned you about takes over, the need to feel more, more of him overwhelming you. He’s just so solid everywhere.

Your fingers skim underneath his shirt to feel his stomach flexing beneath your palms, and you roll your hips into his, gasping into his mouth at the friction. You’re so caught up in his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, that you don’t hear the group of people passing by on the other side of the truck.

But Joel does. He begrudgingly pulls away from you, hard as a rock and panting heavily. You whine at the loss, and he twitches against you in response.

“C’mon, baby, I’m not fuckin’ you in a goddamn Planned Parenthood parkin’ lot,” he chuckles, leading you to the passenger’s side of the car. He smacks your ass when you resist, and you shoot him a wounded glare. “Uh-uh, none’a that. ‘m takin’ you home. Owe ya a movie, don’t I?”

You perk up at the mention of his promise from earlier.

“You sure do. And candy, and popcorn, and soda,” you list off, easily distracted by the prospect of shitty junk food. You bounce into the car, shifting the seat to recline as far as it’ll go. “What are we watching?”

“Whatever you want, baby."

Well, he did say he’d give you whatever you wanted. And for a while, it was the movie—you’d even picked out your favorite. But you only manage to get about 20 minutes in before Joel's arm around your shoulder and chest under your cheek become an unignorable distraction.

Now, you want something else.

You don't bother teasing or playing coy, not when he’s so solidly pressed against you, just begging to be had. Your body rises and falls with every breath he takes, and it’s so visceral, being close enough to touch and taste him, and yet not doing either.

His neck looks especially delicious under the faint, fluorescent lighting of the TV, and your lips press wetly into the underside of his jaw, sucking delicately as your tongue darts out to taste him. His breath hitches, but he shows no other signs of being affected at all.

Taking that as your cue to up the ante, you drop your hand onto his lap to tug at his belt, but he catches you before you can make any progress. You tilt your head back to look up at him, brows furrowed in confusion, but he just smirks, eyes still locked on the TV screen.

"You wanted a movie, didn't ya? Thought ya loved this one," he says teasingly. "You can wait a couple hours—I know ya can."

Yeah, you can, but that doesn't mean you want to. He was so into it in the parking lot, so what happened between then and now? You didn't think he liked this movie that much, but apparently you were mistaken.

Settling back into his side, you try to shift your focus back to the movie, but then the hand on your shoulder starts to play with your hair. His fingers graze your neck, and you're back to squeezing your thighs together in frustration.

He has to be doing this on purpose. Riling you up so much that once the movie’s finally over, you’ll be putty in his hands. Well, two can play that game. If he won't let you touch him, then you'll just have to touch yourself.

Your eyes flutter closed as you run your fingers down your belly, slipping your hand beneath the waistband of your shorts to drag your fingers up and down your slick folds. God, you didn't realize you were already so wet. You gasp softly as you trail upward toward your clit, but Joel's voice startles you out of your reverie.

"Should ya be doin' that right now?"

There's a tinge of warning to his voice, and it burns hot in your veins. You open your eyes slowly and he's finally looking at you, his attention drawn to your fingers still moving under the fabric.

"Well, you weren't gonna. What, are you—," your middle finger brushes against that sensitive bundle of nerves and you bite back a whine, "—you...ngh—gonna stop me?"

The hand that was gently stroking your hair shifts back to firmly grip the back of your neck, squeezing just hard enough to make your fingers stutter. He leans in, his voice dangerously low in your ear.

"No, I'll let ya keep goin'. But you're gonna do exactly what I tell ya to, ya got that?" he murmurs, watching as your hips begin to swivel into your own sweet friction. "'n if you're good for me...," he trails off, eyes dropping down to where he's slowly jerking off his hardening cock through his jeans. "...I'll give ya this. We got a deal?"

You want him inside you so badly, you almost say yes before he's even done talking, but then you have a wicked thought. A counteroffer, of sorts.

"I'll take your deal. But—," you start with a devilish smile, and he raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. "Only if you touch yourself, too. Want you to fuck your hand like you're fucking me."

"Deal," he says without hesitation.

"Deal," you smirk, removing your hand from your pussy for him to shake, your fingers sticky and glistening.

He takes your proffered hand but, instead of shaking, he wraps his lips around your slick digits, sucking you off each one and groaning at your taste. What you wouldn't give to have that tongue in your mouth. Or buried in your cunt. Pulling off with a lewd pop, he nods at your lap.

"Take your fuckin' pants off. Now."

Shit, he doesn't have to tell you twice. You quickly shimmy out of your shorts and underwear, and wait for his next instructions. You'll be a good girl for him. The best girl he's ever had and ever will.

"Spread 'em. Show me how wet you are for me," he mumbles, kicking your legs apart.

You spread them as wide as you can. The cool night breeze filtering in through the open window meets your center, and you're suddenly aware of how much wetter you've gotten since you started. It almost makes your mouth water. You don't think you've ever been this turned on by your own body in your life.

Slick coats your thighs, seeping into the couch, and he looks pleased. You can see he wants to touch you just as badly as you want to touch yourself. Your knee bumps into his thigh and he hooks your leg over his, holding you open.

"Shit, would'ja look at that," he breathes out in awe. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

Your cunt visibly clenches at the praise and he hisses in a breath through his teeth, resting his hand on your thigh so he can lean over your body. He lingers for a moment like he's admiring you laid out for him like this, but then moves a little closer and spits a thick glob of saliva right onto your clit.

Your jaw drops, a loud gasp torn from your chest when he grabs your hand, using your fingers to gather it up and swirl it around your swollen nub. Shit, if he keeps going like this, you're going to cum and fast.

Dropping your head back onto his shoulder, you rock into your fingers, slipping through the mess he's made of your pussy, and your body starts to feel like a rubber band about to snap.

"Wanna taste you so fuckin' bad. Fuck you on my tongue 'til you're nice 'n ready for me," he growls, pressing your fingers harder onto your clit. "S'that what you want? Wanna cum in my mouth?"

You turn to bury your head into the crook of his neck, nodding frantically as you cry into the soothing warmth of his skin. You're going to cum. Fuck, fuck, you're going to cum. Your eyes start to roll back as you feel it crescendo, and then—

Then, he releases your hand, cruelly and unapologetically.

"Not yet, baby. We both gotta be patient, don't we?" he teases you again, and your eyes snap open.

What the fuck. No, you're not letting him edge you again. It was fun and all at the gym, but you're way too far gone to be playing games right now.

And how isn't he a total wreck? Both of his hands are on you, even though that wasn't part of the deal, so he can't be taking care of himself.

Your eyes drop down to his lap, and wow. This man has more willpower than you ever could've imagined. He's so hard, you can see the tip of his cock peeking out above the waistband of his pants. And it's leaking everywhere, twitching and angrily dribbling precum all over the fabric.

He looks...so fucking good like this. Fuck, you want him so bad. But that means getting back on track, and it's obviously on you to make that happen. Clearly, he's more affected by all of this than he made it seem.

"Joel, please, just tell me what to do," you plead. You'll beg if you have to. Whatever it takes for you to finally get what you want.

"Alright, alright," he concedes, taking sympathy on you, likely reaching his limit himself. "'m gonna let you make yourself feel good, baby. Don't'chu worry."

"Great," you grit through your teeth. "Then start by taking your fucking pants off."

He chuckles at his words thrown back at him, but listens, regardless. His boxers and jeans are pulled off in two hard tugs, and his cock bounces against his stomach, thick and wet, and unfairly far from your aching pussy. The hand on your neck moves to gently caress the side of your cheek.

"Gonna start nice 'n slow, ya got that?" he says, biting back a groan as he wraps his fingers around his neglected cock. He starts to pump himself, and more precum leaks out. "Watch me."

But it didn't need to be said. You're already enraptured by the way he strokes himself, slow and steady, swiping his thumb over the head on every upstroke. He's panting softly, trying to keep his hips from jerking up into his fist, but you can see how much effort it's taking not to.

"C'mon, baby. Gimme one finger—your middle finger, all the way in," he commands, his voice as tight as his grip.

You tear your eyes away from him while you run your fingers through your folds, still slick with his saliva and your own desire, and then sink your finger into yourself knuckle by knuckle. It doesn't feel like much, and you both know it, but at least it's something.

"Now, follow me," he says, watching your hand as intently as you're watching his.

You rock your finger in and out slowly, just like he said. Because you're his good girl and good girls do what they're told. It’s already a sticky mess, your finger creamier with every thrust, and he groans out his appreciation.

"Good girl. Add another one. Not too fast, now."

Finally, you get some real relief. Slipping your index finger in alongside your middle finger, you feel that little bit of stretch you've been aching for and you can't help but whimper.

His lips part, brows furrowing as his hand speeds up. His eyes are locked on where your sopping cunt is sucking in your fingers greedily and, fuck, he's even more of a mess now. Sweat dripping from his temples, chest heaving with the effort of holding himself back.

So hot. So fucking hot. It's scorching, the way your cunt feels around your fingers as you fuck into yourself a little faster. They're rubbing your walls just right, your palm grazing your clit after every stroke, and his hyper-focused gaze makes it all feel that much better. You want to hear him say it again. For him to tell you how well you’re doing.

"—ngh...i-is this good?" you whine, knowing how pathetic you sound, but forgetting to care.

"Perfect, baby. You're perfect," he rasps, unable to keep his hips from snapping up into his fist as the sweet sounds of your wet squelching reach his ears. "So fuckin' good for me."

Preening hard at his praise, you push a little too deep into yourself and graze something mind-numbing that almost hurts with how good it feels. You cry out, curling your fingers into it again and again as you bury your face back into his neck. His arm tightens around your shoulder and he leans over to press his lips soothingly against your forehead.

"That's it, baby, just like that. Doin' so well," he groans, lips brushing against your skin. His strokes are frantic now and you know he can’t last much longer. "Need ya to gimme one more. Just one—last one, promise. Then I'll give ya whatever you want."

Nodding quickly, face still cushioned against his shoulder, you add your ring finger, and fucking hell, you’re so full. You stretch your fingers apart, pumping them in and out the best you can, and they drag against that spot—every spot—with how tight you are. But somehow it’s not enough. It’s not Joel’s cock, so it’ll never be enough.

Everything’s drowned out except for the wet sounds of skin on skin, and Joel’s voice, still just above your brow, talking you through your almost painful pleasure. He’s panting, whispering tender words that you can’t hear so much as feel with those soft, perfect lips.

“…tell me when you’re close, baby. Can’t feel ya, gonna need you to use your words,” he barely chokes out, staving off his orgasm, waiting for you.

It’s already close, but you’re only teetering, stuck in a constant loop of almost there, and need more. You can’t reach where you need to, but Joel can. So easily and all you have to do is ask. He said he’d give you whatever you wanted.

But you didn’t realize he was already at his limit, and you don’t get the chance to tell him before he’s babbling, delirious with the need to cum.

"'m sorry—fuck, 'm sorry. Need...to—ngh, fuck, need to cum inside you...fill you up...," he moans, and he sounds upset like he can’t help himself, not anymore.

Abruptly, so much quicker than you can fully process, your fingers are yanked out of your cunt and replaced by his cock, and the thrust is so harsh, he hits exactly where you need him to without even trying. The whine building in your chest erupts as a wail as you immediately lock down around him, sending him over the edge with you.

Full. God, how can you feel this full? You’re so unbelievably aware of him cumming inside you and there’s so much, he’s already leaking out of you. And he almost seems angry about it. Your hips are roughly tilted up so he’s fucking down into you, eyes unfocused, and snarling like a wild animal.

And still so mouthy.

“You got no idea how good ya look right now. Fuckin’ glowin’,” he all but slurs, drunk on the idea of keeping his seed inside you. “S’that my baby in you, makin’ ya glow like that?”

"Oh...oh, god, fuck, Joel,” you whimper, your aftershocks still milking him dry. “Christ, y-you trying to knock me up twice?"

It’s like that alone makes him redouble his efforts. You’ve never seen him like this before, but you like it. Something primal in you wants this as badly as he does.

"Fuck yeah, baby, gonna pump you full'a twins."

Holy shit. You’re not sure if you’re still cumming or if you just came again, but you feel an entirely new rush of pleasure and he hisses out a breath through his teeth like he can feel it. Not long after, sensitivity starts to set in for both of you and he stills, seated deeply inside you, chest heaving and eyes shut tight.

His hands squeeze where they’ve been aggressively gripping your thighs before he reluctantly pulls out, but he keeps your hips tilted up as he drops to sit between your legs on the cushion below.

“There a reason I can’t lay down like a normal person?” you laugh, wiggling in his grasp. “Joel, come on, put me down. I’m already pregnant.”

“Just gimme a minute,” he mumbles, suddenly sounding so solemn. He turns his head from where it's resting on the side of your knee to kiss your damp skin. “Didn’t know I was knockin’ you up the first time, just…lemme have this, alright?”

Your eyes soften. How this man can be such a sap after fucking you like that is beyond comprehension, but if he wants this, then you’ll let him have his moment. It’s kind of sweet, anyway.

“Okay,” you reach up to brush your fingertips along his cheek. It's incredible, really, all of the things you see in Joel's eyes right now. That in this single, fleeting gaze, you can see forever. "Put a baby in me.”

SATURDAY

"Can you stay up all night? Fuck me 'til the daylight. 34, 35."

You’re convinced Joel tastes especially good in the mornings. There’s a hint of sweat to his skin, so naturally bitter and heady, maybe even a little tangy. It’s fucking delicious.

And he’s always hard in the morning. His cock is the perfect alarm clock, always reliable and super effective, whether it’s pulsing against your thigh or rutting into your ass. It’s your favorite way to wake up, but there’s usually not enough time to enjoy it to the fullest.

Not with work and Sarah, even Tommy showing up for breakfast unannounced. But it’s Saturday, which means you can keep your lips wrapped around him for as long as you want, make him cum as many times as you want, and taste him to your heart’s content.

He probably won’t even wake up, at least not right away. Joel sleeps like the dead, especially on the weekends, and it’s been a long week. Even now, as you suck the tip into your wet, very eager mouth and swallow him down halfway, he barely stirs.

That’s more than okay with you. You’d be happy to lie in bed, head pillowed on his stomach, keeping his cock warm between your lips while you wait. Relishing how fucking good he tastes and how your jaw pleasantly aches as you adjust to accommodate his girth.

But, soon enough, your jaw isn’t the only thing aching. The slick mess you’re making in your underwear right now is getting hard to ignore, but you don’t want to let him go. He’s velvety smooth against your tongue, dribbling salty precum down your throat, and his unconscious body is starting to respond to you more and more with each passing moment. This is your favorite part.

He lets out a soft grunt, twitching into the inside of your cheek, and your efforts become a little more concentrated and a lot more obvious. You try to forget about your soaked underwear and the pleasurable whoosh in your belly in favor of sucking a little harder, letting saliva pool in your mouth as you slurp loudly around the head.

His hips jerk up, surprising you enough to gag you, and that only makes your mouth and pussy wetter, the heat building in your core almost unbearable now. The moan that escapes you sends a drawn-out series of vibrations straight down to his balls that pulls even more noise from him, and your head steadily shifts with the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

He's starting to rut into your mouth, whimpering, and yet somehow still asleep, and it makes you feel powerful to have full control over him like this. To command his pleasure without any interruption or intervention, making him fall apart entirely at your mercy. You kind of hope you can get him to cum like this, to be his alarm clock for once.

Turns out only half of your wish is granted, but you don't realize it until Joel's fingers are threading into your hair and abruptly tugging you off. He's definitely awake now, but he also definitely didn't cum. Bummer. You try sucking him back into your mouth, but he tugs you harder even as his hips chase you.

"Joel, what—?" you glare up at him, but upon seeing him, you feel a little bad for your reaction. He looks so sleepy, still a little dazed from his unconventional wake-up call, blinking blearily like he's doing his best to stay awake. Your expression softens.

"Sorry, got a little carried away," you murmur sheepishly. "But, um, you taste really good, so if you wanna go back to sleep, I can just keep—"

You're cut off by a hand trailing down your body, following the curve of your ass to dip inside you. He smears the moisture around your entrance, pushing two fingers into you, then pulling out to hold them up to his face. You watch him, enraptured by the way he inspects your wetness, how it strings between his middle and ring fingers.

Then, he surprises you even further by sucking them into his mouth, his eyes rolling back as he groans around them before slipping them out totally clean. His cock jerks next to your face and you belatedly realize you're drooling.

"Fuck, so do you." He's fully awake now, eyes clear, but dark. Hungry.

"Huh?" you ask dumbly.

"Ya taste really good," he mumbles, his voice low and so sexy, still thick with sleep. You feel your cheeks heat up. Oh.

"C'mere, baby," he tells you, patting his chest. You crawl up his body and lean up to kiss him, assuming he wants you to taste yourself in his mouth, but he stops you. "Other way, sweetheart."

Your brows furrow in confusion as you try to work out exactly what he's asking for. Even though you've been awake and riling him up for what feels like hours, your brain clearly hasn't caught up yet. His eyes are unreadable, fingers tense at his sides. Like he's just itching for you to understand.

"Need you to figure this out—know you can do it," he rasps needily. "C'mon, smart girl, what do I want?"

And then it hits you. He's not asking you to sit on his chest, not really. He wants you to sit on his face. Needs you to. Sprawled out on your hands and knees where his spit-slick cock would be just within reach, bobbing temptingly with every breath he takes.

God, you want to. The idea of Joel fucking you with his tongue while he's fucking into your mouth makes you clench so hard it hurts. You bite your lip, meeting his expectant gaze.

Okay. Okay, you can definitely do that. Especially when he looks so...eager. It also has the double advantage of combining mind-blowing sex with a well-rounded breakfast. You have a feeling you'll both be full after this.

"Just so I have this straight—," you splay your fingers across his stomach, trailing down to wrap tightly around his length and tug upward until a single, perfect bead of precum leaks from his slit, "—you still want my mouth here."

Your eyes stay locked on his as you bend down to lick it off, lingering to suckle the tip and tease your tongue just under the ridge. When he doesn't immediately tug you off, you take him deeper, preening at his harsh intake of breath.

You don't want to press your luck, but he tastes fucking incredible, somehow even better than he did earlier. Maybe it's the way he's watching you, captivated and attuned to your every movement.

He’s already starting to buck into you, shallowly, now an active participant in his own pleasure. His knuckles are nearly white with how hard he’s fisting the sheets, teeth gritting as he fights the urge to rush you.

But his patience is wearing thin. Just a few thrusts later, he tugs you off with what feels like dwindling restraint, and your dazed, glassy eyes don't do much to help.

You look wrecked, and you know it. Lips swollen and slick with saliva, your lashes wet with unshed tears from the effort of taking him. He reaches out to trace your bottom lip with his thumb, hissing when you catch the tip between your teeth.

“Yeah...ngh—yeah, keep doin' that. Suckin' me just like that," he breathes raggedly. "And sit that pretty pussy right here—"

Then, without warning, he's suddenly manhandling you into position, throwing your leg over his head, and maneuvering you until you can feel him panting heavily against your cunt.

“Down, baby, let's go. Wanna taste ya. Now.”

Blunt nails dig into your skin and your hips stutter, dipping low enough for your clit to brush his bottom lip. It’s enough for him to get a taste of you. For him to finally snap and decide he’s done waiting.

Joel yanks you onto his face, licking a wide stripe from your clit to your entrance, his tongue immediately finding a home in your pussy. The motion knocks you off balance and you fall forward, his cock just inches from your mouth.

Bracing a hand on his stomach, you wrap your other around him and he groans throatily in response, the sound deep and muffled as he licks into you with increased fervor. And his noises only grow in volume, vibrating against your folds and sending jolt after jolt into your very sensitive bundle of nerves.

His mouth feels so fucking hot, and the coarseness of his beard burns, making it hard to concentrate on what you’re desperately trying to accomplish. You’re already panting, hiccuped breaths puffing teasingly and cruelly against him until he’s pulsing in your grip.

The promise of him throbbing just like that down your throat makes you focus just long enough to take him back into your mouth, intent on sucking him down as far as your body will let you. But, by now, any sense of self-control he might’ve had before is totally gone. His hips buck clean off the mattress at the tightness of your lips around him, and he all but chokes you with the force of it, the size of him.

And, fuck, you love it. The way his stomach tenses, his thighs trembling beneath you. You can’t tell where your body ends and his begins, not when he’s fucking into you every single way he can. His tongue spears into you and your pussy rhythmically squeezes him every time his cock grazes the back of your throat.

You’re audibly gagging around him and it’s filthy as hell, but you can tell how much it’s turning him on. Christ, can you tell. Maybe you were genuinely worried you’d suffocate him at first but, now, you probably couldn’t stop yourself from grinding into his face even if you tried. And that's exactly what he wants.

"...Harder—mmph, c'mon, baby," you feel him groan into your cunt, urging your hips even lower. "—ride me harder, harder."

How—he...fuck, he's...? Everywhere. He's everywhere. You struggle to do what he told you, to use him for your mounting pleasure, but it doesn't fucking matter anymore. You're helpless but to let him do whatever he wants to you.

Joel’s devouring you. Roughly grabbing your ass, moaning pathetically into you as he pulls your cheeks apart for better access. It’s almost like you can feel him swelling between your lips, and you try to pull up for just a second of respite.

But, then, he abruptly shifts. His mouth lowers to suck gently, yet fleetingly on your clit twice, then he licks a wide stripe back up to your entrance. Except, he doesn’t stop there. Instead, he continues his path up, gathering your wetness as he goes, and swirls his tongue around your other hole before sucking hard. And it sends you reeling.

Jesus fucking Christ, that’s new. Fuck, and it’s—so...so good. It’s indescribable, how he feels right now. How he sounds—slurping you up, whimpering desperately like he’ll cum at any moment.

And he’s loud, drawn-out moans escaping from so deep within his chest, they climb their way from that tight ring of muscle straight up your spine, where you can vaguely feel his arm snaking around you to claw at your back. You can’t think anymore—you’re done thinking.

Now, it’s just him trapping you in place, the three fingers he’s suddenly pumping into your spasming pussy, and his cock, now abandoned and leaking on his stomach. It’s so much, bordering on too much, and you can’t hold yourself up anymore.

Your head drops unceremoniously onto the puddle of precum and it smears across your cheek as his hips urgently roll into nothing. But you don’t even notice. Not even when your eyes roll back and you start to babble deliriously, your orgasm building quickly in a place between your legs you can’t even begin to explain.

“Joel…JoelJoelJoel—I…you…,” you slam a hand down on the mattress as your thighs start to quake violently. “…cumming—‘m cumming, fuck—fuck.”

It doesn’t just crash over you, it rocks you to your core. Everything below your waist locks down, squeezing his fingers so tight, you swear you can feel each individual knuckle. Your jaw drops, parting around what feels like a silent scream, but you can’t be totally sure because soon, Joel is groaning so gutturally, you can’t focus on anything else.

At least, until he cums completely untouched right into your face. And he cums hard. Thick spurts cover your lips and chin, landing haphazardly on your cheek, and your tongue darts out to taste him, salty and sated and perfect. Exactly what you've been waiting for.

His thighs tense intermittently, a few more drops dribbling out of his slit, and you crane your neck, letting your tongue flutter over his head. As it pulses weakly against your lips, Joel gasps out your name, burying his face in your swollen pussy again.

Lazily, you swivel your hips into his mouth despite the extreme overstimulation, hiccuping soft moans and nearly succumbing to the easy pleasure. He gently caresses your clit, enveloping you with a dextrous warmth that simultaneously makes you jolt and crave the sensation.

Neither of you want to stop. Truthfully, you'd let him do this to you all day, drawing orgasm after orgasm from each other the way you have been all week. But exhaustion's starting to set in and you're not sure your body can physically take any more.

Joel slaps your ass and you huff out a soft laugh, deciding it's time to separate so you can get cozy with him again. The perfect end to your surprisingly athletic, lazy Saturday morning in bed.

“You gonna stop anytime soon, or do you just live there now?” you pant teasingly, grimacing as you slowly lift your head off his stomach.

Shit, you’re a mess. You’re practically stuck to him, his cum drying on his stomach and your face, and you can feel the stickiness of his saliva mixed with your juices dripping between your legs. His hand trails from your ass down to your inner thigh, painting mindless patterns on your sullied skin.

"Sure don't seem like ya want me to stop," he chuckles tiredly, managing to suck your clit chastely one last time before you jerk your hips away.

His head finally drops onto the pillow below him, and he lets out a disgruntled whine when you toss your leg over his head, plopping down on the bed beside him.

"Yeah, well, one of us has to have a little self-control or we're not leaving this bed today. And you, uh, look like you could use some tidying up,” you snort, scratching your fingertips against his already crusting beard. He mimics the motion on your leg, and you swat his hand away, rolling your eyes fondly.

It would be disgusting if it were literally anyone else but Joel but, here in this bed—your bed—it feels so natural. Like it’s totally normal that you’d be covered in each other’s releases, having a silly conversation on a Saturday morning as if you’ve done this all your lives.

“Might wanna look in the mirror, baby. I’d be more’n happy to keep lookin’ at ya like this, but—,” he leans up to wipe a streak of cum off your bottom lip. His hand lingers, cupping your damp cheek, and you instinctively lean into his touch. “—you probably need more cleanin’ up than I do.”

You eye each other for a few seconds, taking in how truly disgusting you both are, before bursting into fits of laughter. You’re smiling so hard, your skin tugs under his drying release and that makes you laugh even harder.

“Alright, alright, filthy girl,” he jokes, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “Lay down, I’ll take care of ya.”

He sits up and slowly slides off the bed, yanking your legs out from under you as he goes. Still giggling, you flop onto the damp, cotton sheets with an oomph and immediately take the opportunity to stretch out your sore limbs. You nuzzle into your pillow with a soft mewl, practically purring as you try to soak up the warm morning rays streaming through the gaps in the curtains.

You glance over at Joel as you continue to nest like a gigantic cat, but he's already watching you, paused in the doorway to the bathroom. His eyes rove appreciatively down your naked body and you observe him quietly, deciding you'll let him stare for as long as he wants to. There's no rush. Sure, you're still a mess and probably have the worst bedhead imaginable, but despite it all, he makes you feel beautiful.

When he returns with a cool, damp washcloth a few minutes later, he's much cleaner and you're only a little bummed that the evidence of your explosive morning is gone. He's gentle and attentive as he wipes the remaining streaks off your cheeks and chin, and bends down to kiss you once your face is officially cum-free.

Okay, maybe you lied earlier. This is your favorite part. Joel taking care of you, choosing to express his affection through his actions and touch. You sigh into his mouth, melting into the first real kiss you've shared since waking up, and it takes his tongue tangling with yours for you to realize he tastes minty. He's always so delicious.

Trailing further down, he wipes his release off your stomach, pressing his lips to each freshly-cleaned inch of skin, and then crawls between your legs to wash away the mess he made of your thighs. Your eyes start to flutter closed at the repetitive shift in sensation, his hands lulling you to sleep, until the washcloth hits the floor with a dull splat.

Well, that was over way too soon. But you quickly forgive the horrible transgression once his warm, welcome body sinks into the bed next to you, and his tousled head of hair and beard nuzzle into your stomach.

He mouths at your skin, his lips pressing sweetly around your belly button, and it tickles, making you laugh as you thread your fingers through his curls and scratch his scalp affectionately.

After a moment of comfortable silence, his hand splays warm and broad next to his head. His expression shifts and he looks unexpectedly pensive. Uncertainty creeps into your chest before you can logic it away, even though you know without a doubt that he wants this. His lips begin to move against your stomach and it takes a second for you to realize he's saying something, almost too quietly for you to hear. But when it finally registers, all of that fear completely fades away.

"Hey there, kiddo. It's me, your daddy," he murmurs, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin as soothing as his words. He has the tiniest smile on his face, and it's growing wider by the second. "We're all so excited to meet ya. Me, your momma, your big sister, your uncle...we already love ya so damn much."

The room starts to blur into a wash of colors and figures, and shit, you're crying. But how could you not be? He's...talking to your tiny clump of cells. To your baby—who can't possibly be bigger than a pumpkin seed—with so much adoration, it makes your chest ache.

You're trying so hard not to tremble or sniffle or breathe too heavily so you don't startle him, but that doesn't exactly work out. A few stray tears make their way up your nose, and you snort around your next inhale. Classic, clumsy you.

Joel's head shoots up like he's been caught and his cheeks flush that beautiful shade of burgundy you love so much. You don't want him to stop, but he looks so embarrassed like he thinks he's done something wrong. That couldn't be further from the truth.

"I'm just emotional from the hormones, it's totally fine. I'm totally fine," you give him a reassuring, watery grin. "Keep going. I think they like the sound of daddy's voice."

He chuckles and reaches up to wipe your tears away, gently cradling your face in his hand before he slides it back down to your belly. He continues where he left off, just like you asked, but you have a sneaking suspicion he would've anyway. Joel's just one of those men who was born to be a dad. It comes as naturally to him as breathing.

“Heard that? That's your momma, kiddo. She's....well. She's somethin' else. Strongest, most lovin', person I've ever known and fuckin' sharp as a tack," he smiles up at you, eyes crinkling and bright as the goddamn sun. "And she's beautiful. She even sounds beautiful, don't she? Hopin' you'll come out just like her."

You scoff affectionately, shaking your head as you share a look that tells you he knows exactly what you're thinking. If this baby pops out without his brown eyes and curls, you're going to be so pissed. You teasingly tug his hair, willing him to take it back, but he won't. If your baby's getting anything from the two of you, it's stubbornness.

Then, before you can blink, there's a sudden tone shift. His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together, and he turns his head so he's speaking directly into your belly. An exchange just between a father and his child.

"Wanna know a secret? S'just between you and me, though, alright? Don't go tellin' your momma," he says nosing into your soft skin, his voice barely above a whisper. You watch him curiously, squeezing his hand to get his attention, but his focus remains on your stomach. "'m gonna ask your momma to marry me. Think she'll say yes?"

Your heart stops and it feels like all of the air's been sucked out of the room. That's—fuck...that's one hell of a secret to share with your baby. You can't even imagine the kind of trouble they're going to get up to if they're already keeping secrets like that.

His eyes flit up to meet yours, but they're not questioning or expectant. He isn't wondering what your answer will be. He just looks peaceful. Blanketed in an easy calm because he already knows what you're going to say. Of course, he does.

Propping his chin on your hip, Joel quietly observes your reaction while he strokes the back of your hand with the rough pad of his thumb. You wonder what he sees on your face and in your body language right now because you're positive it's not the elation or excessive joy anyone else would expect.

You're not squealing or jumping up and down, or whatever newly engaged people usually do. No, that blanket of easy calm is more than big enough for both of you, and it feels safe and warm, just like you always knew this moment would.

And you wouldn't want it any other way. Lying here together after possibly the most eventful week of your lives, filled with so much sex and love and family, and deciding that you want to keep doing this together, over and over. Forever.

You guide his hand up to your lips, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to his palm, before placing it over your racing heart. That tiny smile returns to his face and he crawls up your body so he can kiss you properly, conveying his love better than words ever could.

It's still way too early for your baby to kick or give their daddy any sort of sign that they heard his question, but you're sure they wouldn't mind if you answered for them. It's a no-brainer, anyway.

"Yeah, I do."

thanks for reading! 💕

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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