#whatever you followed me for--i hope you're enjoying the ride

[frogchiro]

HII HII ur writing is perf 4 this idea but you don’t hav 2 do it !! i js thought of u <3 little red riding hood reader & big bad wolf (ko, ghost, price) any cod guy & i think it’s js soo cute !!!

[art by doujinpearl]

ARE YOU KIDDING ME THIS IS SO CUTE??? YOU NEVER MISS LOVE!!! And thank you it really means a lot to me that you like my silly writing <33

tw// horror elements and this has like one mention of a 'off-screen' death but no one major

I think I'm gonna go with König for this one?? Bc something about him just screams big bad wolf to me y'know? Also for the sake of this story, König is described like on the pics above, so his lower half is life a literal werewolf.

okay also i'm putting this under the cut because this somehow grew into a whole fic?? My dear @9irly9irl if you see this know that I love you and this was so. freaking. enjoyable to write??? I love this so much??? Also I'm sorry for the horror themes but I'm getting ready for October and the gloomy weather outside made me do this. I hope you still enjoy and PLEASE send me more for this au!!

Big bad wolf König who is on the prowl for some time now, he's on a hunt for you, the sweet girl who lives alone with her mother on the edge of the dark forest your good old momma always tells you to stay away from and for good reason. The townsfolk from the villages around whisper in fear and dread about a monster lurking in the woods, half man-half wolf with an insatiable taste for blood; they call the beast König, the undisputed King.

And honestly? König likes that rep. It means less annoying pests wandering around his territory safe for a groups of young guys from time to time who think they have the balls to try and 'kill the beast' but they are dealt with...pretty quickly.

But no, König has his glowing eyes set on something more...Exquisite. On something soft and pliable, sweet smelling and so so pretty. Namely on you. The werewolf guesses he has to be thanking his lucky starts or whatever bullshit that while sniffing around your cottage he overheard your mother talking about going out into the forest to bring her sickly mother, your grandma, a basket full of food and some other supplies and being the sweet little thing that you are, you of course cried and volunteered to go yourself, that your mother is already older and that you will make quick work of it.

König swears that day that his blood never rushed downward to his dick so fast. You, soft little you, all alone in his forest? His territory?? It's like you're begging to get taken and mated! The trek from your cottage to your grandma's home would take you about 2-3 days as she lives deep in the woods, the perfect timing for him to reveal himself and take you away for himself into his den in the darkest parts of the forest where you will have the perfect life with him! No more worrying about food or warmth during the cold, dreary winter months, he is more than a capable provider for his future mate, not to mention your future litter of happy yipping pups you will birth for him! It's a perfect plan!

And so he waits. And waits. And waits until the day you finally leave with your cute basket in tow and a tearful goodbye with your mommy dear that you will return as soon as possible. Yea, sure sweetheart.

I think he'd reveal himself by the time it's getting nighttime, when the sun sets, the air is getting cold and a ominous darkness sets over the forest where your trembling body sits in a makeshift nest made of a blanket and a thick animal pelt under a old, big tree. Everything seems so loud, the cries of nocturnal animals sound much more bleak and unnerving, not to mention the weird, chilling feeling of...something following you. Like there were a pair of eyes trained on you since a few weeks ago but you never mentioned this to your poor mother as you didn't want to worry her, but the feeling only amplified ever since you left your home and went on a trip to your grandmother.

You couldn't help the loud yelp you let out when suddenly a pair of glowing golden eyes appeared in the small clearing around the tree; a pair of glowing, unblinking orbs that seemed to be suspended in the air in the surrounding darkness, the weak fireplace you managed to make doing basically nothing to light up the area and your poor little heart started to beat like crazy when you noticed the eyes moving forward, closer and closer to you until the light finally caught what was moving towards you...or more like who.

It was an enormous man, easily over 7ft tall, his broad, bulky shoulders moving as he stood from the position he was in to his full height and those ominous glowing eyes still were unblinking as they stared at you like you were just some lamb and...you probably were.

The one thing that somehow stood out the most, even amidst literally everything else unnatural about this man, were a pair of ear on top of his head, which only now you noticed was covered in some sort of tattered old hood with holes for the eyes and ears, and a huge fluffy tail which was wagging faster anytime you seemed to look the man over, but what really brought it all together was his lower half...it-it was all fur. His legs were that of some bipedal wolf and in that moment a silent scream tried to make its way out of your throat; it was König, the brutal and unforgiving beast that resided in the surrounding forests, the one that people tell horror stories about around campfire and...he was here. He was here before you to tear you apart and leave nothing behind, not even bones.

Tears were streaming down your face, a look of utter defeat on it because after all, what more could you do? You can't possibly fight him, you can't outrun him, hiding is out of the picture too...You were ready to feel the unimaginable pain of those jaws locking themselves on your throat and draining you of your life but the you felt...warmth? A slick, warm feeling on your cheek and when you opened your eyes a bit you saw what it was. It was König, or more like his long tongue licking away at your cheek in an almost comforting matter, his wide unblinking eyes still trained on you though his pupils seemed to grow in size, now taking over most of the glowing yellow and when he deemed you to be clean of your tears, a large crooked nose with a scar running across it nudged into your cheek and took a deep sniff to get your scent. A stray thought ran through your mind when you took a closer look at his uncovered face and noticed another huge scar across his face and a few smaller ones, who or what in their right mind got close enough to inflict such wounds on someone like König?

When you stayed still and just stared at him wide eyed and out of breath König let out a deep growl like purr of content; he could hear your small aborted breaths still coming out quick and your heart fluttering in your chest like a small erratic bird but he could see that you were a tiny bit calmer now and not on the brink of hysterics like a few seconds before. He couldn't help but grin in delight, a nasty, wide thing that revealed rows of sharp teeth. He finally had you. He had you exactly where he wanted and now you were his. Well not completely yet, you two would need to mate first but still, everyone had to start somewhere right? For now he had you calmed down even for a bit, showed you that he wasn't a threat to you and wasn't going to hurt you. It was still only the night of the first day of your travels and he will offer to guide you, he couldn't possibly allow such a cute young lady to just wander around the deep dark forest all alone, right?

Of course he won't mention it that he will be herding you away from the path and instead guide you deeper and deeper into the heart of the woods where his den in. He won't mention it that he will be making very obvious and insistent advances at you, insisting on staying close at all times and wrapping his huge body around you at night for warmth, nosing and nudging at you to cover you in his scent and maybe make you a little bit hot under that deliciously low neckline of the dress that you're wearing, the cape in a lovely shade of red acting like a blanket to shield you away when König is nosing at your neck and bosom, greedy for all the tiny, shy, flustered noises you make, greedy for making you all hot and ready for him.

And of course he certainly won't mention to you about your poor old granny's corpse, rotting for weeks already in her old, decaying house where she died of some illness or old age. No, no, your new life is here, with him. Forever.

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #cod mw x reader #cod x reader #hybrid au #werewolf!könig #red riding hood au #könig x reader #könig #konig x reader

[norrisleclercf1]

Chained

Pairing: Lando Norris x Assistant!Reader

Rating: R

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Smut, sub!Lando, praise, p in v, oral (m receiving), riding, wrap it before you tap it, Lando feels like he isn’t good enough, Spanish GP (yeah it needs its own warning for us Mclaren/Lando fans) etc.

Requested: Yes/No

Words: 5.9K

Part of: 2K Followers Celebration

Part 1: Whipped

A/N: Man I love this, but couldn’t figure out how to end this beast. Also I tagged everyone who asked for a Pt.2 when they read Whipped. Hope you all enjoy!!

Holy fuck, what did you do? Walking out of Lando's apartment, you take multiple deep breaths to calm your racing heart. Was he fucking with you? Are you screwing with him? You weren't sure, head spinning too damn fast to even think.

Shakey hands, you grab your phone and dial the first number you can think of. "Can I come over?"

"Come in." You take your first breath, hearing that Spanish accent as Carlos tugs you into his apartment. The smell of spices and herbs greets you, steam rolling out the kitchen door.

"Something is burning." Turning, Carlos sees the steam and curses rushing to the kitchen to stop whatever is burning. "Damn! I was cooking chorizo al vino when you called. Why did you call?" Carlos yells; you follow his voice and walk into the kitchen, smiling at the warmth and homey feeling it gives you.

"Lando. He told me..." Carlos holds up his hand, stopping you. "I think we might need wine for this? Yes?" He asks, making you laugh. "The biggest glass you've got." He pulls a stool next to the stove and pats it wanting you to sit next to him as he pours two large glasses of red wine.

Carlos hands you the red wine, and without thinking, you take a huge gulp of the wine, feeling that buzz hit you immediately. "So...what did he do now? Make you lie for him again? Hookup with twins?" Giggling, you shake your head no.

"Says he's in love with me." Carlos freezes, staring at you in utter shock, but a flash of fire and sizzling brings him out quickly, stopping the chorizo from burning as he adds thyme and half of the red wine you both are drinking to the pan and start to swirl it so it dissolves.

"Did he now?" You watch the food, feeling your stomach tighten with hunger, pulling out a rumble and making Carlos chuckle. "You knew?" Carlos shakes his head, turning off the burner and letting the sauce cool a little before pouring it over the chorizo. "I suspected. Different than knowing. I'm sure Max is the one who knew. Oh, we should call him." Carlos grabs his phone and sends Max a text telling him to get here. "Why didn't you tell me? We're best-" Carlos makes a sound causing you to hold your hands up. "Okay, okay, we're "siblings," but damn, Carlos, some loyalty would be nice." Grumbling into your wine glass and finishing it off, Carlos refills it without question.

"Yo! I was on a date with Kelly? What's with the 911?" You turn to see Max enter wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt raising your eyebrow. "Date my ass, you were streaming. Lando told Y/n he loves her." Carlos scolds Max, who shrugs and looks at you, not at all shocked.

"Yeah, I know. He texted me, telling me everything. You really told him to earn you? Fucking genius." Cringing, feeling Carlos's stare, you look at the 2 drivers. "He surprised me. I was compromised. Didn't even think everything over." Groaning, Carlos plates the chorizo and the sauce into 3 bowls and walks to the living room, you and Max following like children. "What are you going to do?" Carlos asks, watching Max try to eat the chorizo with a fork. Smacking his hand, he returns to the kitchen with fresh sliced bread. "Animal. You eat it with dipping bread." Max grabs the bread and moans when he bites it and turns to you.

"Do you even like Lando?" Mouth full, you watch Carlos glare at the lack of manners. "I don't know." Voice a whisper, the boys share a look, and Max swallows. "Yes, you do. You know, you're scared to tell us what you're feeling because we're both close to Lando." You bite into the chorizo hoping your mouth full will stop them from asking further questions.

"Y/n. Lando and I are brothers. He is a part of my family now, but you. You are as well. In this moment and his rap sheet, I don't blame you. But, if there is one thing I know about Lando is this; when he loves someone, he doesn't stay. He's with you. But he's a fucker right now, and we hate him, yes?" Carlos asks, making you giggle.

"Carlos, we don't hate Lando. Just unsure of his motives." Moaning at the explosion of flavors between the wine and food. "I'm pretty sure his motives are to fuck you-" "MAX!" Carlos snaps, causing the 3 of you to bust out laughing.

"On a serious note. How do you feel about Lando?" Carlos asks, remembering you avoided the question when Max asked. "I think I like him, but like you said. After everything he has done, I don't know if he is worth me going through this." The confession has Max moving closer to you, removing the wine glass from your hold, and pulling you into a hug.

"Lando is a muppet right now. If you want our help, we're here for you, Y/n. Hell, we'll even help you make Lando jealous. He's not the biggest fan of yours and Carlos's friendship anyways." Max mumbles into your hair, holding you tight. "He really is a muppet, isn't he?" You ask, feeling the wine make you emotional. "Yep. Now, can we finish eating? It's not supposed to be cold." Carlos whines, pulling you two apart.

You weren't sure how you felt about Lando, but you knew Max and Carlos would always help you.

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It's awkward, so damn uncomfortable. How are you supposed to do your job when your boss tells you he is practically in love with you and is now ignoring you? You can't.

Lando said good morning to you, and that was it. Here he was, talking to the team before the Monaco GP. You stood off to the side, trying to not show your emotions.

Clapping snaps you out of your thoughts, Lando walking right past you, causing you to groan and follow the bright orange driver through the crowds. "Lando! Wait!" He was moving fast, weaving in and out of the crowd, almost like he's running away from you.

"LANDO NORRIS! YOU STOP RIGHT THERE!" Screaming, the people around you freeze, even Lando, as they stare at you. "Is your name Lando? No? Then move the fuck on!" You scream, everyone moving again, leaving Lando frozen, his back still to you. "You asshole, come here." You growl, walking up to him and yanking him between garages forcing him to look at you.

"You don't get to treat me like this! You're the one who confessed to liking me, and I'll be damned if you get to act like the hurt one. You've dug this grave, so you fucking lay in it. Now," You take a breath calming down as he stares at you with this kicked puppy look. "Why are you ignoring me? I didn't shoot you down, Lando. You just..... Ugh!" Pulling your hair, not sure how to voice your thoughts.

"It hurts." You turn, looking at Lando, who shrugs, knowing that was a stupid excuse. "What? Lando? I didn't say no, but you aren't ready for me, okay? You want a relationship but haven't proved you are prepared for this. Lando, up until 2 days ago, you were fucking random girls left and right, and over one night, you think you're in love with me. Take this slow and get yourself straight before you jump into this." You whisper. Lando hangs his head, staring at his shoes.

"Anytime I was with a girl, I kept thinking of you." Biting your tongue, wanting to cuss him for saying that. "Everyone, do you know how disgusting that makes me feel. That I was using girls to forget you, but anytime I was with them, I could only hear, smell, and see you? It repulsed me. But I couldn't stop. I'd rather feel disgusted with myself than my feelings for you. Because every time I thought of my feelings for you, it was like someone ripping my heart out. I'm sorry." You stare at Lando, unable to help yourself. You hug him.

His muscles tighten but then relax as his arms slowly wrap around you, afraid you'd pull away the moment he touched you. With each heartbeat, his arms tighten around you, not wanting to let you go, but he drops and gently pulls you from him. "Thanks, but I will get hard if you keep hugging me." He yelps when you smack him hard on his head, ruining a genuine moment between you two. "Ass." You growl, making him smile, but he grabs your hand, lacing them with his fingers. "Small, right?" He asks, giving you that heart-stopping smile, causing you to blush.

"Come on, you've got a race." Breaking from his grasp, you walk forward, heading to the Mclaren garage to watch the race. Almost late, Lando ran to the track when he suddenly appeared on the screen for the National Anthem of Monaco.

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9th place! He was fantastic, even proving to everyone overtaking Monaco was possible. Even better, it was in the fucking rain. You held your breath when the rain hit, scared even when Lando went for the overtake, suddenly looking at his races in a new light.

"That was amazing! Oh my god Lando, you got points!" You usually didn't make a big deal out of points, they used to be expected of him, but this season proved how hard it's been on him. "Thanks." He smiles, wanting to hug you, but he remembers your words. Starting small. "Hey, there's this party tonight. Want to join?" He asks, hoping you'll say yes but shake your head no.

"We didn't finish our marathon. I was hoping we could do that instead." Wanting this to go back to normal, but not entirely back to normal. "Yes, fuck yes." Lando getting new energy. Looking forward to tonight more than ever. "But, this time, no sharing deep feelings, okay?" Not wanting to ruin the night again. "Totally. I'll keep those to myself unless you start it." Smiling, you nod and part ways, both getting ready for the night.

"There you are. I'm hurt you weren't at the podiums." Max's voice shocks you as he suddenly appears next to you. "Fuck! Where did you come from?" Holding your chest from being scared. "Ha, guess that's how everyone on the track feels, huh?" He tickles himself, laughing at his joke.

"Max, you'll have more races than just Monaco. I can afford to skip this one. Besides, talking to Lando." You rush out, wanting to avoid that conversation. "Talking to Lando? What about?" Max adjusts the trophy and champagne bottle in his hands and steps before you.

Contrary to popular belief, crinkling your nose at the smell of champagne and sweat mixed together was not a good look on the divers sometimes. "Lando and I are going to start small and work our way up, but you must know we're finishing our movie marathon since we weren't able to last night." Max watches you, waiting for some sign you were crossed about this, but he smiles, not seeing any reason to be on guard about this. "That'll be good for you two, starting small." Max smiles. Glad you and Lando are slowly fixing things. "Yeah, I've got to go. Congrats Max." Leaning up, you kiss his cheek and walk off, looking forward to the movie marathon, round two.

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"Okay, Fast Five is the best one. You can't argue that!" Defending your favorite one from the franchise. "Oh please, 2 Fast 2 Furious is the best one. It's still got the old school feels than the crazy ass shit they do now." Lando scuffs, cleaning up the popcorn and candy off the couch.

"Nope, sorry. Fast Five is the best, with the action, cars, and everyone coming together. Perfect." You laugh from the kitchen rinsing out the popcorn bowl. "Wrong." Jumping slightly from Lando suddenly behind you, turning to face him, you smile before returning to washing the bowl.

"Next race is Spain," Lando whispers, moving closer to you but still a distance between you. "I know. Want me to schedule time for you and Carlos to golf?" Turning the water off and drying your hands, you face Lando, who stares at you, face unreadable. "Yeah, if you can. Also, please schedule some time that Friday from 7-9 pm." Lando smiles, reaching out for your hand and linking your pinkies together.

"Why? What's going on?" Feeling warmth spread through your hand to your body. "I have a date." You pull your hand away, which has Lando giggle, and grab your hand, pulling you into him. You balance yourself with your hands resting on his chest. "Seriously, Lando? You're asking me to plan a date for you when you told me yesterday you loved me? I knew it. I knew it. I should've never believed you." Trying to pull away, Lando laughs and tightens his grip on you.

"Y/n, baby. Ask me who the date is with." You growl, wanting to smack the smirk off his face. "Fine asshat, who's the date with?" Lando leans in and kisses your cheek, and lets you go. "With you." Freezing, you try to control the blush, but it's useless when Lando's smirk grows seeing your blush.

"Smooth, hm?" He asks, biting his tongue and quirking up an eyebrow. "That was stupid; I was ready to kick your ass." Smacking his chest, you both stare at each other, unsure of what to say now.

"Normally, I'd ask if you want to stay the night and pull a move, but-" "Yeah, I should go home." You interrupt him; if you stay longer, you'll want to break the starting small thing and even potentially ruin this. "Come on." Walking to the door, Lando grabs your purse and jacket, handing them to you. "Thank you for tonight." Opening the door, you shrug your coat on. "Y/n. I want you to know something." Lando steps forward. His boyish attitude was gone. Now something else washes over him. "I don't care how long you make me wait or work for this. You are all I want. I'll fucking crawl if I need to, Y/n. Just know you've got it if you ask for the whole world. Goodnight, baby." Pressing a kiss to your forehead, and nudges you out of the door and closes it.

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"Fuck, that even made me tingly." Max giggles, lying on Carlos's floor while the Spaniard makes a plate of crackers and crazy cheese. He should take my nickname and be called smooth operator instead. Cause that was smooth." Sitting the plate down, you giggle at Carlos sitting across from you.

"We have a date next Friday. Should I do it?" Twirling the stem of your wine glass, resting your head on your knee. "Yeah, what's the harm. A date will be good. See if you two have real chemistry." Carlos stuffs his face with the crazy cheese hanging some to Max, who sits up munching on a cracker. "mhhjfsdf." Max grumbles. "Dammit, Max, what did I say about talking with your mouth full." Carlos chides

"I said," Swallowing, he coughs and clears his throat. "I said; Lando and you have been googly eyeing each other for years at different times. It's not so bad to go on a date. Besides, Lando is no slacker when it comes to dates." You narrow your eyes and chuckle darkly. "I planned those dates." Both boys fall silent. "Soooo, you and Isa break up?" Max asks, changing the topic.

"Fuck off. I don't want to talk about it." Carlos growls being defensive quick. "Okay, but you know you can talk to us." You whisper, knowing it is a sensitive topic, especially with all the rumors about what caused them to break up. "We're here to talk about your love life, not mine. So, are you going to fuck him?" Max laughs loudly at your beet-red face.

"No, not on the first date. I'm not one of his girls." You giggle, watching Carlos relax at the attention off him. "When was the last time you got laid anyways?" Carlos asks, pouring more wine into all 3 glasses. "Silverstone." You grumble, both pair of eyes widening at it almost being a year. "With who?" Max was curious. You rarely showed interest in anyone, much else enough to sleep with them. "Some guy. Lando was being......attentive to me, and I got sucked in. Had the rug pulled out from under me when he walked away with some model. I was hurt and angry, so I went clubbing, drank, and met some guy. That was it." You still remember that day.

Lando was different. He was acting like he was now. Soft, kind, worrying about your opinion, he decided to lead you on and sleep with some girl. Now that you know the truth, you regret sleeping with that guy. Both you and Lando were hurting and found comfort in other people.

"He regrets everything." Carlos mummers, and you all sit there thinking over your life choices. "He told me. But, is that enough to let him in again?" You ask, trying not to cry as everything crashes down on you. "Of course not. He does deserve a second chance. He fucks up. We'll kill him." Max comforts you, seeing your distressed state.

"Alright, enough feelings. We have good wine and cheese. How about we watch DTS and make fun of the drama." Carlos suggests turning on the TV, the 3 of you settling in for the night.

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"Interviews are at 2pm. You're with Lance, Carlos, Logan, and Nyck. Please be on your best behavior, or I won't go on the date with you." You threaten. Lando smiles and nods, marking a reminder in his phone. "You'll still go on a date with me, even if I'm a bad boy." Sticking his tongue out, you get an idea and decide to fuck with him.

"Lando, baby." Grabbing his attention, you move from your spot and stand before him, fixing his sweatshirt. "Be a good boy for me, yeah?" You ask, looking up at him. His eyes widen at your words, neck growing red as it travels up to his face. "I..um....I..." He mutters, trying to find words but can't as you pull away laughing.

"Good know that." Winking at him, you return to normal. Grabbing your bag, you give an innocent smile. "I've got work to do, so I'll meet up with you after the interviews, yeah?" You ask, walking past him as Lando nods, still at a loss for words.

2pm came and went as Lando walked out talking to Carlos, trying to figure out what to do for the date. "Stop asking me. I'm not helping you." Carlos groans, tired of hearing Lando whine at Y/n. "Why? Because you're on her side?" Lando asks, not meaning to sound bitter. "Yes! I am on her side. Fuck, Lando. She comes to me every time you two finish with whatever and talks to Max and me because she still needs to decide if she should trust you. You want Y/n, fucking work for her. You don't deserve her. She's fucking amazing. I want you two together, but I'm not helping you with this." Carlos finally putting his foot down.

Lando stands there and shuffles his feet. He knows what Carlos says is true but doesn't want to ruin this. If he lost you, his heart would be ripped out of his chest. "I'm scared," Lando admits, finally owning up to it. "Lando, I know you are brother. Being scared is a good thing. It means you actually care." Carlos whispers, pulling Lando into a hug. Having always been protective of the young driver. Lando and Carlos are brothers. Nothing would change that.

"Go with your gut. You know what she likes. Nothing crazy. Go with calm and personal." Carlos suggests trying to help Lando. "I know what to do." Lando pulls away with a giant smile as he rushes off, leaving Carlos there, proud of him.

"Hey, Land-" "Not now, Y/n, wait, y/n." He halts to a stop before you. "I'm going to have to cancel tonight. I've got to plan our date, okay baby?" He kisses your cheek and rushes off again, leaving you there confused. "Okay, bye." You say to no one, shaking your head.

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"Where are we going?" Lando leads you through the city blindfolded. "Do you trust me?" He asks, voice right next to your ear, making you shiver. "Somewhat." You joke, feeling the vibration of his laughter on your back. "We're safe, I promise," Lando reassures you as he pulls you down wooden stairs. Getting to the bottom, you step off, feeling something coarse on your feet.

It's warm, oddly soft, yet rough at the same time. Sand, it's sand. "Lando? Seriously, where are we?" Getting anxious until the blindfold is ripped off. Greeting you is Lando in a white dress shirt, the first 3 buttons undone, hair curly, and wearing khaki shorts. "Hey, we're here." He turns to the side and shows off what he brought you to. Behind him are candles, fake ones in a circle with two blankets and pillows laid down.

"Lando...is this-" He smiles, pulling you toward the blankets. "I remember watching cheap romance movies when we first had our movie night. I asked you what your ideal date was. You said," "A midnight picnic under the stars on a beach with someone who truly loved me." You whisper the last part.

"Come on, I've got sandwiches and chips. Nothing fancy since we're at the beach." Lando shrugs, hoping it is okay, but judging by your smile, you're more than okay with it. Settling down, Lando has you sitting between his legs, wanting you close, which you're more than okay with.

"Today was hard, wasn't it?" You ask softly, having finished off your food, now just relaxing into each other. "It's the new normal," Lando admits, pressing his cheek to the top of your head, arms sliding around your waist. "Tomorrow is a new day, Lando. You'll do great." He knew he had gotten P1s and P2s today in practice despite his 14th and 11th-placed finishes.

"Can't come soon enough." He whispers, both of you falling into a peaceful quiet. "Lando?" You ask, pulling a hum out of him, adjusting you in his arms, pulling you closer. "Yeah, baby?" You smile, tracing patterns on his hands, the chill of the night not bothering you, the warmth of his body keeping you happy.

"I trust you. Just don't hurt me again." Lando's arms tighten even more, hearing your words. "Never. I'll never hurt you again." You turn your head, arm breaking free, grabbing his chin, and turning his face down. You lean up and kiss his lips softly before settling back.

You smile, your ear pressed to his chest, feeling his heartbeat thump fast against his chest. "We need to leave in an hour. It's getting late." Is all he says, helping you calm your own nerves. "Okay."

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"OH MY GOD!" You couldn't help the screaming and jumping you did. Lando had gotten P3; he will start 3rd on the grid after a fantastic qualifying. "Wait? I got P3?" Lando's broken voice hits your ears, hearing his radio loud and clear. "P3 Lando." Someone replies. You try to calm yourself, wanting to run out there and congratulate him, but it will have to wait.

You finally got your chance after the interview with the top 3. Giving congrats to Max and Carlos. They expect you to talk to them longer, but when Lando steps off the small stage, your launching yourself into his arms. "You did it. Oh my god, Lando!" You cry as you both hold each other, forgetting the other people around you.

"Things seem to be going good," Max whispers to Carlos, who watches the two of you closely. "Yeah, I'm happy for them. After everything they've done to each other, even without the other knowing, they deserve each other." Carlos whispers back.

Max notices the look in Carlos's eyes and pats his back. "Listen....I'm here if you want to talk, okay?" Max asks, trying to figure out what is going on with Carlos. "Thanks, man." Carlos nods, walking off as you and Lando walk away.

"Lando, I'm so proud of you! You did great." You praise Lando, turning red as he tugs you deeper into his side. "Fuck, I can't wait for this race. I know I was downplaying everything to the media, but I feel good about this." His body was vibrating with adrenaline and excitement.

"Lando, Lando, calm down." You ground him. His smile is contagious as you mirror his smile. "You can do this. I know the car isn't the best. That doesn't matter." Lando scuffs. "Yes, it does." "Lando, please. You're talented and one hell of a driver. You can do this." You whisper, smoothing his hair, Lando leaning into your touch. "I can do this." He repeats, calming down finally.

"I got P3." He whispers; you laugh at him but soon shriek when he picks you up and twirls you before setting you down. He rests his forehead against yours, both of you smiling like idiots.

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"No." Covering your mouth, you watch Lando hit Lewis, breaking his front wing. "Lando." You whisper, watching him enter the pits; it worsens from there. The rest of the race you watch between your hands, Lando will be heartbroken.

He finishes P17, and you watch the screen seeing Lando, not seeing Lando crawl out of the car. "Come on, Lando." You plead, almost like he hears you. He climbs out, movements sluggish. "Take him to the media pen. I'll meet him in his driver's room." You whisper to his media person, who nods and goes to meet Lando.

Sadly, you get caught by Zak wanting to talk about Lando's upcoming SIMs on what they can do better in Canada. You try to find ways to get free, wanting to be there to comfort Lando.

"Zak, can we talk about this later? I've got work, thanks." You rush off, heading towards his room, only to be stopped by the head media person. "Might not want to go in there. He's trashing the room." "Everyone out, now!" You yell, the staff leaving quickly, the wing empty except for you.

Opening the door, you flinch when his helmet flies into the wall.

"Lando." Heavy breathing fills the room. Stepping in deeper, you close the door, making Lando face you. "Am I not good enough?" You're taken aback. Lando's eyes are red, tears clouding them as well. A mixture of heartbreak and anger controls his face.

"What? Of course, you are." He chuckles, running his hands into his hair, and tugs. "Really? Because I'm not good enough to go into one fucking turn. Not good enough to stay in the top 10. Not good enough to HAVE YOU! I'M JUST NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" He roars, voice breaking as he sits on the couch, sobbing into his hands.

"You are good enough. Lando, you're good enough for me." Sitting beside him, you pull his hands away and replace them with your own. He faces you as he breaks again, crying even more when he looks into your eyes. "So good, you're more than enough for me." Leaning in, you kiss his cheeks, wiping away his tears. "Good enough." You mummer into his cheek, helping Lando calm down.

His breaths slow down, and you whisper words of encouragement. Not knowing why you climb into his lap, straddling him as you put all your weight on him. He holds you close, sobs turning into sniffles as you face each other. "Kiss me?" He asks. It was soft, innocent in a way.

Nodding, you kiss him, soft, feeling him relax as he leans into the kiss, letting you have control. Pulling away, you take a breath, making eye contact with Lando. Something snaps. You kiss him again, this time with more force, drawing a breathy whimper from Lando as his fingers dig into your skin.

"Wait...wait." He breaks the kiss breathing hard. "You said small." He whispers. You move around and press yourself on him. You bite your lip, feeling between your legs, "Screw small. Lando, you are worthy of me. I should have never made this a game. You earned me. Now claim me." You whisper, grinding down. Lando moans, hiding his face in your chest.

"Y/n, can you....can..." Lando blushes, unsure how to ask this. "Lando? Is this about what I teased you for earlier?" You ask, watching Lando squirm. "Sweet boy, need me to take care of you?" Kissing his neck, Lando whimpers, his hands moving to your ass, squeezing it. "Please." He begs bucking up his hips to meet yours, needing some contact.

"Easy, baby." You move your hands holding down his hips, pulling yourself off him. "Y/n, please." He whines, watching you walk to the door, thinking you will leave. Instead, you lock the door and come back. "Let me show you how good enough you are." Lando watches you lower yourself to your knees and about comes immediately.

He's had many fantasies about you, and the biggest one was about to come true. "Help me get this off, please?" Lando asks, struggling to get out of his suit. You shush him and replace his hands, pulling them down to his ankles and leaving him in his fireproof top and black briefs.

They hugged his thighs perfectly, shaping the muscles godly, but your eyes pull away and eye the bludge in his briefs. Your nails scratch his legs traveling up to his hips, palming the bludge. Giggling at his reaction, he whimpers and throws his head back, biting his lip. "Don't tease." He moans, covering your hand with his own, pressing your hand down to add pressure.

"You teased me for years. I think you can handle this." You push his legs open more and lean in, pulling his briefs down and watching his cock slap his hip. "Pretty." You praise. Lando covers his face with his arm and turns his hand trying to control himself.

Lando wasn't big or anything crazy. He was average and shaved. Oddly enough, he does have a pretty cock. It was smooth with a lovely pink tip that was leaking pre-cum. Sticking your tongue out, you lick it up. Lando flinches, biting his fist. You can't help but giggle.

"Someone's having some trouble, aren't you, baby boy? Did you fantasize about me sucking your dick? Getting on my knees for you? Praising you for being a good boy, hm?" You ask, tracing the veins on his cock with your tongue, finding a sensitive area.

"Yes. Fuck, can't stop thinking about you. Please, Y/n. I can't." He babbles. You give in and suck his head into your mouth, getting met with a slight salty taste from the pre-cum as you slowly bob your head. "Oh god." Lando moans arching up, but your hands move to his hips and hold him down as you relax your jaw and throat, taking him deeper.

Refusing to rush, you move slowly, drawing this out, making it feel good as Lando falls apart. "So good, god Y/n." He whimpers as you pull off, placing a kiss on his tip. "Want to come in my mouth, baby? Hm?" You replace your mouth with your hand jerking him off with slow, even strokes.

"No, no. Ride me? Let me come in you? Please, I swear I'll be good." He whimpers, watching you smile at his begging. "Okay, I'll ride you." Standing up, you undue your shorts and, with one movement, tug your shorts and panties off, throwing them somewhere in the room.

"God, you're gorgeous," Lando whispers, staring at you as you move to straddle him again; Lando paws at your shirt. You help him remove it as he stares at your chest and unclips your bra, watching it fall.

"Ready?" You ask, reaching between your legs and grabbing him, holding him up to make it easy for you to slide down on him. "Fuck yes. Been waiting for years. I'm clean, by the way, but if you want a condom. I'll throw one on." He admits before you two go any farther.

"Wear one next time." Lando smiles, nodding, but soon moans loudly when you slide down. You curse at the slight stretch, both breathing heavily, adjusting to the feeling. "Fuck, god damn. So tight and warm." He whimpers, burying his face in your chest while your fingers are buried in his hair, scratching his scalp, helping you both relax.

"Can I move?' You ask, wanting Lando to calm down before you even begin. "Yeah, if you don't move now, I'll want to stay like this forever." He moans. You giggle and move up before dropping back down. You start an easy rhythm bouncing gently as you whimper and hold each other.

No need to hurry, Lando moans loudly, making you groan at the sounds. Nothing was sexier than a man being reduced to a whimpering, moaning mess. You stop bouncing and start to rock your hips back and forth. Reaching down, grab Lando's hands from your ass and move them to your tits. Feeling the soft flesh in his hands, he looks up at you, pokes his tongue out, and circles your tit with his tongue.

"Y/n.....so good." He whimpers, covering them up as he sucks on your tit, pinching, and twisting the others, which draws out throaty moans, your hips moving faster. "Here, Lando. Touch me here." You grab one of his hands and move it to your clit as he pulls away from your breast and moves, kissing and nibbling on your lips.

"Right there, fuck right there." You gasp, his finger gently rubbing your clit back and forth, then side to side, letting you move at your pace. "I'm going to come, fuck, a little harder." You instruct, moving faster. Lando moans as he leans up, kissing you deeply, swallowing your groan as you are still, twitching as you come. Lando rubs your clit throughout your orgasm as his own hit him.

You shiver at the odd feeling of his cum inside you, relaxing before you decide to move. You pull him out of you slowly as Lando takes deep breaths. "Y/n?" He asks, looking up at you as you move to grab a warm wash cloth and clean both yourselves up.

"Yeah, baby?" You ask, wiping him clean as he watches you with a lazy smile euphoric beyond his mind. "I top next time." You laugh and lean over him, kissing his cheek. "You can try." You tease, which has Lando pulling you down, rearranging you to lay down, limbs tangled.

"Be my girlfriend?" He asks, trailing his fingers over your body, memorizing it. "Yes, of course, Lando." You kiss his chin and giggle, a thought coming to your mind. "What's funny?" Lando asks.

"You're such a simp." Causing both of you to burst into new rounds of laughter. "Yeah, but I'm chained to your ass now. Good luck getting rid of me." You smile, sitting up. "I'll never get rid of you." Kissing him slowly.

Taglist: @avenger122 @mehrmonga @writting-stuff-sometimes @dangeroustacoalienbiscuit @zealouspandawombat @soleilgrec @melinewton54 @readinsilenceplease @ashleemm @stopandgopenalty

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #formula one #f1 scenario #lando norris #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando x reader #lando x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando imagine #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fic #lando fluff #lando smut #lando scenario #mclaren f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagines #f1 fluff #f1 smut

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch.2

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Ch Notes: No warnings for this chapter, Krolik=Bunny, Sestra=Sister

Summary: Wanda was sent away on important business, by the time she comes back you're all grown up and a part of the family company. Wanda doesn't come back home empty handed in fact she returns with a brand new wife.

An: Ok someone asked me for Ch.2 early and I had to deliver. Next Ch.3 will be up on Monday. Stay tuned and hope you enjoy.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

True to their word, the Maximoff’s provided you with a roof over your head and protection wherever you went. You never worried about your mother again and you saw your father whenever his schedule permitted. However, your primary residence was with the Maximoff’s. They were just as kind as they had always been.

Dragos and Flora paid for anything you could ever want or need. They paid for your tuition at NYU, though you tried to argue against it. You double majored in software engineering and physics. Without the constant insecurities that your parents piled on you, you were able to reach new academic heights.

Wanda had gone off right before her college graduation, Dragos said she was doing important work internationally. He didn’t know when she would be returning. There was a small part of you that hated that the woman didn’t come to your graduation, but a card from her in the mail was enough to make you smile.

Once you had your degrees you weighed your options. After multiple boring interviews and under stimulating work you finally asked Dragos if there was anything you could do in the family business. Pietro wasn’t thrilled about you wanting to be involved, but once he saw you at work, he knew you’d fit right in.

The crime was fronted by a legitimate business that Dragos owned. Which meant that you got to work out of one the tallest office buildings in New York. Your standing with the family also afforded you a desk pretty high up. When you weren’t hacking into competitors’ systems or running field operations, you did simple accounting for the company. It was easier that way, as the numbers for both the true business and the under-cover business were vetted by you.

“Y/n, come on a delivery with me?” Pietro pops his head into your office space.

“What kind of delivery?”

He smirks, “Special.”

You quickly grab your jacket and follow him out of your office. As you navigate to the bottom floor the two of you make small talk.

“So, when are you going to stop playing around and ask Monica out?”

Pietro rolls his eyes, “When you date someone for more than 2 outings.”

You feign a pained look, “Ouch, that one hurts Piet.”

“The truth often does.”

Once you both are out of the building and into the car your demeanor changes a bit, “So who are these going to?”

“Mr. H.”

You groan, “That guy’s sketchy, I don't like him.”

Pietro laughs, “I’m sure a lot of people feel the same way about us. “

“Whatever,” you mumble, scrolling through your phone.

The rest of the ride is quiet, until you pull up to the drop of location. “So, I’m going in and dropping the stuff off. You’re going to wait for me in the driver's seat.”

“Why the driver’s seat?”

He blinks at you, “In case we need to get away faster, you'll already be in here. Keep the car running, this should be quick.”

While Pietro goes in to handle the business, you let your mind spiral into thoughts about Wanda. You miss her and feel like it has been too long. Dragos said that she ended up staying in Russia for awhile before heading to their home country of Sokovia. Apparently, while he ran the business here, she ran the operations over there.

You weren’t surprised that Wanda was trusted with such an important role, she always had leadership qualities. For a long while you thought you wanted to be just like her. Instead, you realized that the older woman had been someone you were interested in. Wanda had nearly a decade on you in age, but how could you not like her as a young queer girl.

Sometimes you could still feel her hand delicately grazing your torso as she patched up the wounds your mother inflicted. For awhile in the Maximoff’s home everyone treated you as if you would break into a million pieces. Maybe Wanda did too, but it was different with her.

She wasn’t just careful with you because she was scared, you’d break, but she truly believed that you deserved the care. Even when you began training with her, she treated you delicately. You wanted to learn how to protect yourself and she stepped right in and became the perfect teacher. You also began going to the gym with Pietro at least once a week. You weren’t trying to be buff, but just in shape enough to defend yourself if you needed.

Even though your outward appearance changed to be stronger. You felt as though Wanda saw right through that into your deepest insecurities and tended to them accordingly.

Your daydreaming is cut short by Pietro busting out of the warehouse where the drop was supposed to take place, with the goods still in his hand.

“DRIVE! DRIVE! DRIVE!”

He jumps into the passenger seat, and you hit the gas. Pietro is talking to you, but your adrenaline is kicking in. Your fieldwork doesn’t really get this exciting without a debrief. Getaway driver is definitely a new change in speed.

Your eyes focus solely on the road, ignoring what the man is saying as his chest heaves up and down. A quick glance in the rearview mirror tells you that they are following you. While you are curious about what happened, those questions can be answered later. 

Pietro is actually mildly impressed with your driving skills. Your sharp turns and redirections are top notch in his opinion. Though you are doing great the guys are still tailing you.

You think for a moment, trying to remember the nearest parking garage. You realize that it’s behind you and brake hard, you weave through oncoming traffic to try to get to the parking garage.

“Get ready to hop out,” you say to Pietro parking the car. Once you do the blonde starts running on foot and you call after him. He stops in his tracks frantic until he sees you breaking into another car. When you get in you drive normally out of the parking structure and straight back to the office.

“Jesus Christ, Y/n I didn’t know you could drive like that?”

Pietro grabs the wooden box from his lap before walking to the elevator. He wipes his hands on his jeans and proceeds as though it was a just another day.

“So, what the fuck happened?”

He raises an eyebrow, “You weren’t listening in the car?”

“Duh, I was a little preoccupied with the whole driving for my life thing.”

“I guess you'll hear it when I tell Papa then.”

The two of you are definitely headed to the top floor of the building to inform Dragos of what has transpired. Pietro is never one for knocking and simply barges into the man’s office.

“Papa, do you have a- Sestra?”

Pietro’s sentence dies in his throat as he gets a glimpse of his older sister. He wastes no time sitting in the wooden box on a couch nearby and scooping up the redhead in a tight hug. You could hear them exchanging more words in their mother language. It’s an unexpectedly tender moment as Pietro tries to keep things on the light side.

Somewhere in the hug Wanda’s eyes land on you and they widen slightly. She untangles herself from her brother to get a good look at you. She’s older, as expected, but age had been more than kind to her. Wanda looks as elegant as ever, an air of distinguish surrounds her.

The way she looks at you makes you feel like a teenager again. You do your best not to squirm under her gaze. When a smile placed itself on her lips, you feel relief washing over you. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she pulls you in to a big hug.

Her hands rise to hold your face, pulling back just slightly. She wants to get a good look at you. The softness of her hands causes you to blush.

“You’ve grown up on me little krolik.”

She releases the hold, and you speak, “You’ve been gone a long time, Wanda.”

There it is, in your voice for the first time in years; That fragile tone that you had only ever allowed Wanda to hear. You hope it didn't sound as desperate to everyone else in the room and it didn't. But Wanda picked up on it instantly.

“I have, but now I'm back; permanently,” Wanda says, keeping her eyes on you.

“And she brought a friend,” Dragos interjects, and you watch Wanda roll her eyes.

“She’s more than a friend Papa, she’s my wife and she’s sitting right here. I expect you to treat her kindly.”

Wanda is married and to a woman. Your mind scrambles to piece together what had happened in the years that she was gone for this to be the case. It is hard for you to digest what the woman had said. Your breathing becomes a little shallow, but no one takes notice.

Finally, you take notice of the other woman in the room, sitting in the chair next to the one Wanda had just been sitting in. Your mouth dries at the sight of her. The woman is stunning. Her auburn hair is a few shades darker than Wanda’s. She has a button nose, soft pink lips and piercing green eyes. You couldn't be mad at Wanda for marrying such a beautiful woman.

“Sestra, you’re married?” Pietro exclaims, looking between the two women dramatically.

“Yes; Y/n, Pietro, this is my wife, Natasha Romanoff.”

Your eyes linger on the woman even when Dragos claps his hands together to get the attention of the room, “Piet you were saying something important. I see that Mr. H didn't get his package.”

Any further pleasantries would have to wait.

“Papa it was a bad deal. They tried short me on our exchange, so I told them they could either bring me the rest of what they owe, or I’d be walking. They planned to take the package from me, so I ran immediately to the car. Of course they chased after me, but thanks to need for speed over here we got away.”

Dragos pinches the bridge of his nose lightly, “Don’t I always say being back up?”

Pietro answers back, “I took Y/n.”

This causes Natasha to chuckle a bit.

Your eyes narrow at her, “Something funny?”

She doesn’t back down, “Well from the way Wanda described you, you don't necessarily scream back up.”

Your jaw clenches slightly and you steal a quick glance at Wanda, “Wanda hasn’t seen me in over 5 years. I’m not that fragile little kid anymore.”

Dragos nods proudly, “Y/n is the biggest asset we have in this organization. She’s by far the glue that holds this all together and I will not tolerate any disrespect thrown her way.” The final part of his sentence carries a lot of weight to it, it’s a verbal warning.

Wanda clears her throat, “Hammerhead is a loyal customer, why would he try to cheat us?”

“He could have a new dealer,” you speak up. “Someone who might be charging less for similar goods.”

“You think someone is dumb enough to try to undercut us?” Pietro questions.

You speak candidly, “I think that people in this city can be greedy, and greed blinds all good sense.”

Dragos clearly agrees, “We need eyes and ears on the streets listening to anything about dealers that aren't us. I need a meeting with Hammerhead to make sure he’s got that big ugly head of his on straight. Y/n if I can't sell this, I'm going to have see a profit of this quantity somewhere else on the sheets.”

“Let Natasha and I come with you to your meeting Papa. I want you to see what we're capable of.”

“Papa, is this woman going to be joining our group?” Pietro asks.

You turn your attention to Dragos, curious of what the man has to say. There is an unbridled shine in Wanda’s eyes and a small upturn of Natasha’s lip. They seem to think that the man would say yes immediately.

Instead, he heavily sighs, “For now Ms. Romanoff is simply Wanda’s… wife. There is a chance that she’ll be given access to join. However, her involvement isn’t guaranteed. So just to be clear, she’s not going to be sitting in on the meeting.”

Wanda wants to fight back, you can tell, but she refrains. The playfulness of her features dissipates as she responds, “Is she at least allowed to stay and watch them work?”

“Y/n do you mind if Ms. Romanoff shadows you for the rest of the day?” You know what Dragos was actually asking of you. He wants you to vet her.

Your eyes land on the woman, staring at her intensely, “Sure.”

She squirms in her seat which makes you smile a bit.

“Pietro,” Dragos starts.

“Eyes & ears I’ve got it Papa,” he’s out of the door fast, setting the plan in motion.

Dragos presses a small button on his desk, “Kate can you set up a meeting between Hammerhead & I. It needs to be as soon as possible. Make it clear that if I’m kept waiting, there will be extra fees to pay. Ones that can't be bought by money.”

“No problem Mr. Maximoff. Should I have Clint get the car ready?” She responds over the intercom.

“That’ll be great, thank you Kate.”

Now it is Wanda who claps her hands, “So I guess it’s time to get to work. Which mean it’s time to say goodbye to my beautiful wife and my little krolik.”

Natasha stands from her seat and places a gentle kiss on Wanda’s lips. “Be safe,” she murmurs, not quite ready to part from her wife.

“I’ll be fine Nat, it’s just business as usual.”

Something about the two women in the same line of sight together made you feel weird. You had seen beautiful couples before, but you seem to be a little mesmerized by the sight of Natasha and Wanda. For now, you would say that it was just the shock of seeing Wanda after all these years and being blindsided by the news of her marriage.

“Have you changed too much to give me a hug before you go?”

The teasing tone in Wanda’s voice makes you roll your eyes. You walk over to her nonetheless, “I hugged you earlier, you know.”

Wanda doesn’t hesitate to pull you into another hug. “I know, but maybe two is too much for the new Y/n.”

You look up at her, maybe for a second too long, and you can’t help yourself, “Don’t worry, part of me is still your little krolik.”

A slight blush paints over her features as she smiles at you, “Good, keep my wife safe, ok?”

Your eyes cut to Natasha, “Of course, I’ll leave you guys to it.”

You walk out of the office with Wanda’s wife trailing closely behind you.  

“So, are you going to show me what makes you the glue?”

Her words make smile tug on the edge of your lips, “If you’re lucky.”

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #pietro maximoff #kate bishop #clint barton

[kingofbodyrolls]

Stuck in a Snowstorm (m) | pjm

*Part of 'the winter collection'. Read part two. Part three coming soon!

Summary: You don’t know how you ended up here. Stuck with your mortal enemy, Park Jimin, in you car – in a fucking snowstorm.

Pairing: Jimin x female reader

AU + genres: enemies to lovers, pwp (very little plot – let me be honest, it’s just pure smut). Humor/crack, smut.

Rating: Mature/explicit/R18 - this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.

Word count: 6,1K

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings (general) + triggers: Jimin is just a mean jerk and reader is a brat 😂 Lots of banter, crack and anger towards each other.

Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex, dirty talk, orgasm denial/delay, hair pulling, oral (female and male receiving), breasts and nipple play. Also, use of a tie 👀

Author’s note: This is actually a story that I planned to write all the way back in 2017 – better late than never, right? 😂 I had only made the plot with some outline, so I basically started from scrap. But it had been stuck in my mind since FOREVER and now I just miss Jimin a shit ton, so I made this. I hope you enjoy it! Also, it shouldn’t be taken too seriously, it’s just smut with minimal plot and don’t question the characters bad actions or some minor plot holes 😂 (Also, I did not proofread this, just because).

Also, merry Christmas / happy holidays – this is my gift to you wonderful people out there 💜

AND are you guys looking forward to Jimin’s ‘Closer than This’ tomorrow???? 💜

If you prefer to read on AO3 you can read it here 😀

“I can’t believe this…” in disbelief, you mutter, your voice tinged with uncertainty, while you desperately activate the windshield wiper, yearning for even a fleeting glimpse through the thick curtain of falling snow.

“I can,” Jimin declares from his spot beside you in the passenger seat. His playful critique follows swiftly, delivered with a pout and a firm voice, as he shakes his head in mock disbelief, “You're a terrible driver.”

“Am not!” you retort defiantly, your voice cutting through the air, even as your unwavering gaze remains fixed on the snowy expanse ahead.

A curtain of thick snow descends, veiling everything in an opaque white shroud. The road ahead is swallowed by the relentless onslaught, turning visibility into an elusive challenge.

Your hands clench the wheel with a vice-like grip, the strain evident as your knuckles whiten under the pressure. The tension in your entire body is so palpable that it hurts to fucking drive.

Exhaustion weighs on you heavily, a relentless burden, yet the realization hits that you're only halfway to your friends' Christmas party. Two more hours loom ahead, a daunting stretch of time spent in the company of Park Jimin, your sworn enemy.

The decision to share a car ride is a mystery even to yourself; perhaps it was a fleeting concern for the planet, a noble intention to save fuel by consolidating into one vehicle. Yet, as the journey unfolds, the real reasons behind your choice become an enigma.

Regret courses through you like a bitter undercurrent as you ponder the altruistic intentions behind considering the planet and the environment. The thought of advising Jimin to take his own car nags at you, a missed opportunity for a peaceful solo drive. In a self-cursing moment, you rue your own kindness.

“Let me drive; I’m a better driver than you anyway.” Jimin declares with casual confidence, his tone carrying an air of nonchalance.

“Fuck off, Jimin!” you hiss, frustration dripping from your words like venom.

You squint against the relentless assault of heavy snow, the world outside morphing into an indistinct blur as visibility dwindles.

Your pace is deliberate, a cautious dance with the road, but after several minutes, you relent, succumbing to the inevitable by slowing down even further.

“Fine!” you declare, seizing the steering wheel in a determined clench, bringing the car to an abrupt halt.

You pivot your gaze towards Jimin, the words cutting through the tension, “You fucking drive then.”

Shifting the car into park, you unclip your seatbelt with a determined click, swing the door open, and brave the biting embrace of the freezing snowstorm outside.

In synchronized movements, Jimin mirrors your actions, and together, you step out into the frigid air. The two of you converge outside, a silent agreement palpable in the crunch of snow beneath your feet, as you navigate around the car, preparing to swap seats.

“If you crash my car, I’ll kill you.” you menace, venom seeping through your words as you stride past him, positioning yourself in front of the vehicle.

He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders, a smug satisfaction evident in his demeanor, relishing the fact that you've conceded to let him take the wheel.

Jimin confidently eases his plump figure into the driver's seat, and you avert your gaze (definitely not looking!). With a self-assured demeanor, he expertly adjusts the seat to accommodate his frame.

You attempt to thaw your chilled hands under the blast of hot air from the air conditioner, the sour mood hanging heavy around you as you settle into the passenger seat, donning a visible pout.

“Relax, I’m not gonna crash your precious car,” he teases, the playfulness evident in his voice, just before smoothly shifting the car into gear and forging ahead.

In response, a huff escapes your lips, arms instinctively crossing in a silent declaration of your lingering displeasure.

You surrender to a sense of ease as Jimin takes the wheel, his deliberate pace aligning with caution. It's a mutual understanding — in this snow-laden terrain, slow and steady becomes a shared creed for safety.

The once teasing atmosphere now gives way to palpable tension, the air thick with the weight of swirling snow that has intensified. Jimin, too, struggles visibly against the heavier onslaught, the challenge of navigating through the snow turning the car into a place of shared unease.

Your gaze fixates on Jimin, observing as his fingers clench the steering wheel with a tension mirroring your own, and his shoulders stiffen in sync. A chuckle escapes you, unexpectedly audible, as you notice the ironic similarity between his reaction and your earlier demeanor.

“What’s so funny?” Jimin spits, the tension reverberating unmistakably in his voice, each word a note in the symphony of strained emotions.

“Your driving,” you start to chuckle, the amusement laced with a hint of mischief.

“You're not exactly outclassing my skills,” you declare, sinking into the seat with a self-assured smirk, relishing the satisfaction of your own driving prowess.

“You’re a fucking brat, you know that?” he seethes, the words charged with anger, his gaze sharply turning towards you, locking onto your eyes.

Despite Jimin's cautious speed, the car subtly veers, casting doubt on whether you're still on the road or lost in the oblivion of the thick snow. The blinding white landscape offers no clarity, leaving you uncertain and immersed in a disorienting wintry haze.

“I can’t see fucking shit!” he exclaims, abruptly bringing the car to a halt and cutting the engine in an instant, plunging you both into an eerie silence amid the obscured surroundings.

Your gaze locks onto him, urgency etched across your face. “What are you doing? We've got Seokjin's Christmas party in less than an hour!” The frustration in your voice reverberates, a ticking clock amplifying the stakes of the impending deadline.

“It’s not safe to drive in this freaking snowstorm!” he bellows in response, frustration escalating in his voice, punctuated by the sharp flick of the hazard warning lights, signaling the urgency and danger of the situation.

“I just want to get there already. I'd rather not be stuck with you,” you seethe, teeth gritted, a visible huff escaping in a cloud of anger. The tension hangs heavy, fueled by the biting words that linger in the now frosty air.

“Like I'd willingly be stuck with your sour attitude,” he retorts, his gaze sweeping you from head to toe for some inscrutable reason. “I don't even like you,” he declares, the words loaded with an unspoken tension that hangs in the frosty air between you two.

You gape at him, the bitter truth resonating in the air—an unspoken agreement that neither of you harbors any liking for the other. The animosity between you has solidified into a hostile dynamic, despite the shared circle of friends that consistently throws you together, much to your enduring displeasure.

Jimin exudes an infuriating level of cockiness, ceaselessly pushing your buttons and expertly tapping into the art of annoyance until it feels like your nerves are unraveling at his mere presence.

You'd willingly brave the biting cold rather than endure the prospect of an unpredictable future confined with him inside the car. Fate seems to revel in mocking you, as the car rapidly succumbs to the encroaching chill, each passing minute intensifying the unwelcome cold that now permeates the confined space.

You clutch your arms tightly around your body, desperately running your hands up and down in a futile attempt to gather some warmth. A curse slips from your lips as you question your own sanity—why in the world did you take off your jacket for the drive? Now it's trapped in the damn trunk, and the thought of braving the freezing cold to retrieve it is utterly unappealing.

“Cold?” he chuckles, the sound carrying an edge of amusement that only amplifies the chill sinking into your bones.

You nod your head.

“Well, I’m not giving you my jacket,” he states matter-of-factly, cocooning himself in the evident warmth of his puffer jacket. Damn Park Jimin and his infuriating nonchalance, he's truly a master of being a jerk!

“Can't even manage a simple act of kindness,” you mutter with disdain, the words escaping in a sharp hiss, a low and almost grumbling tone, accompanied by a dismissive eye roll.

“What's that?” he asks, a smirk playing on his lips, relishing the snug warmth of his jacket while you shiver in the cold. 

“Fuck you, Park!” you shout directly in his face, your words laced with frustration. Instead of a retort, he just chuckles, the sound taking on a manic edge that lingers in the frosty air, leaving an unsettling resonance to your heated exchange.

An indeterminate amount of time slips away, lost in the relentless snowfall that shows no sign of relenting. Frustration building, you reach for your phone and decide to text Seokjin, realizing that this damn snow isn't planning on letting up anytime soon.

You [15.42]: Stuck in a snowstorm with fucking Park Jimin. I don’t know when we’ll arrive 🙄

Jin [15.48]: Just stay safe 😂

Fuck Seokjin! You’re convinced that he’s somewhere enjoying a good laugh at your misfortune.

A surge of realization hits you like a bolt of inspiration—there's a blanket tucked away in the backseat. Swiftly moving up, you make your way to the center console.

“What’re you doing?” Jimin questions, his curiosity evident in the quirk of his eyebrow as you navigate over the center console, leaving him bewildered by your sudden, mysterious movements.

“There's a blanket back here,” you announce triumphantly, finally laying hands on the sought-after comfort. With a satisfying plop into the seat, you tug the blanket snugly over your cold body, a gesture that transforms the atmosphere within the car from chilly discomfort to a brief oasis of warmth.

After a few contemplative minutes, Jimin breaks the silence with a question that hangs in the air, “Mind if I join you?”

Your mouth falls agape, and your eyes widen in astonishment at his unexpected question. Collecting yourself, you respond with a hint of sarcasm, “You weren't keen on sharing your jacket with me. What makes you think I'd be willing to share my blanket with you?” The tension between you and Jimin escalates with each word, hanging palpably in the cold air.

Without a pause for your response, he defies the silence, navigating over the center console with the same determined crawl you had exhibited moments before. The unspoken tension between you both amplifies, turning the confined space into an arena of silent rivalry.

Seated beside you, he makes a grab for the blanket cocooning your shivering form. Resolute, you refuse to surrender it, your hands engaging in a tug of war with him.

“Share, you brat,” he hisses with a mix of irritation and amusement, his determination evident in the forceful tug at the blanket. 

“No!” you hiss back defiantly, the word laced with a stubborn refusal as you hold your ground.

With a forceful yank, he wrenches the blanket from your grasp, and in the struggle, he ends up with it draped across his lap. The victorious outcome of the skirmish leaves a charged atmosphere between you and Jimin, the warmth of the blanket now a coveted prize in his possession.

A triumphant smirk plays on his lips as he envelops himself in the captured blanket. His eyes lock onto your moping expression before descending further, a mischievous gleam indicating that his victory goes beyond the simple conquest of the blanket. 

“I can totally see your nipples,” he chuckles. 

You glance down, and sure enough, your nipples stand out against the satin material of your dress. Swiftly, you react, pressing your hands over your breasts in a sudden move to conceal their visibility. 

“Why the fuck are you look at my tits?” you yell at him, your frustration audible, but he merely chuckles in response. 

“You must really be freezing, huh?” he observes, and you simply nod in agreement, a silent acknowledgment of the biting cold that permeates the confined space. 

“I can warm you up,” he suggests with a playful wink, both eyes and eyebrows conspiring in unison. The underlying implication of his words hangs in the air, and you instantly grasp the nature of his playful proposition.

“I'm not that desperate, Park,” you scoff with a hint of disgust, the rejection laced with a prideful undertone. In response, he simply chuckles, finding amusement in your candid dismissal.

Following his suggestive remark, an electric charge seems to surge through the atmosphere in the car. Your mind involuntarily races, envisioning the prospect of warming up next to him, his hands tracing every contour of your body,  his di—

Stop. You admonish yourself sternly, a mental command to cease the vivid thoughts involving him. He's your enemy, you remind yourself, emphasizing the intense dislike you harbor for Park Jimin. The internal conflict heightens, the struggle between attraction and animosity weaving a complex web within your mind.

His chuckle resonates beside you, a sound that grates on your nerves. Irritation mounts, and you sharply turn your head towards him, your annoyance evident in the flicker of your gaze. 

“Need help?” he inquires, his gaze suddenly deepening, the darkness in his eyes unveiling a subtle intensity that lingers in the air. 

“With what?” you spit back at him, the confusion evident in your tone. 

“You're grinding against the seat,” he bluntly points out, his gaze fixed on your crotch. You glance down, discovering your unconscious movement against the fabric of the seat. A sudden realization dawns, and an expletive slips from your lips. 

A wave of discomfort washes over you, an intense desire to squirm and disappear into the ground, engulfed by the embarrassment that now saturates the air. The profound sense of shame hangs heavy, making the moment so excruciatingly humiliating.

You inhale sharply, drawing in a breath that seems to shudder through you, and with a deliberate move, you roll your hips once more.

“No…” you murmur, the word escaping with a shaky uncertainty that even your own ears can detect. 

Jimin scoots closer to you, the warmth radiating from his body sending sparks that seem to dance through yours. 

He leans into you, his mouth dangerously close to your ear, and in a breathy whisper, he offers, “I can help you with that.”

His words alone send a jolt through your body, a sudden tightening that ignites a fiery sensation. Damn it. The internal conflict and desire entwine, creating a tumultuous storm within you in the presence of him. It's undeniable—your entire being yearns for the touch you never thought you'd crave. 

His warm hand finds its way to your thigh, and a low moan escapes your lips at the contact. Fuck. 

His hand ventures down to the hem of your dress, grabbing and pulling it back to expose more of your thighs. A shiver runs down your spine as the cold air embraces your newly exposed skin, and a hiss escapes your lips. However, the sensation is quickly replaced by a different kind of warmth as his hand cups your clothed core. A breathless expletive escapes your lips, leaving your mind in a blissful blank state.

Instantly, you feel the warmth of his hand intimately against you, and your head falls back against the seat involuntarily. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you respond to the touch, unable to resist rolling your hips into the sensation.

“You’re needy,” he breathes against your ear, the words carrying a provocative weight that reverberates through you. 

His warm breath sends a cascade of shivers down your spine, clouding your thoughts in a haze of desire. The desire for release intensifies, eclipsing any reservations you may have about seeking it from your mortal enemy. 

“Shut up and just touch me,” you utter in frustration, the words punctuated by the deliberate grind of your hips into his hand, a desperate quest for any kind of friction. You're acutely aware of the desperation seeping through your actions, but at this moment, you don’t give a fuck.

And touch you he does. His fingers begin to rub your clit over the fabric of your panties, and you don't hold back your moans.

Your hips gyrate, a rhythmic dance in pursuit of your impending orgasm. The sensation builds rapidly, a cascade of pleasure on the brink. The question lingers in your mind—why does your body respond so eagerly to his touch?

He tugs your panties to the side, his touch on your clit eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips. The warmth of his fingers against your skin amplifies the sensation, and you're already soaked.

“You're so wet already,” he chuckles against your ear, his lips teasingly grazing your skin. The desire to retaliate surges within you, but then, with a sudden and deliberate movement, one of his fingers enters your pussy, stealing your breath away.

He skillfully fingers you with one finger, the motion of his wrist simultaneously stroking against your clit, creating a sensation that's nothing short of delicious. The desire for more intensifies, an insatiable craving building within you.

“More,” you breathe, your voice escaping chapped and laden with a raw, lustful edge. 

Jimin adds one more digit, and you relish in the precision with which he finds your soft spot, hitting it perfectly.

“Are you gonna come on my fingers?” he whispers in your ear, the suggestive question sending an instant jolt through your body, a yearning for more. 

A throaty moan escapes your lips as you willingly spread your legs wider, granting him more space.

He deftly introduces a third finger into you, and you feel yourself losing control, swept away by the overwhelming pleasure. It's already so good—how is he so skilled with his fingers?

The way he skillfully uses his fingers inside you while simultaneously rubbing your clit with his wrist propels you relentlessly toward the precipice of climax. The knot in your stomach tightens, and you're on the verge of that intoxicating release.

“Jimin, fuck. I'm gonna come soon,” you pant, the urgency in your voice underscored by the rhythmic grind of your pussy against his hand. 

He accelerates the pace of his fingers inside you, bringing you to the brink, but just as your body teeters on the edge of release, he abruptly withdraws his fingers and hand altogether.

His fingers and hand vanish, leaving you hanging on the precipice of your orgasm. The abrupt absence intensifies the frustration and desire you feel surge through your body. Fuck!

Your legs tremble beneath you, and a frustrated hiss escapes your lips as you pant for breath.

“You didn't want to share the blanket,” he spews, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he revels in your evident frustration.

You're on the verge of tears, overwhelmed with anger. The desperate desire for release compounds the emotional turmoil within you. The audacity of him! The frustration boils over, cementing Jimin as nothing short of a fucking jerk in your mind.

“I'm not letting you come unless you beg for it,” he adds in a smug voice, a smirk playing on his lips as he purposefully puts some distance between you. 

You can't believe him. The brink of pleasure was within reach—just a few more rubs and you would have unraveled on his fingers. The yearning is palpable, a frustrating ache that intensifies with each passing moment. 

You growl at him, caught in a heated internal debate about whether to plead with him or not. 

Your pussy clenches around emptiness, a visceral reminder of your desperation.

“Please, Jimin. Please let me come,” you implore, locking eyes with him and turning your body toward him. The desperation in your gaze is palpable. Almost inadvertently, you press your chest closer, your stiff nipples drawing his gaze downward.

He licks his lips teasingly, a wicked glint in his eyes, before seizing your hips and drawing you irresistibly toward him. With a swift yet controlled motion, he manipulates your body, guiding you to lie on the seat. As you settle into the unexpected position, he chuckles at the genuine confusion etched across your face.

“Because you asked so nicely,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and in a bold move, he shoves your dress up to your stomach. With swift precision, he snatches your panties, sliding them down your legs. “I'll give you what you want.”

He discards your panties with a deliberate flick, his focus unwavering as he plunges down to your throbbing pussy. There's no hesitation; he immediately delves into licking at your folds and clit with a hunger that matches your own. 

Your body instinctively arches off the length of the seat, a wave of pleasure coursing through you. It feels unbelievably good. In the heat of the moment, your hands find his hair, fingers gripping and pulling at the strands, eliciting a guttural groan from him. 

Your muscles tighten, and the echoes of the previous orgasm, forcefully ripped from you, return with an intensity that feels tenfold. Each breath is a furious pant as he continues to lap at your folds, the relentless pleasure building and intertwining with your gasps. 

Then, with a skillful touch, he adds a finger to your clit, rubbing it in tantalizing circles. Your senses heighten, and just as you succumb to the pleasure, he skillfully continues to ravish your entrance with his tongue. 

“Jimin!” you scream his name, a raw and unrestrained cry escaping your lips as you reach the peak of ecstasy on his tongue. Your body tightens, toes curling, and you involuntarily hitch your heels against his legs. In the throes of pleasure, your vision blurs, and you fight for air.

He chuckles, a throaty sound that reverberates in the aftermath of your high. Not giving you a moment to fully come down, he skillfully inserts two of his fingers inside you, drawing a hiss from your lips at the touch—your body rendered oversensitive.

He extends his fingers, proudly displaying them, glistening with your intimate juices. A wicked glint in his eyes, he issues a command, “Clean them.” 

You meet his gaze defiantly, a spark of challenge in your eyes, before obediently rising to carry out his command. Taking hold of his hand, you sensually draw his slick digits into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them like a provocative dance. Your eyes lock onto his, witnessing the raw desire in his gaze as you release his fingers with an audible ‘pop’.

“I hate you,” you declare, breathless, the words carrying a mixture of frustration and desire. His response is a low chuckle, his perceptive gaze catching the teasing glint in your eyes.

He leans back, a provocative smirk playing on his lips, and starts palming himself through his dress pants. Your eyes involuntarily follow the movement of his hands, and a jolt of desire courses through you as you realize he's already rock hard. The unmistakable bulge strains against his pants, a visual testament to the arousal simmering between you two. 

“I can help you with that,” you purr, a sultry promise lingering in your eyes, eager to reciprocate the pleasure.

He chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and smoothly turns his body to fully face you. With a teasing smirk, he unzips his pants, skillfully pulling down both his trousers and underwear enough to liberate his hardened dick.

His cock springs free, defiantly brushing against the bottom of his loosened tie, a sight that's undeniably tantalizing. Perfectly sculpted, it's veiny and slightly flushed at the tip, mirroring the allure of every inch of him. A surge of conflicting emotions overwhelms you – the hate, the desire, the acknowledgment of his undeniable appeal. You despise how effortlessly good-looking he is, from the tousled blonde locks to those lips you now crave to taste. 

However, your gaze returns to his dick, noting its average size but with a satisfying girth that catches your attention. A subtle hint of anticipation flickers in your eyes, and your tongue instinctively darts out to moisten your lips. 

“Then get to work,” he pants, a breathy command, as he sensually spreads his legs, creating an inviting space for you. 

You descend eagerly, ensuring your mouth is generously coated with saliva before you engulf him, starting with just the tip. 

He hisses the moment your lips meet his dick, his head instinctively colliding with the window behind him, an involuntary exclamation escaping, “Ah, fuck.”

You engulf more of him, your mouth descending entirely, and the sound of his primal moan reverberates in response. You add a sultry hum, a note of satisfaction coursing through you.

You initiate a slow, deliberate pace, skillfully sucking him off, and anything beyond your mouth's capacity, you sensually stroke with your hand. 

His hands seek out your hair, effortlessly capturing the neatly arranged high ponytail that he grasps with a possessive confidence. 

You revel in the subtle tension, accelerating your descent on him with a newfound urgency. Your tongue skillfully traces intricate patterns, dancing across his tip and the sensitive folds of his frenulum.

He moans in ecstasy as you withdraw with a satisfying ‘pop,’ only to treat the head of his throbbing dick like a tempting lollipop, your tongue swirling around it with deliberate sensuality.

As you glance up at him, he appears utterly lost in the moment. His eyes, once vibrant, are now dilated orbs of desire, his parted lips releasing audible breaths. The state of bliss enveloping him transforms his features into a breathtaking display of vulnerability and beauty.

You envelop him once more, relishing the subtle tremor that courses through him, a tangible response to the sensations you're skillfully orchestrating with your lips and tongue.

He yanks you away from him, his voice a raw whisper laden with desire, “I want to fuck you.”

You prop yourself up, captivated by the transformation before you. The usual arrogant Park Jimin is replaced by this vulnerable, needy version, and against your better judgment, a desperate craving for him builds inside you. You ache for him to consume you entirely.

A mischievous smirk plays on your lips as you echo his earlier taunts, “Beg for it,” you challenge, aware of the palpable tension between you, a shared desire pulsating in the charged air.

A low, throaty chuckle escapes him as his fingers glide through the tousled strands of his blonde hair, a mixture of frustration and amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re really a fucking brat,” he hisses, a smirk playing on his lips.

He sits up, a subtle smirk playing on his lips as he sheds his open jacket, the confined warmth of the car now turning uncomfortably sweltering. You can't help but acknowledge the irony; at least you're not freezing anymore, which, after all, was the primary objective of this unexpected detour, wasn't it?

“Please let me fuck you,” his plea hangs in the air, a desperate echo of your own request, and you can't help but chuckle, slowly crawling closer to him.

“Turn around, let me straddle you. Leaning against the headrest will give us more space,” you suggest, and he shifts in an instant, his arousal evident in the casual sway of his dick with each movement.

Then you confidently straddle him, your hand instinctively reaching for his dick, guiding him to align perfectly with your eager entrance.

Before you lower yourself onto him, you sensually trail his dick through your wetness, relishing in the intimate friction. A moan escapes your lips as you then descend onto his lap in one smooth, sultry motion.

The exquisite stretch sends a shiver down your spine, and he effortlessly glides in, eliciting a breathless ‘Fuck!’ from your lips.

As your hands find their place on his shoulders for support, his eyes, now hooded, follow your every movement as you begin to ride him with a rhythm that echoes the passion pulsing between you.

You pant furiously, your breath hot against his face. The sensation of him inside you is nothing short of heavenly, an electrifying connection that feels as if every contour of him aligns perfectly with every curve of your pussy.

“Ah,” ecstasy courses through you with each fervent bounce on his throbbing length, a harmonious rhythm of pleasure escaping your lips in breathless gasps.

“You’re so tight,” his ragged breaths synchronize with the rhythmic clench of your walls, his hands anchoring to your hips, adding an electrifying intensity to each blissful plunge into your velvet warmth.

Between gasps, you manage to growl, “Fuck. I hate you,” only to be met with his deep, throaty chuckle as he continues the relentless rhythm of his thrusts, each one a tumultuous clash of conflicting desires.

Amidst heavy breaths, he accuses, “I know you're lying,” his words punctuated by the rhythmic tempo of his panting. Undeterred, he leans in for a searing kiss, his lips caressing yours with a softness akin to pillows. Your defenses crumble as you melt into his touch, tongues colliding in a fervent dance that defies the lingering tension.

“Why is it that you feel so damn good?” you gasp, interrupting the kiss only to plunge back into its intoxicating depths. Each moment spent in his embrace feels like a surrender to a passionate whirlwind. His every thrust reverberates through you, sending electrifying shivers down your spine, an exquisite dance of pleasure and desire that you find impossible to resist.

“Perhaps I should prolong your climax, just as you did to me?” you purr with a mischievous smirk playing on your lips, resurrecting the playful brat within you.

He chuckles, his hands leaving the curve of your hips to gracefully undo his tie at his neck. Your gaze fixates on him, observing each deliberate move as he frees himself from the constriction of the tie, all while you continue to ride him with an unabashed hunger.

“You really are a fucking brat,” he mutters, the corners of his lips quirking into a sly smile as he pulls off his tie. “Now, shut up,” he commands, silencing any potential retorts by expertly stuffing the tie into your open, protesting mouth.

You yield to the makeshift gag, sinking your teeth into the fabric, muffling the symphony of your own desperate moans.

A smirk plays on his lips as his hands reclaim your hips, commanding, “Now take it like the fucking brat that you are.”

His movements become a relentless rhythm, thrusting deep inside you. All you can do is cling to his shoulders, swept away by the force of his desire.

Ecstasy courses through you, and you can't help but moan into the fabric of his tie. It feels too damn good to contain.

His voice drips with satisfaction as he senses your walls tightening around him, and a smug grin plays on his lips. “You like that, huh?”

A guttural moan escapes your lips in response, the crescendo of pleasure building, and you sense the impending climax drawing near.

“Fuck yourself on my dick,” his command hangs in the air, thick with desire, as his hands abandon your hips, embarking on a journey down your back. With a swift motion, he unzips your dress, letting it cascade down your shoulders.

Your naked breasts dances to the rhythm of his powerful thrusts, an erotic ballet of passion and desire.

“Fuck. You’re not wearing a bra, just like I thought,” his eyes widen in delighted surprise, a devilish grin playing on his lips. His hands eagerly exploring the contours of your exposed tits.

His words hang in the air, sending a shiver down your spine. “Your tits are beautiful,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing delicate patterns around your stiffened nipples. Your body reacts instinctively, a primal moan escaping through the tie as desire courses through you.

Every grind and movement becomes a challenge as he expertly tweaks and pulls at your nipples, sending waves of pleasure and distraction through your body. You fight to maintain a rhythm, desperately trying to pleasure yourself on his dick amidst the electrifying sensations dancing across your chest.

As your walls clench around him, a whirlwind of sensations floods your body, signaling that the peak of pleasure is just a breath away. Every nerve is on edge, and the anticipation of an imminent climax tingles through you, a storm about to erupt.

As he skillfully massages your tits, he breathlessly teases, “You’re gonna come, aren’t you?” his words send shivers down your spine, intensifying the pleasure that's building within you.

With a fervent nod, you surrender to the sensations, your muffled moans echoing through the tie as pleasure courses through every inch of your being.

As he plunges into you, he urges you with a guttural command, “Cream my cock, brat.” The raw desire in his voice fuels the intensity of your connection, igniting a blaze of passion.

Overwhelmed by desire, his dick finding every exquisite spot within you, you unleash a guttural moan, your pleasure echoing into the fabric of the tie as you climax on his pulsating cock.

Jimin's fingers twist around your hardened nipples, sending electric shocks of ecstasy through your body. A guttural exclamation escapes your lips, muffled by the tie, as pleasure courses through every fiber of your being.

He pounds into you relentlessly, the rhythm building towards an intense climax. His hands firmly grip your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he desperately seeks his own release.

He reaches the peak of ecstasy, his body shuddering with the force of his release as he spills into the warmth of your pussy.

Heaving for breath, the silence between you two speaks volumes, a shared understanding lingering in the air as you descend from the euphoric heights of your climaxes.

Collapsing onto his chest, you revel in the soothing aftermath, liberated from the restraint of his tie. As his body relaxes within you, the intimacy lingers, a tangible connection forged in the heat of passion.

His lips graze your neck with a gentle touch, igniting a cascade of thoughts about the significance behind this tender gesture.

As laughter fills the air, shattering the lingering tension, your attention shifts to the foggy windows and the oppressive heaviness in the car, making each breath a deliberate act.

As you hastily redress, Jimin slips into his jacket and steps out of the car, retrieving your coat from the trunk. With a gentle handoff, he passes it to you, and you quickly slip into its comforting warmth.

“Thank you,” your gratitude escapes in a hushed whisper, laden with a touch of bewilderment. The encounter, while undeniably electrifying, leaves you grappling with conflicting emotions. It's Park Jimin, your sworn adversary, and the intensity of the shared moment hangs between you, a paradox of pleasure and rivalry.

“You’re welcome,” his response carries a self-assured smirk, echoing the lingering traces of the shared intimacy. As he confidently returns to the driver's seat, you mirror his actions, settling into the passenger's seat, both enveloped in a charged silence that speaks volumes.

The snowfall has eased, no longer as relentless as before. A subtle nostalgia creeps in as you reflect on his desire to keep you warm. The gentle flakes now fall, leaving you yearning for the lingering warmth of his touch.

As he revs the engine to life, a gust of chilly air sweeps through the car, causing you to emit an involuntary grunt. His chuckle fills the cabin, accompanied by a smirk and a teasing wink. “I can warm you up anytime,”

You shoot him a moping gaze, wondering if he has a knack for deciphering your thoughts. Can he sense the magnetic pull, the unspoken attraction that mirrors your own inner turmoil?

You return his smile, a silent agreement resonating between you as he steers the car forward, setting the wheels and unspoken possibilities in motion.

Three hours fashionably late, you finally arrive at Seokjin's Christmas party. The distant hum of music greets you as you step out of the car, signaling that the celebration is already in full swing.

As you rap your knuckles against the door, you steal a glance at Jimin who's busy adjusting his attire. His fingers deftly tighten the knot of his tie, and his pants get a quick, inconspicuous tug into place.

As Seokjin swings the door open, a tantalizing waft of mouthwatering aromas envelops your senses, instantly sparking a smile on your face.

Seokjin's laughter echoes as he playfully accuses, “You fucked Jimin!” and your jaw drops in disbelief to the floor.

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[sempersirens]

raising hell all over town

pairing: best friend's dad!joel x f!reader

summary: you've been a friend of sarah's since you were old enough to steal bottles of her dad's whiskey for parties. sarah was always the sensible one in your friendship, getting you out of the trouble you usually started. but now sarah has gone off to college, who else but joel could pick up the pieces?

content/warnings: 18+ mdni. alcohol. drugs. age gap. violence/fighting. smut: unprotected p in v, spanking

a/n: inspired by this gif set, and the wonderful @amanitacowboy & @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for introducing me to that yellowstone scene kind of nervous about this, my first proper smutty fic - i find smut really difficult to write for some reason (weird because i'm feral horny 24/7) so this was kinda out of my comfort zone but i hope you all enjoy! PSA: i no longer have a taglist! feel free to follow my updates blog @breakfastupdates and turn the post notifs on to be notified when i post a new fic :)

Friday nights in Austin felt incomplete without Sarah by your side.

For years, she had been the epitome of your partner in crime; dragging you back to her place or putting you in a cab before the cops were called.

Had it not been for your fierce loyalty and protectiveness over Sarah, you're sure her dad would've barred you from the house years ago. Sarah was smarter than you in almost every way. Academically, emotionally, you name it.

Joel knew this, and he trusted the two of you together knowing you both balanced the other out. Watching the two of you reminded Joel of a younger version of himself and Tommy, always thankful that Sarah had followed in his footsteps as opposed to her uncle's.

Your relationship with your parents was rocky, to say the least, and the Miller's house had always been a safe haven for you. Joel had patched up your split lip or bloody nose more times than he wanted to admit for a girl your age. He swore he'd kill your old man one day for the states you'd turned up to their house in.

Still, he couldn't help but feel the urge to grab you by the shoulders and shake some sense into you from time to time. As much as his heart broke for you, it was also in your nature to be a damn brat. Joel had endured countless stifling days spent by the pool forcing himself to not let his eyes linger on the curves of your hips. He struggled to look you in the eye when he saw you sat on the kitchen counter waiting to leave for a party, your mini skirt riding dangerously high on your thighs.

There had been times when he had been reckless. Times that he'd had to pull himself away from your invisible grip on him and relieve his tension in the bathroom, fisting his cock onto the shower floor, biting down on the shape of your name on his tongue.

When he'd re-emerge into the living room, he knew that you knew. You'd look through your eyelashes at him and smile. His cheeks flushed, shame setting in at the speed at which he'd cum from the thought of your pussy clenching around his shaft.

He would never let it show, but something would rush through his body when he'd ask Sarah what the hell she do this time? He remembered one time in particular, as Sarah relayed the events of the night that had led to your bloody nose, he'd looked over at you perching on the counter. With blood leaking down your cupid's bow, you'd locked eyes with him and ran your tongue across your lip, revelling in the remnants of your victory.

Still, you had fine enough nights out with the girls from work. They just didn't get you the way Sarah did. They would shoot you judgemental glances from across the bar that lasted until the Monday back at work for whatever you had done this time that they disapproved of.

"They're just dull. You should see the way they look at me for literally just hooking up with guys." You had lamented to Sarah over the phone while you were both getting ready for your respective nights out on separate sides of the country.

"It's probably because they've seen you get through an entire friendship group before your second drink."

"Well, they should be taking notes. Tell me nobody at college is as fun as me." Jealousy tore through your chest at the thought of Sarah spending her time with new friends.

"Nobody here is as fun as you. They're very... reserved." You scoffed at her politeness.

"Babe, just say they're boring."

"I'm giving them a chance. Anyway, gotta go. Text me tomorrow and tell me the damage. Love ya!"

"Don't have too much fun without me. Love you too."

Despite their judging looks, you were always the first person they called upon to finish any mess they had gotten themselves into. Still, you were happy to oblige, even if it meant a few awkward minutes of silence at the coffee machine on Monday.

The group of you had poured out of an Uber into the busy bar around nine o'clock, buzzing with the confidence of your pre-drinks. Rounds of shots were ordered and consumed at a dizzying pace, and soon enough, bags of powder were discreetly distributed across the table.

"Bathroom?" Hannah, one of your closest and least judgmental co-workers nudged you.

"Thought you'd never ask." The two of you sauntered away from the table, hand-in-hand, quickly bundling into a tight cubicle.

The bathroom filled up as the two of you tried to be as silent as possible, scooping your pinky nails into the small bag.

"Hurry the fuck up!" Someone from outside the cubicle called, thudding her fists against the door.

"Get fucked." You called back, muttering this bitch under your breath to Hannah.

As the two of you packed your things back into your handbags, the cubicle door jolted half open, smacking Hannah in the shoulder.

"Are you fucking serious?" You shouted at the small brunette on the other side of the door, checking Hannah over for injury.

"You hit me, you bitch." She straightened herself up, rubbing her shoulder.

"I'll do worse if you don't fucking move." The brunette hissed in her face.

You screwed your face up and shoved her, making her stumble backwards into the sink. The other girls in the bathroom grabbed their bags and scurried to the exit, evidently not wanting to be caught in the crossfire.

"Apologise." You said, moving toward the girl who was now pulling herself up with the help of the basins on either side of her.

"Fuck you." She spat, saliva hitting your cheek before she lunged forward.

Your fist connected with her nose before she even had time to swing, and your right hand secured a tight grip on the back of her hair.

"I said, apologise to my friend."

"I'm sorry." She choked, pathetically. Her face shrivelled in fear and pain.

"Not so fuckin' big now, are you?" Hannah said, which was ironic, considering the girl who had bruised her was now quivering under your fist.

Content with her apology, you released your grip on her and re-entered the bar with Hannah trailing behind you. As you both rejoined your table, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

"Our friend said you just attacked her in the bathroom." Another petite girl looked up at you, one hand on her hip.

"She hit my friend, here. Was just trying to teach her some manners."

The entirety of your group was now turned to face you, exchanging harsh whispers of your name followed by just leave it.

"You broke her nose!" The girl shrilled. You looked over her shoulder to the girl doubled over, clutching her bloody nose with an ensemble of people crowding around her.

"No, I think it just looks like that."

You grinned at the rage growing behind her eyes, your smile unfaltering even as her fist collided with your cheek.

"Harder." You shouted, rolling your neck from side to side.

"What?!"

"Come on, hit me harder. I know you got it in you." She didn't take much convincing; her next punch knocked you backwards onto the table as everyone rushed to tear the two of you apart.

You stepped forward to finally let her have it when a pair of strong hands pulled you back.

"Get off!" You shouted, kicking against who you assumed to be security throwing you out. You just hoped they weren't calling the cops, too.

"C'mon, doll. You've had enough fun for one night." A familiar Southern drawl cooed, dragging you out into the warm night. "Now, that wasn't very ladylike of you, darlin'."

He let you go from his grip and you turned to face him. To your surprise, you were met with the smirk of the younger Miller brother.

"Tommy." You breathed, "I didn't see you in there."

"Well, lucky I noticed you ain't it." He grinned.

Spending so much time at the Miller's had you well acquainted with Sarah's uncle Tommy. He'd seen you in much worse states than this, and in turn, so had you.

"Didn't need you to swoop in and save me, Tommy."

"Wasn't saving you, sweetheart. Was savin' that poor girl." You both smiled at the tone of pride in his voice.

"You got somewhere to go, trouble? Don't think you should be hangin' round here for too long."

"Can't exactly go home bleeding from my face." You sighed, realising you probably hadn't thought this through. You missed Sarah.

Tommy fished around in his pocket for his phone before raising it to his ear.

"Hey, big brother." Your stomach flipped. "No, no- it's not me. Joel, listen." You could almost hear Joel on the other end of the phone, witnessing it in person more times than you could count. It's not even ten o'clock yet, don't tell me you're locked up already.

"Our favourite little troublemaker needs a place to crash tonight. I'd drive her over but I've already had my fair share of beers. Okay, great. I'll tell her."

Once he'd hung up, Tommy told you that Joel was on his way to come and pick you up. You could feel your heartbeat in your stomach. You'd never been alone with Joel for longer than a couple of hours at most, let alone spending the night at his while Sarah was out of town. Something inside of you twitched in excitement, a warm rush settling deep in your belly.

You told Tommy to go back into the bar, that Joel wouldn't be long and you'd walk down the street to meet him in case those girls came out looking for another round.

As you made your way underneath the streetlights toward the direction of the Miller's house, you pulled your compact from your bag and touched up your make-up, re-curling your lashes and dousing a thick layer of clear lipgloss onto your lips, not bothering to tend to any of the blood trickling down your skin. You spritzed yourself with perfume and ran a brush through your hair, smiling at the thought of Joel seeing you waiting on the curbside for him.

Right on cue, his truck pulled around the corner. You raised your hand and wiggled your fingers, a small smirk spreading across your cheeks.

You were grateful for your earlier decision to wear your knee-high boots with a denim mini-skirt, adding a little extra sway to your hips as you made your way to the passenger side of Joel's truck. You climbed in and turned to face him, flashing him a toothy grin, well aware of the blood staining your teeth.

"You're a damn mess, princess." Something deep inside of you came to life at his words, causing you to visibly clench your exposed thighs together. "S'there I was, thinking to myself how thankful I am for a peaceful night after workin' lates all week. When my phone rings, just as I'd sat down and made myself comfortable."

"Peace is overrated." You replied.

"So, what did you do this time? Steal another cop car? Break into a hotel pool? Make out with someone's husband?"

You played with the hem of your skirt as he spoke, blushing as he listed a few of your past activities he'd either bailed you out of or heard about from Sarah.

"I didn't start this one." You said, a slight whine in your voice. "Someone hit my friend, I was just looking out for her."

"Your friend can't fight her own battles?"

"You never have a problem when it's Sarah I'm throwing punches for."

He scoffed. "Now, you know I've always taught her to never start a fight but always to finish one. You on the other hand, I don't think nobody's taught you anythin' of the sort."

"And are you gonna be the one to do that, Mr Miller?" You mimicked his Texan accent, which was much thicker than yours, and parted your legs in your seat ever so slightly.

"If I didn't know you better, darlin', I'd think you were tryin' to get me in some sort of trouble."

He pulled into the driveway and switched the ignition off before jogging to your side of the truck and holding the door open for you, as well as offering you an outstretched hand.

"Always such a gentleman." You smiled, looking at him through your eyelashes as you stepped out, hand in his.

He exhaled out of his nose, shaking his head softly as he slammed the door shut behind you. His hand moved to the small of your back, guiding you into the house.

"Sarah's bed is all made up, I'm sure you know where her clothes are f'you wanna change into something more... comfortable." His eyes trailed down your figure, your clothes hugging all the right places.

"Do you not like my outfit?" You pouted, holding your hands behind your back and sticking your chest out, swaying from side to side.

"Course not, y'look real pretty. Just thought you'd wanna watch TV before going to sleep is all." Joel brought a hand to the back of his head, rubbing his neck nervously as his eyes shifted to the floor.

For such a handsome man, he was so damn insecure. Maybe it was the gentleman in him, thinking that it was wrong for someone his age to want someone the same age as his daughter. He knew you didn't think like that, Sarah had told him multiple stories about the older men you'd hooked with at the bar.

He'd even caught you making out with a kid from your school's dad a few years ago when he'd come to pick you and Sarah up from a party. Joel had seemingly known the man, and you remembered how he'd stalked out of his truck and toward you both, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and warning him that his wife wasn't going to like hearing about this.

So, you kicked off your boots and took yourself upstairs into Sarah's bedroom. Not bothering to close the blinds, you peeled your clothes off and looked at yourself in the full length mirror.

The warmth of your earlier drinks still coated your inhibitions. You knew you looked good in your black lace set, breasts sat perkily on your chest and your ass cheeks the perfect handfuls.

Fuck it. If he wasn't going to be ballsy enough to make the first move, maybe you should.

You kissed the tips of your fingers and pressed them against a framed photo of you and Sarah giggling at whatever was going on behind the camera.

"Sorry, Sarah." You whispered, before making your way down the stairs.

Joel heard you coming but was too preoccupied fighting with the TV remote control to turn around and face you just yet.

"If I can get this damn thing to work I think they're showin' Scarface at ten, I know you said you ain't seen it so thought we could watch it."

"Sounds good," you spoke, your voice more honeyed than usual. "Hey, Joel. Do you think this will be comfy enough?"

He whipped his head around quickly, ready to give you the same kind of answer he did whenever Sarah asked for his opinion in a changing room. It took a second for him to register what he was looking at, but when it clicked he dropped the remote to the floor and turned his whole body to face you.

"What the hell," his face turned bright red, unsure what to do with his hands. You could give him a few ideas.

"You not like it?" You asked, voice low as you walked slowly in his direction.

His trousers began to tighten around his hardening cock and you smiled, glad that you were indeed on the same page.

"Course I- I, what the hell are you playin' at?"

"Come on, Joel. I gotta make up for interrupting your peaceful night somehow."

You closed the gap between you both and placed a hand delicately on his chest, tracing circles with the tip of your long, manicured nails.

Joel swallowed hard.

"This ain't right." He said weakly, his eyes betraying his words as they devoured the sight of your body before him.

"Cut the shit, Joel. I know you want me, and I want you."

He didn't answer, but instead threw you over his shoulder and carried you up to his bedroom, placing a couple of firm smacks on your ass as you wriggle against his strong grip. Your stomach did backflips, exhilarated at the prospect of what was about to happen.

Upon entering his room, he threw you roughly onto the bed and worked at undoing his belt as you scrambled onto your back, resting on your elbows.

"Y'know what I really thought when Tommy called, tellin' me I needed to come pick you up?" He said, although it didn't sound much like a question. "I thought, this dumb slut needs some sense fucking into her."

You moaned at his words, basking in the side of him that you knew always existed.

“Thought t’myself, she needs teachin’ some fuckin' manners f’once.”

Joel stalked around the side of the bed and sat and patted his lap. Wordlessly, you shifted your weight next to him and dangled your legs over the side of the bed.

He brought his right hand in between your thighs, making you shiver at the feeling of his coarse fingers grazing your skin. He ran his fingers up and down the length of your thigh, each time stopping short of the hem of your skirt.

"This is what you want, ain't it sweetheart?" He spoke lowly, voice gravelly and as rough as his touch. Each night spent tangled and alone in your sheets, fingers grazing your soaked folds with his name on your lips felt redundant. Nothing could come close to the feel of his skin on yours.

Pulling you from your trance, he slapped your inner thigh hard when you didn't respond. "Need t'hear you say it."

"Yes,' you moan through gritted teeth, surprised you can even find your voice. "This is what I need."

Sick of his incessant teasing, you clamber onto his lap and hook your fingers around the back of his neck.

"But I think you need this just as much, Mr Miller. You must get so lonely in this house all by yourself. Sarah always tells me how you never have any lady friends hanging around."

You straddle his lap and grip his neck for support, softly grinding yourself on the hardness of his lap. He moves a hand from your waist to roughly seize your chin, tipping your face down to meet his gaze.

"Your old man must've forgot to teach you some manners, little girl." His low voice tore through your body.

Joel hoists your skirt up to your waist and flips you underneath him in one swift motion. His body looms over yours, fingers trailing a rough and jagged line down to where you need him most. He moved at an antagonising slow pace, but you can't bring yourself to give into his little game by begging for more.

"Here's what we're gonna do, darlin'. You're gonna be a good girl f'me and tell daddy exactly what happened tonight." The mouth on him.

The way your body writhed and squirmed at his words didn't go unnoticed. With no warning, he plunged two thick digits inside of you and held them deep in place, his face inches away from yours.

"N'if you stutter, or lie, or say anythin' I don't like for that matter, you'll be over my knee, red-raw," his fingers curl inside of you and you bite back a moan, desperate to not let him have the upper hand.

"No matter how much you cry those pretty little eyes out, I won't quit 'til you've learnt somethin'. Understood?"

You suck a breath in through your nose, a sharp sting reminding you of the open wound still decorating your face.

"Yes, sir."

part 2 coming soon

taglist: @cool-iguana @nostalxgic @chaotic-mystery @beardedjoel

#my fic #the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #dee rambles #pedrohub #joel miller fanfic #joel miller #joel x reader #no use of y/n #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #tlou hbo #tlou #joel miller smut #the last of us series #tlou series #dee writes

[astraystayyh]

seungmin taking off his mask brainrot. allusion to sex but no smut. still mdni.

honestly i struggled with tagging this, because it's not smut but also not fluff either hshshs enemies to fwb??? anyways i hope this reaches its target audience,, enjoy <33 (lowercase intended)

seungmin is an asshole.

you don't like him. he's always around, nagging you, throwing unnecessary comments your way about every little thing you do or say. if it were solely up to you, you wouldn't talk to him ever again. but he's jeongin's best friend, who also happens to be your best friend, so seeing him is inevitable.

he's there sipping on his iced americano, wispy bangs falling in front of his brown eyes, fixated on you. he's there sitting across of you in the campus garden, hitting your leg repeatedly with his foot. he's there at jeongin's dorm, who also happens to be his roommate, strolling around shirtless with no care in the world.

he's infuriating, everything about him makes you mad. from the way he smiles proudly when he sees that he's getting on your nerves, to the way he leans his face onto yours, faking interest in whatever you are saying.

seungmin is an asshole, and to your surprise, he's here to pick you up.

you know it's him, from the red converse he is wearing, and his familiar black leather jacket. you can also tell from the hands gripping the handles of the motorcycle. they aren't clad with rings, so it can't be jeongin. the friend who was actually supposed to pick you up.

you half debate staying home, cursing jeongin in your brain for forcing you to spend more time with seungmin. but you really wanted to go to that party chan is hosting. you needed the free alcohol, badly.

so you huff, as seungmin takes his sweet time parking, mentally preparing to curse him too. but the words die in your throat as soon as he removes his helmet.

he has caramel colored hair now.

he slides off the motorcycle, running an easy hand through his hair. it looks soft, and you wonder what it smells like. citrus, maybe, or pinewood. he then leans onto his engine, smirking at you slightly. you roll your eyes, taking one step forward towards him.

"i think you're obsessed with me."

"yeah? why is that?" he smiles, tilting his head to the side, his arms now crossed in front of his chest.

"you just had to pick me up right. couldn't stand being away from me that badly?"

"correct." he doesn't deny and you huff, grabbing the second helmet and putting it on.

"let's make this as short as possible."

"my pleasure," he bows slightly and you bite your lip, trying to suppress the tiniest smile from coming out. you really liked his hair, it made his honeyed eyes stand out more.

he gets on first, and you follow suit. you were used to riding with jeongin but this is your first time doing it with seungmin. you hesitate for a couple of seconds, before wrapping your arms loosely around his waist.

"hold tight," he tells you, adding a soft "please" after a few silent beats. you oblige, and then he takes off with no further warning.

the drive is short, and you can't seem to focus on anything but the warmth emanating from seungmin's body. you are hyper aware of your thighs pressing against his, and his broad back snug against your chest. it feels intimate, for some odd reason, and you almost close your eyes to fully savor it. almost.

when you arrive, you're quick to hop off, handing your helmet to seungmin. he takes it from you silently, before removing his own too.

strands of his hair stay upwards and you debate internally for a second, before reaching to smooth them down.

you were right, his hair is incredibly soft to the touch.

"you look pretty," he says. and he sounds sincere- different from how he usually speaks to you.

"thank you," you reply quietly, " i like your new hair."

"really? I'm not sure if it suits me," he admits, running a hand through it self-consciously. it felt weird, to see him anything but confident and boastful.

"it does. what shampoo do you use?"

"i don't know. something citrusy, i think."

"figured."

....

your naked chest is pressed to seungmin's, limbs so tangled you can no longer tell where your body ends and his begins.

you didn't exactly plan on ending up here tonight, you weren't even sure how this happened. you just couldn't take your eyes off seungmin's hair, and then his eyes landed on your lips and suddenly he was leading you to the nearest bedroom.

but you don't mind, not when seungmin looks this way. the light is dim and dark shadows reflect on his face. there is a sheen layer of perspiration on his upperbrow, and you imagine you must look the same. sweaty and slightly dazed, a pink hue adorning your cheeks.

seungmin traces your lips with his thumb, going over your cupid bow ever so slowly. it makes shivers run down your spine, and you huddle closer to him. as close as you physically could anyways, since you were practically glued to him.

"had i known this would happen i would've died my hair sooner," he smirks cheekily and that brings you to his hair again. you run your hand through its soft locks gently. a stark contrast to how hard you were tugging them moments ago.

"mm, it's all because of this caramel color," you smile back, its citrusy scent wafting to your nose. "i really like your shampoo."

"are you turned on by scents?" he jokes and you swat his arm, leaning a bit away from him.

"it just smells nice. sue me."

"it's okay, you smell nice too," he chuckles, burying his nose in the crook of your neck. you appreciate it. it makes you feel less weird about how affected you are by him.

"i... i told jeongin that i wanted to pick you up," he mumbles onto your skin and you feel yourself tense slightly. "why?"

"wanted to see you first," he says quietly, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone. it makes you dizzy. you don't find him infuriating any more.

"let's talk about this later," you finally reply, pulling him away from you.

"mm. what do you want to do now?" he smiles, grazing your naked arm with the back of his hand.

you straddle his lap, swiping his bangs away from his forehead. that damned hair of his.

"you."

#seungmin x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #stray kids imagine #skz drabbles #seungmin fluff

[etheralsweetheart]

MK Characters with a breeding kink

Might make a part two (you can write in the comments who else could have this kink) MDNI (Breeding, Pregnancy kink (?), Degradation, Somnophilia)

Liu Kang ❤️🔥

Look at him. This man would definitely want to have kids, even if he's a god with little time on his hand. He feels dirty whenever he looks at you and the only thing on his mind, is fucking his cum into you. But he can't help it whenever he sees his lover. He enjoys putting his forehead on yours as he's in missionary. Something about this gesture feels so soft and intimate. Sex is impossible for him if there isn't a loving gesture. He hopes to get you pregnant, he just wants to see you carrying his child. "Dear, you're doing so good for me…” He would whisper into your ear while slowly and softly fucking into you. “Such a beauty…”

Bi-Han 💙❄️

Bi-Han is mean. He almost sees you as his personal fleshlight. Just a hole for him to fuck. He doesn't care how worried you are about getting pregnant, he's coming inside. You can't even talk with how hard he's fucking into your already abused hole, how puffy it has gotten from the overstimulation. But even with how sensitive your poor cunt is, it can't stop pulling him in. And whenever you whine and tell him to stop, he just comes with a "Is that so? Because I can feel your pussy milking my cock." He's expecting you to give him a heir. Bi-Han trust you enough to do the job and give him a son. Everytime you guys fuck, he makes sure to cum multiple times inside your cunt. He has to make sure you're completely stuffed with his potent semen.

Kuai Liang 💛🦂

Man has insane baby fever. Whenever he's in a store, he'd stare like five minutes straight at the baby section. He just finds the clothes adorable and hopes to get you pregnant, so he can buy these clothes for his baby. Oftentimes he would ask to start a family and get sad, whenever you felt you weren't ready (idk how, I'd immediately jump on his bones). But whenever you guys have sex, he can't help but think about breeding you. He has this need to fuck his cum deep inside you. He also enjoys after cumming inside you and then watching all his cum oozing out of your poor abused cunt. “You did so good… good night, honey” he says softly while wrapping his strong arms around your body. Please let him breed you, he'd be a great dad trust me

Fujin 🩵🌪️

RAAAA FUJIN. That one interaction between him and Sonya

Fujin: You must like having a daughter

Sonya: Still getting used to the whole idea

Fujin: It is a joy I will never know

But after meeting you, he wants to try and make this reality. You both fell in love and Fujin brought it up one time. When you agree that you are ready to start a family, he gets ecstatic, as well as a feeling in his lower stomach. He was laying on the bed, his long white hair free from the braid. You were riding him, hands gripping his shoulder. Obviously he would never hurt you, but he can't help accidentally leaving little crescent shaped marks on your hips. "My Love... You are so so.. beautiful" He pants out while he fills you up with his cum for the third time. "My Dear... So good just for me..." Fujin groans out. 

Syzoth 💚🦎

The thing with Syzoth is that he isn’t human and that he experiences a breeding season. You’d notice how much bigger he’d make himself whenever there are other men near you. He gets more clingy, you can forget privacy, with him following you everywhere. You’d ask what’s wrong and he’d denied it, as if whatever it was, was shameful to admit. You dropped it. But you can’t ignore these weird changes getting stronger each day. Until one night you woke up when you felt something rubbing against your ass. When you turned to look, you gasped a bit. There was Syzoth, dry humping you, eyes closed and he was biting his lips to keep quiet. “Syzoth..?” You mumble, not even fully conscious. Suddenly his eyes snap open and he looks at you. His eyes looked different, it held a lot more emotion in them. Suddenly he pushes your head back into the pillow. A small yelp escapes your mouth, but Syzoth was already on you. He’s tearing down your pants and without warning pushes his whole length inside you. It stretched you and you can only bury your face in the pillow, as he fucks with no remorse. “Mate… need to breed mate…” he whispers. Then he leaned down, his bare chest touching your back, as he kissed your ear. “I’m… so.. sorry.. Fuck!” He hisses out the last part. You can only moan as he uses your body for the rest of the night.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat character #mk #mk1 #mortal kombat mk1 #mk x reader #sub zero x reader #sub zero #bi han #bi han sub zero #liu kang x reader #liu kang mk1 #liu kang #scorpion x reader #kuai liang scorpion #scorpion #kuai liang x reader #kuai liang #mk fujin #fujin x reader #syzoth #syzoth x reader #reptile #reptile x reader #💚🦎 #🩵🌪️ #💛🦂k #❤️🔥 #💙❄️

[ikinremu]

more harry content please. that is all i ask.

Hi anon!! I’ve been meaning to work on some more Harry content, and this really motivated me so thank you!!! Hope you enjoy :)

Distraction

Harry Potter x Fem!Reader

! Smut Warning !

Tags: P in V, Praise, Unprotected Sex

Your tightly balled up fist propped your head up, forcing your gaze down at the text before you - not that you were absorbing any of the information. Truthfully, you didn't particularly mind studying when it came to certain subjects, though you were growing tired of spending your evenings begrudgingly hunched over your desk.

"Harry?" You sighed heavily, peering at the, rather sizeable, book you'd slammed down on the desk just over an hour ago, "Can you help me?"

"Sure, sweetheart." Your boyfriend mumbled from this rest upon the bed not far behind you, rustling the sheets a little as he took a stance. Suddenly, the large familiarity of his hands found your shoulders, thumb gently sweeping back and forth over your jumper. Tension unwound, your body soothed by his light touch.

"I'm so bored." A weighty exhale escaped your lips as you turned to stare up at him, desperation gleaming through your eyes.

Harry offered your shoulders a kind, soft squeeze, "I know. You've been sat here for an hour and you've hardly turned any pages."

Despite your self-awareness, you scoffed, eyes flitting to the dusty book cover as Harry suddenly flung the novel shut. You shot him a puzzled glance - although you couldn't deny the relief of a possible break.

"You're not concentrating." His lips tugged up, supporting a playful smirk, "Come on, it'll help if you have a distraction for a bit."

A sultry cloud of his breath grazed your neck, as a tempting kiss pressed to the angle of your jaw.  Your cheeks swarmed with a sudden heat, breath caught in your throat, "Harry.."

"Hm?" He mumbled, quietly satisfied as he observed your failure to follow through with whatever was to leave your lips.

Quickly, he discarded the clutter atop your desk, callous palm patting at the surface as his mouth left the crook of your neck, "On the desk."

Unable to deny what was before you, you hopped upon the - now uncluttered - table, perching yourself right at the edge.

Harry parted your legs slightly, stepping between them, your skirt naturally riding up your thighs. His hungry mouth connected with your own, bringing a newfound ferocity as your tongues collided rather immediately. You flung your vacant hands to the broad of his back, fingertips pressing against the fabric of his jumper.

His low groan seeped into the kiss, and he trailed a single hand upon the small of your back, the other snaking beneath your skirt. Heat buzzed between your legs as the familiar sensation of his touch met your panties, tracing soft circles over your clit through the damp material. You whimpered faintly against his mouth, feeling his lips curve into a satisfied smirk against yours.

Harry's fingers moved quicker, causing your body to shudder as you shattered the kiss, head falling against his shoulder.

"F-fuck.." Your hushed, sultry moan vibrated against his shoulder, endlessly fuelled by the flow of his digits.

"That's it, sweetheart." He encouraged, "Let me hear those pretty noises."

His lustful words struck your arousal, spiking it rather drastically. Harry's skilful fingertips slipped easily beneath your sodden underwear, tugging them aside, cool air hitting your bare cunt.

With a gracious chuckle, he tilted your head back from its fallen rest upon his shoulder, gaze flickering to yours, “I need to feel you."

Harry made light work of his trousers, pulling them downward, freeing his hard, bare cock with a deeply relieved groan. Craving the feel of your skin, his large hands splayed over your ass, finding a tender hold under your skirt.

"Ready, angel?" He braced, aligning his tip with your drenched, achingly unfulfilled entrance.

"Mhm.." You uttered, somewhat masking your need, fingertips digging into his back, his eyes trailing over your flushed face.

Harry eased his hard, unattended length between your legs, sliding between your slick folds, pulling an airy moan from the pair of you as he filled you.

"You feel so fucking good.." He praised with a heavy exhale, lips spilling gruff groans as your tight cunt squeezed at his cock.

His naked hips bucked against yours, tip hitting deep within your soaked pussy. His callous palms caressed your behind, the warmth of his mouth capturing the skin of your neck once more.

Your walls clenched around his length, the pulses of his tip reaching your g-spot, drawing a loud whine from your lips.

"So pretty." Harry cooed, giving your hips a motivational squeeze as he abruptly picked up the pace of his thrusts. The desk wavered slightly beneath your flushed, quickening bodies.

You couldn't help but allow your head to fall back a little, both overwhelmed and thrilled by the stimulations. Harry switched a single hand to your jaw, tipping your chin back down, forced to focus your gazes to one and other, "Eyes on me."

The intense buzz of his words lingered in your abdomen, your teeth puncturing the pillow of your lower lip.

Alternating his grasp from the tip of your chin, he returned attention to the swell of your clit. With present amusement, he applied just enough pressure where you most yearned for it. Breathy noises flooded the room, nude hips slapping against eachother, his hot breath tickling your cheeks.

“Right here, hm?” Harry smirked, heat-ridden bodies rocking together, bringing yourselves closer and closer.

“F-Fuck, yes..” You whined, back arching invitingly, a release brewing inside the both of you.

"That's it, fuck, just like that.."  He grunted, the jerking of his hips growing much lazier.

Practically melting against the work of his fingers, the sheer strength of your orgasm seized you, washing over your entirety. A breathy, passionate sound rolled off your tongue as you revelled in the climax. Tortured by the sensation of you clenching around his cock, Harry panted, sliding out as a burst of warmth painted your inner thighs.

Breathing far from steady, your glistening foreheads leant together, Harry’s lips parting to speak with a familiarly charming smile, “Better?”

Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! Please feel free to use the requests/asks feature on my page - it’d be so greatly appreciated!

#smut #smutty #drabbles #oneshot #harry potter #harry potter smut #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #hp #hp smut

[dahliamalfoy97]

NEEDY - Muzan

MuzanxReader

A/N: probably not my best work, but I hope you enjoy it anyways!

Synopsis: Basically Y/N is feeling a bit needy and is a bit of a brat and Muzan is a sadistic bastard.

Warning: SMUT +18!! , MDNI, Yandere Muzan ! Explicit Content, daddy kink, monster kink, brat kink, degradation, masochism, slight dacryphilia, choking kink, spanking kink, manhandling, orgasm denial, overstimulation, penetration, oral sex, thigh riding, hair pulling, cockwarming, mentions of blood, and whatever else I forget to mention. Muzan is kind of mean but I mean it’s Muzan soo.

You were feeling Needy.

Your boyfriend Muzan was really focused on defeating the Demon Survey Corps and the upcoming war and you knew how important it was to him. You knew he was busy and you know he had specifically ordered you don't bother him while he was working. Usually you followed his orders but all he seemed to do is lock himself away in his lab. And it left you lonely.

Feeling needier than ever.

It had been weeks since you two had been intimate. And you were starting to forget what his touch had felt like. Sure you were a demon and life was unending. You had an infinite amount of time with him but 2 weeks seemed like forever this time around.

So probably making the worst decision of your life you dress yourself in a short red dress that hugged every curve and barely covered your ass. It was new one you had bought just for him. But he's been too busy to see it on you. You curled your hair and put on some makeup and made way to his lab.

You knocked softly.

"Who is there?" Muzan answers monotonously and you knew he was probably not even looking up at door.

"It's me, Muzan," you say.

Immediately the doors open, "I thought I've told you to not to bother me while I'm working, Y/N," you feel your heart drop because he hadn't even looked up at you and he called you by your name. Not doll, or princess.

"I know but, I barely see you anymore," you pout, creeping quietly towards where he sat in his chair with a vial in his hands. His crimson cat like eyes narrowed in pure concentration. " I miss you."

He sighs, "I know, Princess, but you know how important to this is."

" I get that but lately it seems more important than me," you can't help but hiss in dismay, leaning against his desk, admiring his breathtaking profile. You had missed him so your heart ached. As a demon naturally you didn't feel much emotions. But you burned and craved him like he was your own heartbeat.

His gaze flits to yours for a second, "I promise nothing is more important than you, but this is so we can be together without any issues. Remember?"

"Of course. And I want that future with you, but right now I need you right now."

"I'm busy, princess, I promise I'll make it up to you later."

But you're not giving up so easily, you begin prowling around him. Creeping behind him to massage his shoulders.

"Have you even eaten lately?" And he immediately relaxes under your touch. "When was the last time you slept?"

"I am a demon, I don't need those things."

Your hands curl around his tie, nibbling on his ear, he lets out a groan. His grip on the vial tightening.

"Well you can't continue to be the most powerful demon king if you're refusing to eat."

"I'll eat later," he growls. "Right now I need to finish this concoction-"

"Damn it, Muzan, you haven't even looked at me since I walked in here. I know this is important, but you can at least remember me from time to time," his hand grips yours tightly, pulling you in front of him. His crimson stare finally meeting yours,

"I can never forget you, Sweetheart."

You stick out your lower lip, "well it seems like you have. It's been 2 weeks since I've seen you, two weeks since you've touched me. And i know you've said not to bother you, but fuck Muzan, I need you. If you're going to ignore me than I can just go find Douma, I know he'll-"

The vial in his hand shatters, his veins strain against his pale skin, his hand grips your wrist and yanks you on to his lap. Your legs on dangling on both sides. You gasp at the sudden reaction.

"Don't even think about finishing that fucking sentence," he growls, those crimson eyes glaring into yours, his hands grip your waist tightly. "You're fucking mine, sweetheart, and I will kill that demon if he lays a finger on you."

Your core fluttered at his degrading words.

"Muzan, you've been ignoring me the last few weeks," you reply back. "You haven't even what I'm wearing right now and I've bought it for you."

His eyes finally do a fully take of what you're wearing, and his eyes darken, "you bought this for me," his fingers skim the satin material, "let me guess you're not wearing any panties are you?"

"Maybe, maybe I am. But you won't be able to find out if you continue to ignore me like you have been," you run your hands down his torso, feeling his muscles tense underneath you, running them all the way to where they brush along the noticeable bulge that's straining against the material of his slacks. You rub it teasingly, and grind yourself a little on his thigh. But he stops your movements with a firm grip around your waist, his jaw clenching.

You smirk, knowing he was pissed, "You mean to tell me you've been wandering around the castle without panties where anyone else but me can see you?"

"Well I mean you haven't been around to see me so really why does it matter?"

He growls, a deep guttural growl, it vibrates underneath you and you can't help but bite your lip, knowing this man was was mere seconds from unleashing the beast that slept underneath.

"You're really going to be a fucking brat? What have I fucking told you about wandering around the castle without your panties on? You know I don't want anyone else seeing what's mine."

You squeeze him tightly and his eyes flash a dangerous scarlet, "again, you haven't been around so why would I listen to you when you haven't even cared to come and see me? I've gotten lonely without you, Daddy and I have needs. But if you're not here to take care of me than I might as well go find someone else who will-"

His hand suddenly grips your throat, squeezing, "you're being a real brat, little one, you come and bother me after I've told you not to, then you decide to parade around in no panties, even when I've ordered you not to and then you decide to get mouthy. The fucking  nerve you have to speak to me like that,  looks like I need to punish you. Teach you some fucking manners."

"Fuck you," you spit in face, choking slightly in his tight trip.

Suddenly he's throwing you off of him, rage is in his eyes, shoving you to your knees.

"Fine. If you're going to be a bitch, then you can get on your fucking knees. And I'll treat you like one."

He unbuckles his pants letting them fall to the ground, his massive angry cock slaps against his stomach, the red and dripping with precum, your mouth waters as he takes the belt off and forces your hands behind you and binds them together, tightly. The leather digs into your wrists when you try to wiggle out of them.

"Open. Your. Fucking. Mouth," he demands, but he doesn't give a chance to do much as he's already gripping you by the hair, pulling you so that you're directly in front of him. His cock is right in your face. He looks down at you with a mocking grin. "Aww look at you, utterly helpless against what I'm about to do."

He grips his cock his hands, stroking it a little, before rubbing the tip up and down your awaiting lips. Smearing precum all over.

"You think you can talk to me however you please," he growls, slapping his dick on your face, continuing to taunt you with it. "Think again, slut. Did you forget who I am little one?"

Without any warning at all, he's forcing his cock into your mouth. Not giving you any chance to breath or adjust as it lodges all the way into your throat, your throat not nearly big enough to take all of him. For he was just too massive and this wasn't even him in his true demon form. You could feel every inch and vein humming against your throat, it was angry. You could feel the rage as he began to roughly slam into you. You choke immediately, but soon hollow your cheeks and breathe throw your nose so you can take him in as deep as possible. He grips your hair winding it tightly in his fists, pulling harshly against it while he abuses your mouth.

"That's it, that's much better, having you silent and gagging around my cock. Much better than that nasty attitude that comes out of it," he watches with twisted satisfaction as spit and precum begin to dribble out of your mouth. Your eyes watering as his tip hits your throat repeatedly. As he's fucking your throat, his form begins to change. His black curly hair turns into those  gorgeous snowy curls, the transformation causing his dress shirt to rip exposing his corded muscles and ribbons of red that laced around him. You whimper at the sight. He was magnificent and deadly at the same time.  "Yes, that's it, whimper for me, whimper at the sight of your King."

You wiggle against the belt that's keeping you from touching him. You so desperately wanting  to feel him underneath your finger tips.

As if he can read your mind, he laughs, "what you want to touch me? Hmm? I can't let you do that just yet. You have to be punished, sweetheart. You've been way too naughty. Way too defiant."

You protest, but his cock is keeping you from being able to speak, it- he was relentless against in your throat. He was no longer the soft man that he only was with you. No he was officially the devil, taking what he wanted from you. Using your for his sick pleasure. But you had missed it. You had missed the way he felt in your throat, the way he would pulse inside you, his warmth, his touch. His fucking attention. All of it which is why you had acted out. Your core was aching and you were rubbing your thighs together. The need becoming to great.

"are you making a mess down there?" Muzan mocks, eyes locked on your shifting thighs, never loosening his grip in your hair and relenting on his thrusts. "You've already caused me to break one of my vials. Because you couldn't be nice, you just had to go and talk back, and now I have to fucking start over on that one. What a greedy little slut."

Tears were streaming down your cheeks at this point, your jaw was starting to hurt, at being stretched out so widely and brutally, but you didn't care. You welcomed that pain. His thrusts start to become more erratic and you feel him growing, those veins becoming more prominent as his release was nearing.

"Now be a good little slut and swallow for your King," all you can do is hum, as hot liquid pours down your throat, you welcome the salty taste as it costs your tongue, sucking greedily not wanting to miss a single drop, as he slowly starts to pull out, he smirks as you swallow it all.  "Good girl.”

In rapid motion,  he's yanking you back up, he bunches up the skirt of your dress, eyes flaring at the sight of your bare cunt. He sits down on the chair and pulls you with him, he places you on one of the mouths that decorates his leg, and you immediately fall against his chest as the wet muscle flicks against your slit. Your hands are still behind your back, so you have nothing to grab you to stabilize you. He rocks you along his thigh, body is already convulsing as the mouth on his leg eats you out. Meanwhile, he's just leaning back, watching lazily as you fall apart.

"You're so sexy when you're writhing against me like this. I love how small body is compared to mine. So easy to manipulate how I want. So easy to just break."

Your arch into him, grinding desperately along that mouth. As it cruelly sucks on your clit and draws circles, you're a whimpering mess. He laughs taking your tits in his massive hands, and latches his mouth one of them, swirling his tongue around your nipple, then he switches to the other one.

"Fuck Muzan,” you cry, and he bites down on one of your nipples causing you to scream.

"Wrong name, slut," but you can't hurl a sassy remake back, for the coil in you snaps,  causing your legs to shake and you to clamp around the mouth as your orgasm crashes through you.

"Daddy," you whimper, "again."

Once again, he laughs, "you don't get to tell me what to do, I'll do to you what I want. And you're just going to have to take whatever it is I give you."

Suddenly, he’s manhandling so you’re pinned to the table with your front side facing the table, he adjusts your stance your legs so their stretched wide. He grips you neck, pulling you in for a kiss, pulling you against him so your entire backside is pressing against his front side. He pushes your head down. He skims a hand along your ass before bringing it down in a hard slap. You jump, crying at the sting. But you could feel your arousal dripping.

"You think you can be a brat and get away with it?" He says before bringing his hand down again. "Think again," he smooths his hand along the sting before bringing it down again. Tears stream down your face, at the burning sensation. It stung. But it felt oh so good. His fingers cup your pussy lips, allowing your wetness to pool in his fingers before bringing them to your mouth and shoving them down your throat. He pulls them out and spanks you again.

"Fuck, Daddy, feels good," you cry.

He just laughs, "of course it does. Because it comes from me. Your pleasure comes from me, remember that before you get smart with me." Then he gets down on his knees behind you, his face inches away from your cunt, he grips your thighs before leaning in and giving you a slow lick. You quiver at the feeling of his hot tongue lazily licking your cunt. He continues this slow torturous pattern, lazy circles. Flicking it up and down. Sucking, biting, energyrhing he did was slow. Driving you on the brink of the edge, you were still sensitive from your previous high. You desperately wiggle yourself against him, trying to get him deeper. But his tentacles stop you from doing so, as they slither like vines around your legs, limiting movement. Like a predator finally going in for the kill, Muzan begins devouring you, body wracks in shivers at the overwhelming pleasure. As You could feel yourself getting closer to your peak, his tongue swiftly pulls out. And you glare at him for denying you of your orgasm.

"Muzan-"

SMACK!

"Still haven't learned to address me properly I see, if you're going to continue doing this bratty routine, then I'll continue denying you of what you really. But if you can be a girl good and be obedient for once, then I'll give you what you want. But you have to be a good girl for me."

"Please, Daddy," you beg, "please let me cum, I'll be a good girl, I promise."

"Really? Or are you just saying so to get what you want?" He slaps your cunt, before sinking two long inside and starts to finger fucking you, your gummy walls clamping. "Fuck, are you really this tight? Has it really been this long since I've fucked you?"

"That's what I've been tried to tell you, but you haven't been listening to me,"

He clamps his free hand around your mouth, as his other one deliciously continues thrusting in and out, "you really need to learn to shut that mouth of yours." You sink your fangs into his hand, causing him to growl, "little bitch," you smirk at the metallic as he lets go of your mouth and slaps your ass again. His fingers still deep inside, never relenting. You could feel your orgasm building again, and you selfishly grind again his fingers.

"Please, Daddy," you pester again him sweetly, with puppy eyes, “let me cum."

"I don’t think so, sweetheart, you’ve been nothing but a brat,” he purrs, “I don’t think you’ve earned it yet.”

You’re practically sobbing at this point as he alternates between slow and fast thrusts, once you’re orgasm would build and you’re walls began to clench, he’d stop and start over. You were shaking at this point, aching with the need to cum. But he was cruel and relentless. But you loved it and this is what you had been wanting when you sought him out. The reason why you misbehaved. You wanted him to treat you like this.

“I don’t know why you have to torture yourself,” he coos in fake sweet voice, “all you have to do is apologize. Apologize , and I’ll give you want you want.”

One of his tentacles curl around your stomach down to your clit and begins sucking on it, and you’re wailing at this point. The pleasure is too much. Too much to bear. Sobs wreck through your body, you’re legs are barely holding you up. No it’s Muzan that’s keeping you from falling apart.

“I- im sorry Daddy,” you blubber, “I’m sorry for being a brat. I just missed you and wanted your attention. I- I was feeling lonely.”

He’s eating this up like a smug bastard, “now that wasn’t so hard was it?”

You’re so so close, but right when you’re about to cum, he pulls out fingers entirely.

“DADDY,” you whine.

“Shut the fuck up,” suddenly your walls are being breached, and his cock is slamming in. No warning, or adjusting, he was selfish with how he took you, cruel-violent. The table was creaking. “Fuck, I’ve missed your pussy so much.”

“Your fault,” you snap, only to earn a slap.

His tentacles shove themselves inside your mouth. Your being impaled by his enormous cock and being gouged by his tentacles. The monster had officially ensnared you in its wrath. Destroying your body as it pleased.

“You really don’t know how to talk to me nicely,” he growls. “But perhaps this was your intention huh? Because you get off on being punished don’t you? You love the pain I give you. All you had to do was wait and be patient, but no, you had to be a selfish little brat.”

Soon he’s releasing into you before you have chance to orgasm yourself, he pulls out of you- his tentacles retracting. Hastily spins around, picks you up so you’re lying against the table, before spreading your legs again, and re-enters you again, making you feel every ridge of his monstrous cock as he split you open, deeply and slowly. Slowly, bringing you to another orgasm. The outlines of his cock could be seen in your stomach, and you moaned at the sight. His hands grip your waist, you’re gripping his arms that are incasing you, your nails digging into his skin. His scarlet orbs never leaving yours as he fucks you.

“You’re being such a good girl now, so quiet and obedient. Look how well you take my cock,” he growls softly, “this pussy is made to take my cock and mine only. Not Douma’s, so I don’t want to hear that bastard’s name come out of your lips again, understood?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you nod tiredly, you could feel yourself slipping into your headspace, as you could feel your walls tightening around his cock again. You knew you were close again, the ache was becoming too much, “you know I love only you. I just was missing you and miss how good you make me feel.”

“I know Princess. And I’m sorry for making you feel forgotten, but I promise I have not. I’ve just been super stressed,” his strokes become slower, deeper, his grunts were becoming more labored you knew he was close too. “This war isn’t going to be easy.“

“I know and I’ve been extra needy - I’m afraid of losing you,” you whisper softly, reaching up with one of your hands to caress his face, loving the way he leans into your touch.

He leans down in between thrusts, capturing your lips in a soft-yet demanding kiss, you moan when his tongue brushes against yours. “You won’t lose me, I promise, my love,” he says in between kisses. “You’ve been so good for me, go ahead and cum for me, sweetheart.”

finally you do, like a big crashing wave, your legs shake as you finally are able to let go, spraying Muzan and he growls in pride.

“That’s it, make a mess for me.”

Not long after he’s releasing into you. Once he’s filled you to brim with his hot seed, he pulls out watching as it gushes out with a satisfied hum. He starts to change back into his human form, but you shake you’re head.

“No stay like this, I love your true demon form.”

“Anything for you, Sweetheart,” then he’s lifting you his arms, and sits down with you in his lap. He settles you so you’re straddling him, and lines his tip with your entrance guiding it through your folds once more. “Now be a good girl and warm my cock for me while I continue my work.”

#demon slayer #muzan x y/n #kny muzan #muzan imagine #muzan kibutsuji #demon slayer muzan #muzan smut #yandere muzan #Muzan one shot #whitehairmuzan #demon king muzan

[globalrebrand]

Floyd, Jade, Leona and Malleus requests. They all have a good nose, how do they react when they smell S/o masturbating? in the end the smell gets stronger and s/o comes to orgasm (I leave it up to you if s/o ends up moaning their names)

When they walk in on you

Warnings: Not sfw, crack

A/N: This was not quite the prompt but I hope you still enjoy it.

Leona:

*sniff*

Ohhhhh...it's like that, is it herbivore? If he was a few rooms away Leona is now leaning with one elbow propped against your doorframe, smirking with obvious sultry intent.

He approaches the bed leisurely all while he teases you relentlessly. If you were watching something he asks what you were looking at and judges you so hard about it.

"That guy has nothing on me, wouldn't you rather have the real thing?" Grabs his crotch.

Gets deeply offended if you tell him to get out. "Oi, don't tell me to get out, I'm here to help."

Settles down next to you and knocks your hands away from your sex and starts pleasuring you himself, while bringing the same hand to his now rapidly hardening sex.

He helps you, you help him. Now take your top off and turn the porn back on.

Malleus:

Pouts. Why didn't you call him?

The minute he can smell you in a different part of the castle he immediately transports to your location looking sullen like a child who was told they can’t have ice cream.

He'll say something dramatic and whiny, "Dearest rose, do you have needs I cannot fulfill?" if he's being nice and if he's not he'll say, "I know that there are no needs you have that I cannot fulfill." 😡

Take you fingers out of/off of your bits and explain to him right now.

If you're using a toy he'll ask you about what technology you're using to replace him.

Promises he can serve you better. Drops to his knees and pulls you by your legs to the edge of your bed and situates himself between your thighs. You should be grateful, Malleus gets on his knees for no one else but you.

If you needed pleasure you should've come to him rather than relying on the futuristic contraption that he can't figure out how to turn off so he just breaks it

He can’t believe you of all people didn’t invite him to an important event (you getting off)

Jade:

Super stealthy, you won’t even notice him as he creeps into the space after his keen nose follows your increasing potent scent.

Jade could have been standing in the doorway for 2 minutes or 30, Silent and observent. When you finally notice him he’ll just chuckle sinisterly and tell you to keep going.

Don't mind if he pulls up a chair though, he wants a closer look.

Begins touching himself over his clothes as he tells you to give him a good show. Don't bore him now or Jade will have to take things into his own hands.

He tells you exactly what he would do to help you get off but doesn't bother to touch you.

"Your finger's don't reach there? What a shame. Mine would easily, I’d also suck on your chest while I played with you. That would sure make you come fast now wouldn’t it?😈”

If you want him to touch you you're going to have to beg and even then he’ll make you work for it.

Jade wants this orgasm to be such a laborious experience that you won’t fail to call him to assist you in the future, lest he subject you to the same pleasurable torture.

Floyd:

Awww he was here you know?

Stop it, don't do it while he's nearby. It's rude.

Sulks.

"You better ride me if you want me to forgive you, a blowjob at minimum"

He'll wait. Why aren't you servicing him yet? Curb stomps whatever sex toy you were using.

Sits in the edge of the bed pants around his ankles and dick out. Super impatient about it.

“Don’t make me come over the shrimpy, you made me horny now help me out.”

Ask him if he’ll help you out and he’ll say tell you only if you keep him motivated. Which means if you don’t cum first he’ll leave you high and dry, so get to it!

Vil:

Who told you that your orgasms were yours hmmm? Don't you know they belong to him?

You better not have been in the toy chest without his permission. You don't come unless he gives you permission.

*sigh* "I guess it's time for the belt."

Sometimes he'll spank you and be done with it but sometimes the belt, means chastity belt and he'll keep you locked up for as long as he sees fit, some times a day or more.

"I wasn't going to curse the toy chest but maybe I should if you can't respect the rules."

Curses it in the future so that if you try to open it and use one of the toys without him, you can't reach orgasm until you come to him.

If you want to come, you're going to have to beg. On your knees, clinging to his trousers. He'll make you do something demeaning like hump his foot to get off.

#floyd leech #leona kingscholar smut #twst leona #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar #leona smut #leona x reader #floyd leech x reader #twst floyd #floyd smut #floyd leech smut #vil smut #vil schoenheit smut #vil schoenheit x reader #vil x reader #twst vil #twst jade #jade leech #jade leech x reader #jade x reader #floyd x reader #malleus smut #malleus twst #twst malleus #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader

[ganseybois]

tommy (at this point already casually dating buck) hanging out with eddie and calling him out on his feelings

alternatively eddie last minute helping maddie before the wedding and maddie calling him out on his feelings

or both

both? both. both is good :D i hope you enjoy it, it got a little long haha! if you want to send me a buddie prompt, click here!

Tommy is the first one to bring it up.

They're finishing up on the basketball court, and everyone has filed out by this point, leaving the two of them alone. Tommy is driving Eddie back anyhow, and today was an intense game, so they're taking their time.

Why Tommy chooses to bring it up before the car ride, Eddie doesn't know. But what a way to make it awkward.

"Hey, man I need to tell you something," he says as they return to the car. "So you're not blindsighted when it happens."

"Everything okay?" Eddie asks, clearly concerned.

"Well, not really." he lets out a tired laugh. "Uh...I'm going to be breaking up with Evan. I wanted to tell you so that, you know, you could do what you do and be there for him."

Shocked, Eddie steps in front of Tommy, "Wait, what? I thought things were going great with the two of you." he feels his gut twist uncomfortably - the last thing Eddie wants in the whole world is to see Buck hurt again. "Tommy, come on, Buck is great. He's amazing. There's not a thing about him to not like."

Tommy scoffs, "Believe me, Eddie, I know that."

"So then what's wrong?"

"Eddie, seriously?" Tommy rolls his eyes. "I can't keep dating him and ignore...whatever it is you two have going on. I like Buck, a lot, I do but, there is clearly something between the two of you."

Eddie lets out a small laugh of disbelief. "Tommy," he says, grinning, trying to find his footing in this conversation. The rug has been swept out from under him. Him? And Buck? No way. "He's my best friend. That's all."

"You know Eddie," Tommy rolls his eyes, walking past him now. "I know everyone is a bit of an idiot with love, but you're acting obtuse purposely."

Eddie turns around and follows, "Hey," he snaps. "I'm sorry if we're too close for you to handle, but I'm not going to apologize for being his best friend."

"I don't want you to Eddie, really, I don't. But you should both take your head out of your asses so that you can stop hurting other people." 

That stops Eddie from making a retort. 

Tommy picks up his pace as he walks over to unlock his door, as though he can escape Eddie and erase the fact that he is also driving Eddie home. That they are going to have to share a space for twenty minutes before Eddie can leave and be alone, and send Tommy on his way to break his best friend’s heart. 

Does Eddie love Buck? 

Of course. 

Buck is his best friend. Why wouldn’t he love him? How could he not? Buck is beautiful, and kind, takes care of his son, and has been there for Eddie since the day that they met. Buck is honest and hopeful, Buck is tender and funny, he is knowledgeable and earnest. He’s the best friend anyone could ever ask for. Eddie knows all this, and of course he loves him for it. 

But that doesn’t mean he’s in love with him…does it?

***

“Thank you so much for helping me Eddie,” Maddie sighs as they walk into her house, Eddie with boxes stacked in his arms. He doesn’t even know what’s inside them - Maddie needed help, so he agreed. 

“Sure thing,” he kicks the door shut and follows her to the kitchen, gently laying the boxes on the table. “Here’s okay?”

“Perfect,” she rubs his back. “Want some coffee? You’re welcome to stay for a while.”

“Coffee sounds great, thanks,” Eddie nods, watching her move around her kitchen. He feels a little awkward–he likes Maddie just fine, but really, he hasn’t spent too much time with her, so he isn’t sure where to strike conversation. They already spent an hour talking about kids in his truck, he feels like he’s used Christopher enough. 

“So,” she says, tone careful and light, prepping mugs. “Did Buck tell you about Tommy?” 

“Yeah, he did.” Eddie murmurs, Tommy and Buck broke up three days ago. Eddie listened to Buck tell the story, and hugged him tight. He gave him beer, ordered him food, and let Buck stay over for the night so he wouldn’t have to be alone. 

At least you’re always going to be here, Eddie, right?

Nowhere else I’d rather be, Buck. 

Eddie broke up with Marisol a day later. He has tried not to think too hard about why that is but…he has spent the last three days thinking about what Tommy has said. 

Eddie clears his throat. “It sucks, I thought this would work out for Buck for sure.”

Maddie sighs sadly, starting to prepare the coffee for them, before she turns around and gazes at him fondly. “I already knew it wouldn’t.” When Eddie just continues to look at her, she rolls her eyes and smiles. “Eddie, come on.”

“What?” he asks. 

“Seriously? You’re going to make me spell it out for you?”

He feels his heart skip a beat, understanding dawning on him. “Maddie,” he shakes his head with a small laugh, although what he wants is to run in the other fucking direction. “Listen-”

“All I do is listen, Eddie. I listen to my brother talk about you like you hung the sun in the sky. I listen to him complain when he can’t see you and Chris. I listen to him talk about everything you do for him, everything you say to him.”

“He’s my best friend,” Eddie says, feeling cornered. 

“I know that I really do. And maybe I’m wrong, maybe I don’t know you as well as I think I do but…I know my brother. It could have never worked with Tommy, because he was too busy being in love with you.”

“Maddie-”

“Hey, maybe I’m wrong,” she says, pouring their coffee. Why do these things never happen when he’s about to leave? “But look into his eyes Eddie, and you’ll see it. Promise me.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to do. 

A little part of him admits that he’s afraid to look. Afraid of what he’ll find. 

“Maddie,” he says softly. “He’s my best friend.”

“Eddie.” she sighs. “You look at Buck the way I look at Chimney. The way Karen looks at Hen. The way Bobby looks at Athena. This is so far beyond what you think it is. Promise me you’ll think about it.”

“I promise.”

***

Eddie thinks about it all the way to Buck’s house. 

He thinks about his life, about what makes sense, about his son, and what makes sense in his son’s life. He thinks about the obvious - is he happier when Buck is around? Yes. Did he like Marisol? Not really. Was that because of Buck? He doesn’t know. 

Does he miss Buck when he’s not there? Yes. 

Does he think Buck makes him a better person? Yes. 

Does he love Buck? Yes. 

Yes. 

Yes. 

He makes it to Buck’s apartment and knocks on the door. It opens a moment later. 

Look into his eyes, Eddie. 

Eddie looks. 

Buck smiles, bright as a thousand suns. Just because Eddie thought to come over, to just spend time with him. 

Buck’s eyes sparkle – there is love there, warmth, undying devotion.  

Eddie, finally, can see.  

“Can I come in?” Eddie asks. 

Buck steps aside, and Eddie takes the first step into the rest of his life.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 #911 prompt #buddie prompt #ask #prompt #buck x eddie

[kamaluhkhan]

we were wild and fluorescent (come home to my heart)

pairing: conrad fisher x fem!reader

summary: you come back to cousins beach after a few years away. conrad is not particularly happy that you're back - and you aren't particularly thrilled, either. too bad there's a history (chemistry?) neither of you can deny.

warnings: nostalgia + fluff + a bit of a *steamy* ending ; mentions of sex; swearing; conrad and reader drink alcohol; reader is a competitive swimmer + deals with a lot of pressure; complicated family dynamics (reader has two younger siblings + is eldest daughter); pop culture references (it book/movie, percy jackson series), this chapter is very long + ending is a little cheesy !!

tags: @stargirlsirius-recs, @ifilwtmfc, @qwertyb2577, @allnrsnz, @baconeggndcheez, @peanutbelley, @imogen-skye, @geekinthefuschiahair, @tvije, @drikawinchester, @maybankslover, @junnniiieee07, @elcpsstuff, @fangirl-kimora, @redbierd, @starkeylover, @serrendiipty, @jackierose902109, @lonelywitchv2, @c4rpediem-s, @teensyflowur, @peteronesgf, @percysaidnever

a/n: i literally cannot express how much it means to me that people are reading + enjoying my work!! thank you endlessly for following this story. this chapter is mostly fluff with a lot of banter between the reader and conrad + nostalgia. i'm thinking this will be the last part (....unless?) so i hope you enjoy it :)

part one | part two | part three

on a summer afternoon / i get to thinkin' 'bout the hazy days / under august shade that i used to spend with you (khai dreams, “sunkissed”)

now — summer age 18

you’re already frustrated when you walk over to the beck house, and when the person you least want to answer the door opens it, your mood goes from bad to worse.

"hey. is jere home?" you ask, peering behind conrad to see if someone else, anyone else is there. this is the first time since your argument that you and he were alone together, and you really don't want to look him in the eye. he doesn't look too thrilled to see you standing on his porch, either. he looks at you with tired eyes, wearing a black, short-sleeved rashguard and hair dripping wet. 

"no, sorry." 

"how about steven?"

conrad shakes his head and droplets of water go flying. he says something about prep for the debutante ball.

you exhale sharply, upset that your backup plan just fell through. "okay, bye."

you start walking away, but conrad calls your name. 

"everything okay?"

you're surprised by his follow-up question — suspicious, even. given the harsh words you'd exchanged the last time you were together, you assumed that conrad didn't very much care to prolong a conversation with you, much less whether or not you were okay. whatever his intentions are, you don't really have time to go down this road. 

"everything's fine," you answer loudly, still forging ahead.

"come on, y/n. i know you." 

your hands clench into fists at his words and you finally stop in your tracks. 

"conrad," you huff, turning around to face him. "i really don't have time for this." 

"look, i'm not…." conrad sighs, running a hand through his wet hair. "i'm not trying to start anything. you seem a little stressed, and if there's anything i can do….just, let me be there for you."

conrad used to always be there for you in situations like these, and you ignored the sharp pain in your heart earlier when you decided he couldn't be this time. you really, really, really want to stay mad at him — you certainly have enough reasons to be for several lifetimes — but the gentleness of conrad's tone calms you down as much as it throws you off. instinctively, you feel your hands unclench, your heartbeat slow down. 

“so, what’s wrong?”

you sigh. your siblings had planned an overnight trip with their friends at a campground about 3 hours away. they were meant to leave this afternoon, but the chaperones just cancelled — one had car trouble and the other a work emergency. now, they didn’t have a ride or adult supervision, which left you to come up with an alternative, lest you want to spend the rest of your summer drying your siblings’ tears and dealing with a lengthy guilt trip from your mother (who, conveniently, has plans this weekend and can’t reschedule). you left that last part out of your story to conrad, explaining only the basic components of your dilemma.

“but, it’s fine. i’ll sort something out.” as you wait for conrad to respond, you’re already running through a few other alternatives in your mind. you’re just in the middle of estimating the amount of money you would spend on gas when conrad says:

"well, i can come with you." 

you quirk your eyebrow at him. “yeah, you don’t need —”

“you’ll need two cars — and two drivers — to get them there, right? i'm not doing anything right now, or tomorrow.”

“it’s not your problem, conrad. i’ll figure something out —”

“look, you have three options," he interrupts, tilting his head at you. "one, you take two trips yourself to get them all there, which means you’d spend around 10 hours driving each way and waste a ton of money on gas.”

you stiffen. 

you hate that he knows exactly how your brain works….

“two, the twins have to cancel their trip, and you spend the rest of the summer with your siblings upset at you and your mom suggesting that you’re a bad sister, which is not true.”

you hate that he understands exactly the situation you’re in….

“three, you let me help you.”

….and you hate that he always insists on being helpful.

that was the real reason that you didn’t want to ask conrad — because you suspected that he might offer to help regardless of the tension between you two. the conrad you remember was always concerned with doing the right thing, no matter what, and despite how different he’s acting this summer, you knew that caring boy was still there, deep down.

sometimes, you hate being right — it can get a bit tedious.

conrad waits for you to answer, but he obviously knows you well enough to guess your decision. you don’t find the prospect of camping with conrad particularly appealing, but you’re desperate.

you tell conrad to be ready to leave in an hour, before walking back to your place to tell your siblings the good news.

a little over an hour later, your siblings, their friends — devi, khadija, kai, and leo — and all the camping supplies are split in between your and conrad’s cars. you decided to divide the group into threes: you’d drive your sister, khadija and leo; and conrad would drive your brother, devi, and kai. once everyone’s buckled in, you and conrad close the trunk of your respective cars and turn to each other.

“so, we’ve got a spot booked at stardust falls, but the plan is to stop halfway —”

“at sophie’s for a bite to eat,” conrad finishes, a smile creeping on his face. “i know the drill.”

you bite back a smile yourself before nodding at him and getting in the driver's seat.

as your sister cues up a playlist — you had just made her watch lemonade mouth so she was currently obsessed with hayley kiyoko and her music — you get lost in memories of summers past. 

it was a tradition, many years ago: your siblings were too young to join, so for one weekend in late august it was you, conrad, jeremiah, belly, and steven with susannah and laurel, the seven of you piled into a minivan for an overnight camping trip. you spent the drive blasting music and singing along, playing ‘i spy’ while gorging on goldfish crackers and sunny d. about halfway through, there would be a pit stop to refill the gas tank, stock up on snacks, and get something to eat from the nearby diner. you would always get waffles with extra whipped cream and conrad would get chocolate chip pancakes, and you’d always split the food between you. once you got to stardust falls, you’d spend the afternoon swimming and sunbathing, and the night roasting hot dogs and marshmallows, stargazing and whispering until sunrise. 

as much as you loved laurel and susannah, you and conrad would dream of getting your driver’s licence and being able to continue the tradition with just the kids. you never got the chance; it was only five years ago, when you were the same age as your siblings now, that you had gone on your last camping trip to the same location. 

it seems your dreams were finally coming true — just not in the way you expected.

when you get to sophie’s diner, you’re relieved to have a chance to stretch your legs. the eight of you get a familiar booth in the right corner and you find yourself squeezed between devi and the window. the waiter distributes menus to everyone, and it isn’t until you look down that you see it: your initials next to ‘CF’. last time you were here, the five of you all carved your initials onto the table when the moms weren’t looking. you forgot that you’d placed yours right next to conrad’s; to be fair, you were always sitting next to each other. now he’s at the other end of the table on the opposite side, examining the menu carefully even after being here so many times. 

this time, you just get a coffee and steal some bacon from your brother; conrad doesn’t get anything, claiming he isn’t hungry, until your sister offers him the rest of her french toast, which he practically inhales. after, you and conrad fill up on gas while your siblings and their friends go into the store for some snacks. 

“hey, can you get me some sour patch kids?” you ask your brother, handing him a $5 bill. your brother nods and starts walking away; you glance at conrad, then add: “and some m&m’s, too!” to which your brother offers a thumbs up. 

“thanks,” conrad says. he removes the nozzle and sticks it into the gas tank; you do the same, and for a few moments, there’s nothing but silence between you.

“does listening to the lightning thief musical on repeat make your brother a theatre kid?” 

you turn to face conrad, who’s already looking at you with a lopsided smile. 

“i think it makes him more of a percy jackson kid,” you decide.

“well, he has good taste. i didn’t even know there was a percy jackson musical,” conrad adds. 

“i know, right?” you gush. “my brother and kai went to see it off broadway, and of course i had to chaperone, but i’m so glad i did because how, in the name of all the gods, did we not know this existed?”

conrad laughs. “we would have been obsessed,” he agrees. 

you smile, feeling yourself hit by another wave of nostalgia. 

when you were younger, you, conrad, jeremiah, steven, and belly loved the percy jackson series, rotating the books between the five of you until everyone had read them, the covers well-worn and sand stuck between the pages. so, for belly’s 9th birthday, laurel wrote out a prophecy with an elaborate quest for the five of you to go on - something about searching for poseidon's missing trident - while susannah used the time to fashion the backyard into your very own camp half-blood. you each got ‘assigned’ a godly parent: apollo for jeremiah, ever the sunshine boy; hermes for steven, the trickster of the group; aphrodite for belly, who looked at the world with rose coloured glasses; poseidon for you, because you loved the water; and athena for conrad, wise beyond his years. 

yes, your heart did skip a beat, because of what a perfect coincidence — that conrad was essentially the annabeth to your percy. when would the two of you share the best underwater kiss of all time? 

after a fun-filled afternoon, you each took home a necklace filled with clay beads, as was tradition at the fictional camp half-blood. even after summer ended, you would always wear yours in between swim competitions and practice. somewhere along the way, you misplaced it; it was probably left on the chlorine soaked floor of a locker room. you wondered if the others still had theirs, if conrad even remembered. 

he’s looking at you now with such wistfulness, you have a feeling he does. when he looks at you like that, it’s easy to forget that you’re mad at him and he broke your heart. scratch that: you’re mad at him because he broke your heart. 

and, not that it solves everything between you, but he’s here and didn’t have to be, and that maybe possibly heals something inside you. 

before you can continue the conversation, a sudden click indicates that the gas tanks are full, just in time for your siblings and their friends to exit the convenience store, carrying a significant haul of snacks and drinks. 

your brother hands you the sour patch kids and m&m’s, and you toss the bag of m&m’s at conrad, which he catches effortlessly. you rip open the package with your teeth and stuff a few of the sour candies in your mouth as everyone piles back into their respective cars.

you open the door to get in the driver’s seat, but the passenger side is empty. that’s when you notice that your sister and devi were still walking back from the store, taking their time. your sister laughs a little louder than usual, her smile a bit brighter when devi bends down to steal a sip of her drink. she’s wearing a jacket that you’ve never seen and probably belongs to devi, and your sister’s pair of sunglasses now rests on devi’s head. technically the sunglasses were yours, before you passed them down to your sister, but still — it’s adorable. devi winks at your sister before slipping into the backseat of conrad's car. your sister sighs contently before freezing at the realisation that you witnessed the moment between them.

"what?" she asks, a little flustered.

something makes you glance over your shoulder at conrad, who you now realise had seen the interaction between your sister and devi as well. beside him, the door to the driver’s side is also open, but he doesn’t get in. instead, conrad raises his eyebrows at you and smiles knowingly.

“nothing,” you say, smiling back at conrad, then at your sister. “but hurry up, if you want to make it to the falls before sundown.”

your sister mumbles something and gets in the car, while you check the route one more time. you tell conrad which one has the least amount of traffic, and soon enough, you’re on the road again.

conrad follows closely behind you, never allowing more than a car between before catching up. you glance in the rearview mirror and see your brother belting the words to what you assume is the percy jackson musical, and conrad is even bopping his head along. in your car, your sister is busy reading the song of achilles while the others in the back are relatively quiet. 

“so what’s going on with you and discount james dean?” your sister suddenly asks. she puts her book down, reaches over into the cupholder to grab a few sour patch kids. 

you laugh at the nickname, even if the answer disappoints you, just a bit.

“nothing.” 

out of the corner of your eye, you can glimpse your sister roll her eyes. 

“that seems to be your favourite word today,” she notes.

“fine, how about this for a change of pace….there was definitely something earlier between you and devi.”  

your sister’s jaw drops and she turns around to see if her friends heard, but khadija is asleep and leo has his headphones on, looking down at his phone.

“y/n!” 

“what!” you mock her incredulous tone. “you’re not fooling anyone.”

“i’m not…we’re not…” your sister stumbles over her words, turning her head sharply to face out the window. she plays with the sleeve of devi’s jacket, which she’s still wearing despite it almost being 85 degrees. the same music as before fills the space, and hayley kiyoko sings about girls liking girls as you wait for your sister to answer. 

she finally sighs when the song ends. “i like her, okay? but we’re just friends.”

at her words, you’re overwhelmed by an eerie sense of deja vu. if you could have done things differently, maybe you would have. and maybe, just maybe, you can help your sister have a better outcome — whatever that means for her. 

“look, kid, i know it feels like the end of the world, but you have options,” you promise. “one, you tell her and she doesn’t feel the same way; your relationship is forever ruined and your other friends have to choose sides —”

“y/n! seriously?”

“i’m just preparing you for the worst case scenario,” you defend, exiting the highway. “the best case scenario is that you tell her how you feel, or she feels the same way and beats you to it, and it all works out. and there is, of course, the secret third option.”

“what’s that?”

you shrug. “easy. you never cross that line.” you follow the signs that lead you to your destination.

“and bottle up my feelings forever,” your sister grumbles. “is that what you and conrad did?”

you make a right into the campground and put the car in park; conrad’s car pulls up next to you a few seconds later. you turn off the engine.

“not exactly.”

_________________________________________

you and conrad unpack the trunks as your siblings and their friends set up their tents. you hear their giddy banter as they plan how to spend the rest of the afternoon, as well as the sleeping arrangements. you smile to yourself when you hear devi suggest that she and your sister share a tent. the cars are pretty much empty except for some food to keep away animals, but you notice that not everything made the trip.

you double check your car, then conrad’s, before calling over your brother.

“yo, what happened to my bag?” you ask him. 

“i thought it was your swim stuff, so i took it out of the trunk,” he explains. “did you need it?”

“oh no, no. it just had all my clothes, my sleeping bag and my tent,” you say sarcastically. “no big deal.”

your brother gives you a thumbs up, clearly not getting the message. he seems more interested in kai, who's currently unpacking his guitar.

“cool,” he says before walking back to his friends. 

you huff and close your trunk. at least there is some balance in the universe: the mosquito repellant was in your bag, and your brother is usually their favourite meal. you always have afterbite, or you would have, if you had your stuff with you. 

thankfully, you had your bathing suit underneath your clothes, and you could sleep in the backseat, even if it wasn’t the most comfortable…

“everything okay?” conrad sneaks up behind you.

“turns out none of my stuff is here.” you shrug. “but it’s fine.”

“i mean, we could share my stuff,” conrad offers, lifting up his bag. knowing him, he’s probably overprepared and carefully packed, even with only an hour’s notice.

you look at him for a second. 

“let’s sort that out later, yeah?” you decide, ignoring how the prospect of wearing his clothes, sharing a tent with him, makes your heart beat faster. “i’m itching to go for a swim.”

taking advantage of the late afternoon sun, you all slather on sunscreen, throw on colourful swimsuits with sunglasses, and relax near the water. it’s only a short walk away from where you’d set up camp, and all your tents (well, except yours) are still in view. your brother, leo, and khadija are sitting down on their towels while playing cards. kai has borrowed your sister’s copy of the song of achilles to read. your sister and devi are, splashing each other in the water. conrad is reading a worn of stephen king’s it, a bottle of lemonade resting next to him.    

khadija brought her wireless speaker, and out of all your siblings’ friends, you’re thankful that she has the best taste in music. “this is the day” by the the plays in the background of everyone’s laughter and playful banter. you swim idly in the water, let your skin absorb the sunlight, and take it all in.

as much as you were stressed this morning, you’re practically floating with joy now. you feel like a kid again — and it finally feels like summer. 

your eyes land on conrad once more. he sits in the shade and you’re craving a sip of his drink, so you get out of the water and settle down next to him like it’s the most natural thing for you to do. you’re dripping on his towel, but he doesn’t seem to care; he hands you the bottle of lemonade without a word. you take a sip, surprised that it’s slightly bitter. 

“does this have vodka in it?” you cough. 

“yeah,” conrad answers, putting his book down. he takes off his sunglasses and rests them on his head. “i can get you something else, if you want.”

you shake your head and take another sip. “it’s fine. just don’t let the kids drink any alcohol, okay?”

“i won’t.” he offer you a wry smile. “but you know they’re not kids, right? they’re teenagers.”

“it feels weird calling them teenagers,” you say. he’s sitting up with his knees bent, and you lay down next to him, but not before stealing his sunglasses to shield your eyes. the sun moved slightly, and starts to peek through the leaves of the tree that was providing shade.

“just because we grew up, doesn’t mean they have to," you add once you're comfortable. 

conrad hums. you tilt your head to look at him and notice his eyes lingering on the tattoo below the band of your lime green bikini top. you smile — he blushes, then looks away. conrad takes the lemonade bottle back from you and swallows a mouthful. you close your eyes, let the sun wash over you.

“my mom told me you got into stanford,” he says suddenly. “that’s really cool that you get to go to california. just like you wanted, right?”

“i thought you hated horror,” you say, referencing the book you saw him reading earlier. you desperately want to change the subject — your father is still pushing princeton because of their swim team rankings, and your mother is too busy spending her free time in bars to really care. needless to say, where you’re going to college isn’t a topic you want to discuss, unless you’re looking to ruin this perfect sunny afternoon.

conrad just looks at you for a second before playing along.

“i usually do, but this guy on my football team wouldn’t shut up about stephen king, so i thought i’d give it a try. you’ve read it?”

“no, but i saw the movies. i cried so much in it: chapter two, like i was practically choking on tears in the middle of this dark theatre. my ex had no idea why i was crying so much.”

“why did you cry so much?”

you open your eyes. it takes you a beat to respond, because you never really thought about it that deeply. by now, the song has changed to david bowie’s ‘heroes,’ and watching your siblings and their friends goof off in the middle of summer makes you feel like a background character in a coming of age movie, when five years ago you would have been one of the main characters. you miss those days, almost as much as you miss what you had with the boy next to you.

“because it reminded me of this,” you admit. 

conrad lets out a small chuckle. “did i miss the summer where we fought a killer clown?”

“no, smart ass,” you shove his leg playfully. “but there were other things that were just as intimidating. like, parents who were jerks with soul-crushing expectations, and younger siblings who needed to be taken care of. drinking problems, cancer diagnoses, divorces. just…everything, you know? it was summer, we were kids, and things were just scary sometimes, but we always faced it together. and, then…”

“we grew up,” conrad finishes. 

“yeah,” you muse. you lift the sunglasses off your face to look at conrad, and he’s already gazing down at you. if you closed your eyes again, you could imagine laurel and susannah sitting by the water and gossiping, steven and jeremiah diving underwater to try and catch a fish with their bare hands, and belly laying in the sun while reading a romance novel she's probably too young to read. but all you see now is conrad, smiling at you softly with the golden sunlight shining behind him, and it makes your heart ache. 

belly mentioned that they hadn't been back here since you stopped coming to cousins. because it wasn't the same.

your voice drops to a whisper. “i'm sorry i ruined it."

"don't give yourself so much credit." his smile at you sadly. "we both made things messy; i should be sorry, too."

"are you?" 

he hesitates, finishes off the bottle of lemonade. 

"yeah," he finally says. "i'm sorry."

and it doesn’t feel like enough, but instead of worrying about what would happen tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after, you just focus on today. you relax back down on the towel next to conrad, and let the sunshine and sounds of summer fun wash over you.

the afternoon fades into the evening, and once everyone's dry, you get started on dinner, then dessert.

it's so familiar: the warm glow of the campfire, the smell of burnt marshmallows, the slight itch on your skin from where a mosquito must have bitten you, the pressure of conrad's knee pressed against yours. 

you get up for more graham crackers, and your sister follows you. 

"so, i hear you and conrad are sharing a tent," she teases. "you're welcome."

"why would i thank you?" you wonder, biting into a graham cracker. 

a wicked smile appears on your sister's face. "well, i was the one who told our dear brother that you wouldn't need your bag. i figured your boyfriend would have everything you need."

"conrad's not my boyfriend," you remind her, a little annoyed. you and conrad made nice earlier, but the peace between you is precarious. you aren't particularly thrilled to be in a situation where you're confined to close quarters together — much less now that you know it's been fabricated by your own sister.

"so then why are you and conrad sleeping together in a one person tent?" she challenges, crossing her arms.

"do you want me to sleep outside and get eaten by werewolves?" 

your sister rolls her eyes, but you notice how she shudders just a little bit. 

"those don't exist," she declares, her voice a little shaky. your sister is old enough to know that monsters aren't real, but you still get a kick out of scaring her - especially when she's done something to frustrate you.

"oh, sure they do," you reply easily. conrad arrives at the table next to you just in time, probably to check on those graham crackers you'd promised to get. "stardust falls is crawling with werewolves, right con?"

"no," he answers. your sister sighs with relief too soon, because conrad continues. "only on the full moon…." he makes a big show of pulling down his sleeve and checking his watch. "which is tonight, if i remember correctly." 

"but, don't worry," you wink at your sister. "devi will protect you."

there's a moment of silence between the three of you, before you and conrad burst out laughing. 

"you guys are the worst!" your sister groans. you and conrad are still laughing as she grabs an unopened bag of marshmallows and snatches the pack of graham crackers from you before storming away. 

"thanks,” you say once you’ve both calmed down. 

he grins at you, reaching over to grab an orange. “my pleasure.” 

you smile back at him before walking back to the campfire, already feeling warmth spread through your chest.

_________________________________________

when the night is at its darkest, everyone decides that it’s probably time for bed. you triple check to make sure the fire is out and all the food is away, and then everyone goes into their tent — with you as the exception.

you and conrad never circled back to whether or not you’d be staying in the tent with him, so you end up staying out by the water. 

there’s still some rustling and whispers from the tents behind you, but mostly you’re left with the soft trill of crickets, and what sounds like an owl in the distance. you’re still wearing your bikini top and cutoff shorts, even though there’s a cool breeze near the water, because you didn’t really have another option. conrad was right earlier — it’s a full moon, and you’re thankful that it provides some light. the sky is clear enough that you can also see the stars. you’re so lost in looking for constellations that you’re startled by the sudden appearance of shadow right next to you.

“shit, conrad. you gave me a heart attack!” you exclaim, just loud enough for conrad to hear and quiet enough to not wake the others.

“sorry,” he whispers back, sitting down next to you with a lantern. “i couldn’t sleep.” conrad tilts his head up. “but, i come bearing gifts.”

conrad hands you one of the mugs he’s holding — not the usual thermos you’d bring for camping, but ones that you’d find in the kitchen back at the beach house.  

in the dim light, you see that it’s your favorite mug, the same mug you’d dropped during your argument a few weeks ago. the cracked porcelain is so carefully repaired, you wouldn’t have known it was broken. 

“thanks,” you whisper. you take a sip of the lukewarm hot chocolate, but the warmth that spreads through your body is from conrad’s gesture more than anything.

conrad nods and points up at the stars. “find anything good?”

you launch into a detailed explanation of what constellations you’ve found so far — and, when that’s over, you continue making up stories like you’re david attenborough narrating a nature documentary. sure, it’s ridiculous to use a very serious british accent to suggest that king kong and godzilla are immortalised in the night sky, but it makes conrad chuckle, and you decide that’s worth all the stars in the universe.

in between stories, conrad asks: "are you cold?" 

conrad already knows the answer, because he passes you a light jacket without you saying a word. you shrug it on, and practically sink into the familiar fabric.

"so you're the one who had my varsity jacket," you realize. it smells like him now: lemon and sandalwood. 

conrad smiles sheepishly and shrugs. "it's a good jacket — what was i supposed to do, not wear it? you left it last summer."

last summer. 

the words hang heavy between you. 

 “y/n —”

“con —”

you both stop, waiting for the other to continue. there have been enough moments this summer where you’ve cut your heart open and conrad just watched you bleed. a part of you wanted him to do the same, even though you know how much it hurts. 

“why did you come back that night?” he asks. conrad is usually confident, sturdy, reliable; right now, though, he’s the most timid you’ve ever seen him.

“i needed to.”

“why?” he presses.

you bite the inside of your cheek, remembering yourself a year ago and all the pressure you felt, from your parents and coaches. you used to love swimming, and you realized too late how much competing took over your life. things weren’t perfect at home, either, but you were trying your best to guard that truth from your siblings. ironically, that was part of the reason you had distanced yourself from conrad in the months prior: you knew he would worry, and you didn't want to burden him.

you tell bits and pieces of this to conrad, cutting yourself open once more.

“i felt like i was drowning,” you admit. “i tried so hard to hide it —  just keep swimming, right? but it got to be too much. so last summer, when i had a meet nearby, i just had to see you, because i knew that you were the one person in the world who would jump in and save me.”

“i didn’t know.” is all conrad says for a moment. you don’t add anything, because you find yourself in the same position as always: vulnerable, pouring your heart out.

“what you said on the fourth — you were right,” conrad sighs. “when you came last summer, i was already mad at you for not coming back to cousins for so long, and then you were leaving again and i was hurt. and - it’s fucked up, but i wanted to hurt you, too.”

“mission accomplished,” you laugh sadly.

“i shouldn’t have said what i said that morning last summer, and i shouldn’t have ignored you after.”

“you shouldn’t have ignored me this summer, either” you add. you can’t help calling him out for his shitty behaviour lately as well.

“hey, you ignored me, too,” he points out. “and, yeah, maybe i deserved it. there’s just a lot going on and….” conrad trails off, his gaze fixed on something in the distance, where a sliver of golden sunlight peeks through the horizon. you and conrad must have been talking for hours because morning is now just around the corner. “i know i was a jerk. just please know how sorry i am — for everything.” 

you’re about to say something, but you can’t seem to find the right words. i'm sorry too didn't feel like enough. instead, you reach out and grab conrad’s hand. it’s cold in yours, but you don’t care.

“i can’t lose you,” conrad whispers, almost choking on the words. he squeezes your hand. “i can’t lose you, too.”

“i’m here, connie,” you whisper back. with your other hand, you brush some hair out of his eyes before using your thumb to wipe a stray tear from his cheek.  “and i’m really glad you’re here, too.”

throughout the entire conversation, you and conrad had moved closer together — now, your shoulders are touching and your left leg is bent over his right one. 

“did you mean what you said on the fourth?” conrad asks, his eyes searching yours. “do you regret that night?”

“i’m guessing you mean the us-having-sex part?” you reply, a gentle smirk on your face. 

conrad nods. he’s blinking faster than usual, and you can tell he’s anxious to hear your answer.

“if it ruined things between us, then i would,” you admit. you realize then that your hand is still on his cheek; you remove it, but keep the other intertwined with his. “tell me it didn’t ruin things between us, and maybe i’ll change my mind. i mean, do you regret it?”

conrad smiles at you, his shoulders relaxing. “no. that’s one thing i don’t think i’ll ever regret. that’s another thing you were right about — that night meant something to me. it meant everything.”

your heart skips a beat at the way he looks at you, tenderly, waiting for you to say something.

"yeah, me too. or, me neither. i mean, i’m sorry -” now, it’s your turn to stumble over your words, nerves getting the better of you - you take a deep breath to calm yourself. “i’m sorry for not being here; i’m sorry for hurting you; and i’m sorry for making you feel like i didn’t care, because that’s further from the truth.”

“i appreciate it,” conrad replies sincerely. “but i think we’ve apologized to each other enough for one night.”

you laugh. “yeah, i guess you’re right about that one. have any alternatives, fisher?”

conrad reaches up to caress your cheek, a gentle gesture that contrasts the mischievous smirk on his face. his eyes fall to your lips, then back to yours. “i can think of a few —”

you kiss him before he finishes his sentence.

maybe you'd never shared an underwater kiss, but kissing conrad feels as dynamic and unpredictable as the ocean. 

when you kissed last summer, it was like a wave breaking onto the shore: the built up anticipation finally coming to fruition. 

earlier this summer, at nicole’s party, kissing him felt dangerous, like swimming out into the turbulent water and realizing you’re in too deep. 

right now, his lips on yours feel like floating in water on a warm summer day. 

conrad slips his hand underneath your jacket, and you shiver when he touches your bare skin, right under the band of your bikini top where your tattoo is. you shift ever so slightly and suddenly you're tangled in his lap, feeling him strong and sturdy beneath you. one of your hands is on his thigh, while the other tangles into his hair. you tug the strands just the way you remember him liking it; he groans and kisses you with more intensity, a calm sea gradually becoming more rough.

once you’ve run out of air, you pull apart ever-so-slightly, appreciating his swollen lips, pink cheeks, and tousled hair in the early morning sunlight. you could do this for hours — drowning in him — and you're about to do it again, too, before you’re shocked back into reality.

“i knew it!” you hear your sister yell in the distance. she then adds something about your brother owing her ten dollars. you make a mental note to get them back later for betting on your love life. 

conrad laughs against your lips, then pulls away. you get up and offer him your hand, which he accepts with a smile. 

“you might wanna…” you gesture towards his messy hair, and he blushes even more despite how much he enjoyed it earlier. 

“right.” he clears his throat, runs a hand through his hair to tame it. 

“i’m gonna go get started on breakfast,” you say before walking a few steps closer to the campsite. 

you turn back around to conrad, who was frozen in place, looking at you carefully. his posture is stiffer than before, and it takes you a second to realize why: he’d been here before. he’d watched you leave one too many times.

not this time, though. this time, you reach out your hand — a peace offering, a promise. 

summer will end soon, and maybe you aren’t quite sure what the future holds once it does.

“so, are you coming with me or not?” 

but you do know this: when you get back to the beach house, you’ll go surfing with the fisher boys, watch movies and eat sour candy with belly, play video games with steven and jere. you’ll sneak out to meet conrad, then watch the sunrise together. the five of you will have bonfires on the beach, maybe even inviting your siblings and their friends, and roast marshmallows. susannah will host another pool party and you’ll feel conrad’s arm wrapped around your waist; he’ll kiss your cheek, sitting on the edge of the pool, and you'll jump in the water, bringing him under with you, before kissing him back. 

you'll spend one particular night in conrad's bedroom, hands and lips all over each other, trying to keep quiet, and when you search his drawers for a condom, you'll find the same necklace that you, jeremiah, steven, and belly were gifted. it holds faded clay beads painted with various symbols - a turquoise trident, a crashing wave, a rainbow, a starfish. you'll think back to how the tradition started at belly's percy jackson themed birthday, when you and conrad were 11, and susannah would give one to each of you at the end of each summer. there will be a sharp pain in your heart when you notice that some beads are missing, the years don't add up, but you'll realize, prompted by conrad's deep voice calling you back to bed, that you might be able to make up for lost time.

you'll soak up as much sunshine as you can. you’ll squeeze out every ounce of summer, and then some. you'll dust off old traditions, and make some new ones, too. you'll fill those necklaces with more clay beads.

and you'll always - always - come back home.

#i had to include percy jackson references im not sorry #please enjoy :)) #the summer i turned pretty fic #conrad fisher x reader #tsitp conrad #conrad fisher fanfic #conrad fisher #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher x fem!reader #tsitp fanfic #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty #saf writes

[bartxnhood]

accident prone | d.d

daryl dixon x reader

summary: you’re very clumsy, but no worries. daryl is there for you.

warnings: broken ankle is all.

a/n: hi hi !! this one is just a small blurb. this was also inspired by beth spraining her ankle and daryl coming to the rescue ! i hope y’all enjoy !!!

request open

not proofread

Copyright © 2023 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

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“can we hold up for a second?” your grip around daryl waist loosens and you bend down to rub your ankle. “ya okay?” you nodded, “i just need to sit down for a minute.” daryl looked ahead, spotting a small cabin. he moved his crossbow to the front of his chest before bending down. “hop on” you stood up, “what?” “get on, premium ride right here” you laughed softly, before hoisting yourself on his back.

“you’re a lot heavier than you look” he added, heading towards the cabin. “shut up, cowboy” you added the nickname you had given him, which he says he hates but you’d disagree. “i will drop you” he huffed, holding onto you tightly. “mhm sure”

once inside, he sat you next to the fireplace and found just enough broken wood pieces and paper to start a small figure to keep the two of you warm for the night. “‘m sorry” you spoke up, picking at your fingernails. “what?” “for putting us behind, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to drag you down.” daryl finished messing with the fire, “don’t” he stood above you. you looked up at him, feeling the guilt weigh on your shoulders. you didn't want to put your friend in danger because you're clumsy.

“shit happens, don’t worry” he assured, looking around a bit as he took a few steps back. “i’ll go search a bit. stay here”

“yeah like there’s anywhere for me to go, dixon!” you quietly hollers as he walked away. “stay there!” he retorted.

so, you sat there staring at the fire while he was gone. but, the throbbing of your ankle only progressed. "shit" you whispered, you looked down at your ankle seeing the swelling and bruising begin to form. from what you thought was a simple sprain now looks like it could be broken. walking on it is out of the picture, you groaned trying your best to insure the pain.

“y’allright?” daryl enter the room, taking a seat next to the fireplace, across from you. he saw your expression and looked down at your ankle.

"hurtin?" he asked, and you nodded. "i think it’s broken. i don’t like how swollen it is. " you huffed, eyes meeting with the redneck. he hummed, setting down whatever he has found in the other rooms and grabbed his bag, turning his back to you and rummaging around for something. "daryl?" you croaked. "holon" he grunted. within a few seconds, he pulled what looked to be a bandage. it wasn't in the best condition but you were hurt and this might help until the both of you get back home.

daryl slowly rose from his position stopped in front of your ankle and slowly began wrapping it. he tried his best to be gentle with you, especially seeing how badly you had hurt yourself. "ow" you groaned, biting down on your lip to prevent tears. " i know it hurts. jus breathe." he grunted, not that he was mad at you or anything. he just can’t stand seeing you in that much pain, especially when he could’ve prevented it.

“since when did you start carrying first aid?” you asked, watching him gently wrap your ankle the best he could. “i only do when you come with me. yer very accident prone” you chuckled, “you’re the sweetest thing, daryl dixon” he looked up at you, rolling his eyes. “whatever.”

he finished up wrapping your ankle, then pulled down your pant leg and put his bag under your foot to keep it elevated.

“get that checked when we get back” he said, leaning against the wooden wall next to you. “yes, sir” you hummed, and rested your head on his shoulder. “thank you for saving me again” “my knight in shining armor” you added, followed by a laugh. “stop” he grumbles, while crossing his arms and closing his eyes.

“you love it, dixon”

“mm, just sleep”

#daryl x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon fan fiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl x you #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl dixion imagine #daryl imagines #daryl fanfiction #twd fanfic

[writefightandflightclub]

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Two (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but can you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running? 

Series genre: a LOT of tasty angst, tasty smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+ / NSFW / MDNI. Minors or ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. Posting schedule and series masterlist are here. 

Author’s note: Thank you SO much for the response to Chapter One! And if you're still with it, I hope you enjoy chapter 2! It has been a LOOONNNNGGG time coming! 😆 This one is slightly shorter, with a bit of exposition to bridge between the OG instalment and the meat of our newly embarked upon continuation! The next chapters are where things really kick-off, but I do hope you enjoy this stoking of some tension, and, of course, finally seeing Santiago again - for the first time since the jarring conclusion to chapter one!!!!!! 

Word count: 4.8k for this part 

“It’s okay,” Frankie rumbles, looking at you levelly. “You can ask me about him.” 

You sigh, squirming in place - on the rear porch steps of your sister’s home - as your game is finally unmasked. Your pretense dashed. 

The hubbub of the lazy, Sunday BBQ is nothing but background to you now as Frankie zones in on your true wants, rendering you as an observer - rather than a participant - in the annual gathering you usually draw an abundance of joy from. 

Not so today, despite your best efforts at going through the motions. At pretending like everything is fine. 

Up to now, chatting idly with your bud in this safe little bubble, you’ve cycled through a gazillion conversation starters; each to emphasise just how interested you are in Frankie, and Whatever He Has Going On. Clearly though, you have failed to convince. Your friend simply knows you too well. Knows your weaknesses. 

Your one true weakness. Santiago “Pope” Garcia. 

You look at kind-eyed Frankie apologetically from beneath your lashes, sorry that your flimsy chat has failed to mask your disinterest in... um, whatever it was he was saying. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, Cat.” Then, so help you, you ask the question you’ve actually been burning to ask all day. “How’s he doing, Frankie? Really?” 

Confirming the shift in tone, Frankie sets his plate of food aside and nestles his bottle of beer on the corner of the lowest porch step. Now you’re having a conversation. The pilot tents his fingers together in his lap, giving your question the full merit it deserves. “Pope?” 

Who else? 

“He’s… fine,” Frankie nods, studying your face as he says the words. Noticing -no doubt- the way you chew on your lip as your gaze wanders, fixing on the man in question. As you watch him mingle comfortably, effortlessly, amongst the throng of people on the lawn. Making connections, as per usual. 

Your stomach drops. An unease jostles in the pit of you. The niggle of regret. 

You shouldn’t have invited the guys here today. Shouldn’t have agreed to have them be present at your family gathering. Shouldn’t have agreed to follow-up it up with a squad weekend at the beach house - no matter that it’s tradition. But, then again, who were you to disrupt the usual way of things? And, more so, who were you to pretend that you didn’t want to see him again? After all this time? 

In truth, you had wanted nothing else but to see him again. That is, until you had laid eyes on him, and then, very quickly, you had pivoted. Wanted nothing more than to keep your distance. 

Why? 

Because by all accounts it’s true. 

Santiago is fine. 

Santiago certainly looks fine. He looks fine in all senses of the fucking word. He looks as though he’s thriving, in fact. 

Your face falls at the implication: that he’s thriving without you. 

With effort, you hum, schooling your expression into something neutral; however, Frankie’s already on to you. “Is that what you wanted to hear, chiquita?”

You turn your head towards your friend and exhale a small, pitiful laugh. Pondering Frankie’s question, you set your own plate and beer down too – a signal that shit’s getting real. 

Is it? 

Is that what you wanted to hear? 

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I wanted to hear, Cat.” With a dejected sigh, you lean your head on Frankie’s shoulder, hooking your arm into the crook of his elbow. “Does that make me cruel? If I don’t wanna hear that he’s happy?” 

Your buddy doesn’t answer rightaway, but he does rest a reassuring hand on your thigh in response, his plush bottom-lip protruding as he pouts – apparently mulling over whether or not to throw you a bone. “Okay. Look,” he begins  - always a soft-touch for you - and you instantly perk-up just a little. “He had a rough spell when you left and-” Frankie huffs out air, shaking his head as though he might have gone too far in divulging already “-fuck, actually, you don’t wanna know.” 

You head snaps up from Frankie’s shoulder as it begins to shake with mirth, your curiosity piqued. 

“What?” you probe, as Frankie turns his head to look at you, a smile cracking his sharp features. Apparently, Frankie has a small part of him which is cruel too. “We stumbled upon his heartbreak playlist. And it was not pretty.” 

“Come on now,” you protest, a little too defensively, your mouth suddenly dry.  “I hardly broke the fucker’s heart.” 

Frankie pumps his eyebrows. Shrugs his shoulders. Then, his bark-brown eyes mist over, just a little. “More likely than you think, chiquita.” 

With that, your eyes flick right back to Santiago’s figure on the other side of the yard, as if trying to reconcile Frankie’s assertion with the reality you see before you. After all, Santiago “Pope” Garcia looks fine. In all senses of the word. 

Right this second, for example, he’s engaged in a highly tactical water fight with your kid nephews. About to enter the killbox any moment, you wager, given that 5 and 7-year-olds don’t seem bound by those pesky rules of engagement. His cargo shorts are – naturally - far too tight, and he’s wearing his crisp blue shirt as though he forgot what buttons did half-way through getting dressed, the fabric split in a deep, plunging “V” across his tan chest. 

Despite all that, however, the thing which captures your attention most, is the beaming, wide-open grin he has painted on his face. 

He looks... 

...Happy.  

Genuinely happy. The bastard. 

This is the first time he’s seen you since he stormed out of your apartment all those months ago. The first chance he’s had to make things right - and he hasn’t spoken a word to you all day. Despite being in your family’s yard. Eating your sister’s food. Playing with your goddamn nephews. You broke his heart, apparently. So Frankie tells you. And yet this fucker dares to looks happy. 

So… Is that what you wanted? 

For him to be happy? 

Without you? 

Or… is a small part of you cruel? 

You’re not sure about the answer to that question, but you do know that your eyes turn mildly devilish as they flick back towards your buddy, your voice hushed and downright conspiratorial. All of a sudden, you’re not concerned with being the bigger person. 

You decide you’ll willingly catch that bone Frankie is throwing. “Tell me more about this playlist, Francisco.” 

You need this, you justify internally. You need something. Some sign that Santiago is hurting too. 

You’ve needed this for months, in fact; but, goddamn - you especially need this before you and the squad spends a whole weekend together up at the beach house. 

You need it badly.

Why? 

Because you’re not fine. 

Not fine at all. 

Not fine without him. 

This is your family's yard, and it’s your family’s  party, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him since he stormed out of your apartment all those months ago… and you’re emphatically not happy about it. Have found that, despite what you had hoped for, your reunion hasn’t solved a damn thing. Hasn’t eased the knot in your chest. Hasn’t allowed you to feel any sense of resolution.

“Fuck.” Your eyes brim over with the realisation, wet and glassy, and a tight lump balls in your throat. 

“Come on,” Frankie mutters - softly but urgently - as your eyes begin to swim with emotion. He nods up towards the interior of the house, and you are endlessly grateful when, with minimal spectacle, your buddy bundles you inside, his arm slung casually around your shoulder for comfort. 

You’re not the retreating type. At all. You have always been comfortable running headlong into things that scare you. Even so, it is a marked relief when you do slink inside. A relief that you were able to save face. Keep your pain hidden. But, most of all, it is a relief that you no longer need to suffer Santiago’s abject joy. 

It is a relief in the same way it is to retreat from the blazing sun, and you immediately find sanctuary in the cool, shaded interior of the house. 

Still, given the tumult of emotions inspired by his general proximity today, you are less and less sure that you can handle this trip. 

The only thing pushing you to go through with it, in fact, is the knowledge that there’s one thing harder than being close to Santiago… and that’s being apart from him. 

Perhaps Frankie’s wrong. Perhaps you didn’t break Santiago’s heart when you left. But, one thing’s for sure. Leaving him had certainly broken yours.

Truth be told, even after all this time, you’ve barely begun to put yourself back together. 

You’re in pieces; which - to be fair - is always how Santiago liked to see you, isn’t it? 

A friend. A soldier. A lover.  

That’s the only way you can stand to view him now. In mere fragments. In the shrapnel of stolen glances; because trying to see him all at once? That’s like trying to stare directly at the sun. 

He is too bright for you and it burns. Even with all this distance. 

***

You’re surrounded by laughter and chatter, yet you feel an unease. An unrest in the pit of you. 

Will’s ballcap is tugged down over your eyes under the guise of staying warm - a flimsy excuse, considering the raging fire pit in the centre of you all, acting as the warm sun to your orbits of beer, passed amiably around from hand to hand via the cooler at Will’s side. 

Naturally, the conversation has veered sharply towards the crude - it reliably does when you are and the boys are all together. 

“For real, Pope. Since we’re, uh, sharing,” Tom interjects, already looking far too pleased with himself. “Do you ever play up the knee thing to… encourage women to go on top?” Tom’s question earns shocked titters from Will and Frankie and, despite yourself, a softly exhaled laugh from you. 

“Why are you so obsessed with me?” Santiago asks Tom with an assured grin, and, upon being subject to the group’s attention, he leans forward in his camp chair. He drains the dregs of his beer and tosses the emptied bottle into the gathering pile in the sand, the label already peeled off by his nimble fingers.

Tom presses him for an answer, and you see Santiago’s pearly flash of teeth glinting in the firelight. “Play it up, buddy?” Santiago emits a deep, throaty chuckle which bobs in his corded neck. The sound is echoed by the other boys too, the threshold for laughter pleasantly lowered by the alcohol. 

Their movements are growing increasingly pack-like - a little less measured and a little more instinctual. Less individual and more unified. Moving as a team even as they sit still, with their spread legs and dropped shoulders and dipped chins. Alert eyes glinting in the dark with each lick of flame. Their energy would intimidate you, you think, if you didn’t know them. If you didn’t feel safer here than anywhere else in the world.

Still wearing that grin, Santiago scoops his hand over his stubble, his finger and thumb tracing around his mouth. “It’s practically a pick-up strategy.” His voice is warm sand and it scrapes you. Leaves a mark. 

Frankie titters off to Santiago’s side - a chaotic, beer-addled laugh. To his other side, Will grins too, his laughter striking a robust and deep note, even whilst shaking his head as though he’s somehow above it all. Together, their sounds form a cacophony you can feel deep in your chest - like the rumble of bass from a speaker, or the subdued roar of the ocean. 

If they are a pack, you - for once - are at odds. You feel it now more than ever, and it jars you. You are hyper-conscious that no display of mirth falls from you; and, in fact, the corners of your mouth turn down. 

Instead, you dwell on this roar - this rumble and hum under your skin. If you feel like the tide, like you are being swept up, Santiago is your shore. Everything about him draws you in, and you feel you could wash him away with the force of your need for him. 

Regardless of that, you continue to do precisely what you’ve been doing all night. You try to bury everything. To subdue your feelings. To calm this frenzy deep in the pit of you. In this moment, thinking about Santiago pursuing people other than you - listening to the damn stories - you take that urge quite literally, digging your bare toes deeply and intently into the sand as though you could disappear wholly into it. 

But; even that reminds you. 

Everything reminds you. 

Santiago. 

You’ve thought of nothing else all night. 

How could you? 

And, you feel the lack of him. 

The roughness of the sand against your smooth skin is a poor substitute for the rasp of his stubble. For the grit of his voice against your throat. The warmth of the curling, licking flame is a poor substitute for his body heat. His curling tongue. His fingers. The way you bury your feelings has nothing on how he buried himself in you. 

You fall into memories, tacky and hot, tumbling, and yet Will’s voice rips you abruptly back to the present. 

“How in the hell do you spin that one, man?” he asks Santiago with a genuine curiosity, his ice blue eyes dancing with amusement.  

Santiago risks a sheepish glance at you then, as though sensitive that his prowess with women might offend you in some way; but your eyes simply glance off of his like a flung spark from the fire pit, desperate to turn towards the dark and rid yourself of any heat which he may ignite. Desperate not to linger on the way the shadows and the light pool across the harsh planes of his face. The way his dark eyes are flickering and alive, and entirely capable of burning. 

And so, Santiago continues, relishing his moment. “Come on. It’s easy,” he breezes. He clears his throat, fully readying to inhabit his role. He shuffles in his chair and changes his demeanour, his body language, his voice. Shifting and contorting himself until he is layered with seduction. His frame even grows bigger, bolder, his legs spread. Chin raised and eyes hooded with a slow, sultry blink of those long lashes. 

Even this performance of heat hurts you; burns. Burns brightly enough that you have to look away from him before your skin is singed by it. “Hermosa,” he rasps, voice pleasantly scuffed by beer and smoke, the sound so rough and gritty you swear you can feel it scrape your skin. Your core clenches around the full, deep, dark tones of him, as though they alone could fill you.

The fire throws out careless sparks like cracked whips, and, like them, you cling to a dying heat. This vestige of the way he spoke to you in the dead, dark night at one time, your bodies all salt-slick skin. “You’re right,” he purrs, and you see that his body has shifted - angled towards Tom. 

You feel embarrassed. You feel alight, as though somehow, they could all find you out in this moment. Could sense the wet slick pooling between your legs. Smell it somehow. Like all of a sudden their eyes will converge on you and they will know - hear the flutter of your pulse in your throat. Sense the throb building in your core. Feel you barrelling from dull ache to desperation. 

“About what?” Tom asks, playing along as Santiago sneaks a hand up his thigh. 

Santiago’s smile is lopsided. Charming, but full of challenge. “Thinking that I’m a bad idea.” He’s hamming it up, for sure, but the syrup and grit in his voice is taking you right back there all the same. Right back to between those sheets, and a disobedient heat snakes down your back. 

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” 

“Well,” Santiago offers with faux regret, voice husky, and you can’t help but lift your eyes back to him. Can’t possibly look anywhere else now. Can’t help but observe the smirk twitching his appealing mouth and the way his thick brow arcs up. “‘Cause my knees are shot from years in the military, so I’m afraid you’ll have to get on top and ride me senseless.” 

God in heaven.  

Looking at him was a mistake, even like this. Even as he feigns seducing Tom, of all people. There’s just something about the rough edge layered into his voice right now. Something about the firelight painting his sharply-angled face with shadow. The flickers causing his smouldering eyes to glint with an echo of that formidable, latent heat. 

You feel this vestige of warmth in you ignite. Feel it begin to blaze and catch. You feel memories of him, his skin, his touch, amassing grain by grain. Ever so suddenly you are the shore now. Parched. A hot, baking expanse seeking its relieving tide. 

God, you want him. 

You feel your core shiver around the memory of him slipped into you, deep and dirty, teeth on your throat, and it’s almost too much to take. 

You need him, even though you’re still so damn angry with him. 

Or… no. No, that’s not it. Yes - you want him because of it. 

You need to fuck the residual anger from beneath your skin, for it has festered there for months now. Months, and you need it to move. Need it to give. Need it slaked and sated and gone. 

It’s not a healthy desire, you think, and you feel a little shame at that. You are grateful then - as Santiago effortlessly drags you back into the inescapable pit of him - that the boys’ laughter tears you abruptly from this impossible yearning. Gives you a lifeline. Reminds you where you are. How far you’ve come. 

You got out. And that meant leaving him behind too, didn’t it? 

“You’re such a fucking dog, man,” Will snickers. 

The chair over, Frankie’s shoulders are shaking with laughter too, his head tipped up to the sky and his eyes disappeared with it. You wish that you could laugh like that. That you could feel light, but instead you feel heavy and sick. 

“That works?” Tom asks incredulously, and you take another hasty swig of your beer, the froth hissing against your lips and a hoppy taste flooding your tongue. You briefly wish it was something stronger.

“Don’t go getting ideas, Tom,” Santiago says smugly, slapping his buddy emphatically on the thigh. “Works when I do it.” 

Oh, you bet it does. You bet it works. 

Tom throws Santiago a stink-eye then, before sitting slightly taller in his chair, his face contorting in a clear attempt to smoulder. “My knees are shot from years in the military...” Tom echoes, trying to inject a similar level of grit into his voice... and, the contrast? The failure? It is… an instant relief. 

Tom’s attempt is laughable, in fact. And so, when your favourite pilot’s dense, throaty chuckle sounds out to your side once more – this time, you can’t help but crack a smile too. Indeed, the laughter which spills out of you is a welcome vent, and so you reach for it wholeheartedly. 

There is an eruption of good-natured, teasing banter from the boys now - and Tom looks miffed that his attempt to tease Santiago has almost entirely backfired. Then, grasping for this welcome escape route a tad too eagerly, perhaps, you submit your own dig. “You might wanna run that script again. Give us a little less of that insurance infomercial vibe next time, buddy.” 

Frankie can barely breathe from laughing now, his hand coming to clutch his belly, and it’s pleasantly infectious. The atmosphere is safe and cocooning and familiar, and for the first time tonight you almost forget. You almost forget the thing that you haven’t been able to forget for months. That Santi isn’t touching you, and that, God; you need him to. 

But then, your relief is snatched from you all too suddenly. “Well sure,” Tom aims, his shot primed to land. “You would know how it goes, right? First hand? Did Pope use that line on you too, right before he and that guy from the bar practically double-dipped you?” 

The group fucking brace. 

You can feel it. 

It’s the exact same energy as when you’ve all grabbed for purchase in the helo or the humvee, right before a collision. The world seeming to flow in slow motion, your stomach being tossed up in the air and rolling as you lurch and sink.  

Most of the time, sure. You pride yourself for being able to take the boys’ banter on the chin. For having a thick skin. For being able to muster a scathing comeback, rolling off your tongue without a thought. 

But this? This has you beat for a second. This has a sinkhole opening up in your middle.

You meet Will’s eyes for a split second in desperation, but he looks at you helplessly, and you know. You know you need to say something. You know you need to, before they witness -before he witnesses- you falling apart. Before you let your silence reveal that you’re not over Santiago. That this hang isn’t ‘just like old times’. Not like ‘before’. That maybe, it can never be how it was again. 

Finally, something comes to you, and you grab for it; once again, a little too eagerly. “At least I got some, Tom. I doubt you could even seal the deal these days.” You push the words out and hope they sound light, even as you feel a tremor in your body. In your throat. Even as you feel Santiago’s eyes on you without looking. Can imagine them, dark and knowing, and worst of all… apologetic. Maybe even pitying. “Oh hey! Just like your ‘career’ in real estate!”

“Ohhhhh shiiittt,” is the prevailing sentiment from the group, hands flung up into the air as Tom realises he’s just been owned by your spectacular throwdown. 

Good, you think. Good. You’re glad the asshole’s getting his comeuppance but, even so, your petty victory does little to fill the hole in your chest, your heart still hammering and your fingers still trembling subtly against the cool, wet neck of your beer. 

To your surprise though, Tom doesn’t even bite back. Not this time, and that makes you feel even more annoyed, somehow. It makes you feel as though your anger is misdirected. As though Tom’s not the asshole here. As though he’s not the dude you’re fuming at after all. 

Still, your comment served its purpose well enough, you think, as steady, safe banter erupts again. You are pleased that you avoided the full impact of this collision, brakes slammed on as you still teeter on the cliff edge; but your heart feels bruised and rattled in the roll cage of your chest all the same. 

Mainly though, you are pleased that you are no longer the focus of everyone’s attention. However, your skin warms when you notice one man’s eyes remain on you, his gaze fixated and hooded and intense, and a shiver of heat dips down each notch of your spine. 

You look away. You tug Will’s cap a little further down over your eyes and you wait. You wait for the topic to shift so that you can excuse yourself without the cause being quite so obvious. You wait, until you can’t take the heat from this fire a second longer. Then, and only then, you make your excuses and dip out, retreating into the empty, quiet shell of the house. 

You pad into the kitchen, the cool interior immediately relieving against your hot skin, gooseflesh snaking down your arms and making your hairs stand on end. The dim light is certainly a respite from the searing brightness of the fire and the sting of the smoke in your eyes. But most of all, of course, it is relief from him. 

Santiago. 

It’s rough. Rougher than you expected. You simply can’t take this distance from him. You’d thought, before, that the miles between you - between here and Colombia - had been hard to reckon with. But this distance? The vanishingly small distance where he’s right here yet has never felt further out of your reach? That’s a thousand times harder. This petty distance – this rupture, this wound – hurts far more, because it feels far harder to heal. Far more festering than a clean break, and seeing him has already torn out every self-applied suture. 

You don’t like that things seem to have been irrevocably changed. You don’t like that your two bodies - which used to be so in sync - are now so awkward around one another. Purposefully aloof, rather than tactile. Remaining so separate, rather than together. 

It has been slowly amassing all day, the weight of this pain. Of this lack. And now, after feeling the absence of his touch so intensely - of that blessed togetherness- ironically, you finally need a moment alone. 

You cross the room and fold yourself over the kitchen counter, hinging at the hips. You rest your head in your hands, laying your forearms flat along the cool, marbled surface. 

For a brief moment, it is even a relief. You breathe deeply. Put him out of your head. But, after only one moment more you find yourself missing the pain. You’ve become fond of it, in a way. You haven’t been able to let go because, in truth, you’ve wanted to feel the continued burn of this loss - like a scar.

It is the only proof you have left that he touched you at all. 

That you came close to having something with him. Within touching distance of it. 

But now… 

You sigh deeply. You hate this torment. You hate not knowing how to be around him. The way the familiar is recast as unfamiliar. Your certainty now uncertainty. Your home now a hotel. 

You’ve spent the whole day so far keeping your distance. Talking only to the group, always some buffer of Tom or Will or Frankie in between you. Always leaving one seat between your bodies. Avoiding prolonged eye contact. Going out of your way to make sure the two of you were never left alone.

Being left alone with him is the last thing you want; and the first, of course. 

And, as if on cue, a low whistle sounds from behind you. You know the sound without looking, and your body stiffens. “An ocean view and now this?” Santiago jokes cautiously as he approaches behind you, clearly faced with a perfect view of your ass as you fold over the counter. “Pretty sweet deal. You should get Tom in on this real estate action. He might actually sell something.” 

Despite everything, all of it, you can’t help but laugh at that. You appreciate the dig at Tom a hell of a lot more than you should, actually. 

“Listen. Are you… alright?” Santiago asks next, much more softly. You hate the way his voice prickles the hairs on the back of your neck; but also, you don’t hate it at all, of course. 

You inhale and stand, pushing your torso up from the counter. You look up to the top of the cabinets, not blinking until the would-be tears have dried, and only then do you turn towards him. 

Santiago. 

Only then do you face your sun, praying that you will not be singed.  

All day, you have had a buffer in between the two of you. Clouds, to dim his brightness. But now, it is just you and him, alone in the kitchen of the beach house. 

This bland domesticity sure is a far cry from the field, yes. From your original shared domain. But, it also serves as an all too painful reminder of the last time you saw him. Of the last time his lips moved against yours. Of the last time, in that kitchen, that he’d had you. Taken you, bunched up naked against the fridge as he filled your slick heat with his fingers. As he kissed you and tongued you and claimed you back, as if he ever intended to keep you. 

It is a reminder of the time he had told you he loved you, and with finality, you had both realised that it still might not be enough.

You turn towards him, finally, and you brace. 

Brace like you’re about to collide. 

Like there will be an impact when your eyes meet.

Your brace like you’re expecting hot tempers, hot feelings, hot words. Wounds splitting and salt being rubbed in. 

Still, that’s not at all what you get. 

Instead, Santiago’s eyes are as wet as your own. All of his boldness and bluster is gone, and he’s standing on the very perimeter of the room as though he is the one who dares to venture no further. As though you might burn him if he gets too close. 

“I missed you,” he rasps, and despite the softness and the sincerity of the words, they feel like a rough struck match against your skin. 

You try desperately. Try desperately to fling this offered spark away before it catches, but it is futile. 

He missed you, and his admission already has you blazing for him. 

He’s standing mere feet from you.

And, despite everything, all you can think about is closing this oh so petty distance. 

#santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac #ride or die series #santiago pope garcia

[asuyaka]

Omg I loved ur dazai x male reader whose rich, could I request something similar but it's Ranp instead? Please ignore this if your requests aren't open or smth 😊😅

★ - 's okay !! 'm reqs are open s' you can req as much as you want!! :3

☆ - Edogawa Ranpo x GN! Reader — can be read as Male reader!!

You were busy working, making small talk with Atsushi from time to time if you were confused about something or you got tired of looking at a white screen and black letters for hours on end.

In truth, you were waiting for the small, very tiny present you got Ranpo for his birthday to arrive. You already did everything in the morning, wake him up with breakfast in bed— pancakes with chocolate chips and a shit ton of syrup— buy him every single thing he wanted at a candy store and take him on a small date to get mochi from a hand-made small business you enjoyed going to as a kid.

Ranpo is busy doing what he always does. Lazying around and eating candy. Though, Kunikida doesn't bother him because Ranpo has 'birthday privileges', whatever that means.

You glance at the time. It should've arrived an hour ago, but you didn't get a notification. Sighing dejectedly, you save the file you were working on and grab your coat.

"Heyyy! Are you going somewhere?" Ranpo yells from his seat. If the overflowing trash can full of snack wrappers says anything, it's that he's run out of food. Already.

"You only think of me as snack supply, don't you?" You roll your eyes in feigning annoyance, letting your boyfriend koala hug your back as you have goodbye to the remaining ADA members.

"Where are we going?" Ranpo asks, adjusting his position so his cheek is pressing against yours, his arms stretched out so his elbows are pressed against your shoulder.

You wave goodbye to Naomi, the soft breeze hitting your skin relaxes you in a way. "You followed me without knowing where I was going?"

Ranpo huffs. "Yeah! I'm not gonna spend my time in that boring office! The director is busy today so I can't annoy him."

Your phone buzzes and you look down at the notification. It's Atsushi, with a picture of a stuffed animal almost twice his size. You groan. Of course it arrived when you left— of course it did.

"Somethin' wrong?" Ranpo asks as he shifts up, pulling your body along with him.

"No, everything is great." You mutter as you stuff your phone back in your pocket.

"Don't you use super deduction on me either." You add, causing Ranpo to groan. "I wanna know what made you so mad! C'monnnn!!! Please?"

"No, Ranpo. It'll ruin it." You walk into the local convenience store and grab a trolley. Sure, you get weird stares but you're used to that. It isn't the regular convenience store you go to, the people who work there are used to you and Ranpo's antics but these people aren't. You two are less than bothered as Ranpo gets three of every snack in the entire store.

The total is pricey, 11,373 yen but it barely makes a dent in your bank account.

Ranpo peppers your cheek with kisses, occasionally asking you if you wanted some to eat. You politely declined. It was his birthday after all, and you wanted him to have anything he wanted.

He always said it was perks of having a rich partner, but you didn't mind. You know he loved you for you, not just your money.

Walking back to the ADA with bags upon bags of snacks in your hands, you hope the snacks are enough to keep Ranpo busy. With a soft smile, you walk past Naomi, ride the elevator up to the offices, and open the door.

"I don't wanna—" Ranpo stops himself when he sees the massive, fucking gigantic stuffed bear that replaces his chair. He jumps off your back, stuffing the last Oreo in his mouth as he examines it.

It's twice his size with a note on the side of it.

Dazai, who's beside you, whines dramatically about when he's going to get a partner who buys weird sappy shit like what you do for Ranpo.

"I love you sososososo much!!" Ranpo runs up and hugs you causing you to stumble a bit. He peppers your cheek with kisses and goes on and on about how he's going to tell his dad—he means the director, he always does when he mentions his father— and how he's going to marry you.

"Ewww, I hate happy couples." Dazai gags and Kunikida makes a fuss about you using Ranpo's birthday privilages to escape work.

You press a kiss on Ranpo's lips, putting his snacks by his stuffed toy with a warm smile.

You truly do love him, great infamous detective or not.

#ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 — ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴ' ᴍᴀɴɢᴀ #bsd x gn reader #bsd x male reader #edogawa ranpo #ranpo x reader #ranpo x gn reader #ranpo x you #ranpo x male reader #bsd fluff #gn reader #x gn reader #x male reader #male reader #005 #⋆｡𖦹 — ​🇼​​🇦​​🇹​​🇨​​🇭​​🇮​​🇳​❜ ​🇲​​🇴​​🇻​​🇮​​🇪​​🇸​ #★: forgotten-blues ! #bsd #bungou stray dogs

[cutesyscreenname]

A Cowboy Like Me : Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Series summary:

I've had some tricks up my sleeve

Takes one to know one

You're a cowboy like me

Javier Peña is a playboy, sleeping his way across Bogotá, never settling down. And he's used to being the only one. What happens when he meets his match? A friendly challenge between friends couldn't hurt, could it? Unless that friend is you...

Chapter Summary:

Javi is your friend, your coworker, your neighbor and a royal pain in your ass. He always thinks he has the upper hand but he doesn't know you have a little secret.

Pairing: Javi Peña x f reader

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: language, allusions to sex, drinking alcohol/being drunk, not much really

Notes: This is my first fic, I actually started another one but this Javi idea snuck into my head and we'll here we are. I just kept thinking, what if Javi was down bad for a fem reader who is as much of a slut as he is? A little turning of the tables? And what happens when they finally collide 👀 I don't have a concrete plan for how things end up where they're going so bear with me. I hope you enjoy it!

Playlist:

Rain assaulted the panes of your bedroom window seemingly from nowhere, a blitz attack to break through the standoff between humidity and air pressure. If it wasn’t so frenzied it would feel like a release.

You couldn’t take your usual leisurely stroll to the office this morning, considering the current weather. You silently thank the DEA’s preference for efficiency and budgeting as your corner apartment was sandwiched between those of your fellow agents, Murphy across the hall and Peña to your right.

Your appreciative mood sours when you get no answer from Steve Murphy’s door, realizing he likely had left already to afford his wife the same respite you were seeking from the rain and drive her to work at the clinic. You knew Peña would still be home, the catch was you didn’t know if his (very noisy) overnight guest would still be lingering this morning. Maybe it was just the expected awkwardness of meeting a coworker’s hook up or perhaps it was having to stifle the urge to look at them with pity when they practically purred to him “call me, Javi baby” as they carried their heels down the apartment staircase; either way you didn’t exactly enjoy meeting his conquests.

Preparing for whatever scene lurked behind his door that it was still too early in the morning to witness, you rapped three times on the wood beneath the peep hole. The tension in your shoulders subsided when, as soon as your hand pulled away, there he was in the threshold fully dressed and seeming to be on his way as well.

“Buenas, chiquita. Looking for a ride?” his small smirk and the spark in his eye letting you know he was expecting you.

“I don’t know, Peña, did you tire yourself out giving someone else a ride last night? Your friend sounded so grateful."

"Oh I’ve got plenty of energy, muñeca. You looking for a different kind of ride?” He stepped what would appear, to the layman, uncomfortably close to you but you don’t waver. It’s all a part of the game.

“En tus sueños, Javi,” you almost whisper before turning on your heel and bolting down the stairs as you yell behind you. “Last one to the car buys coffee!”

“Mocosa…” he mutters to himself, following behind you. He slides two fingers into the pocket of his button down shirt to find nothing there. You lifted his smokes before bolting to the car.

He sighs and shakes his head when he slides into the driver seat of his car that you’ve already let yourself into, both of you drenched just from the sprint to the vehicle. You think you catch his eyes gliding over your soaked blouse but quickly decide it’s more likely a glare of annoyance at your early morning antics. Javier didn't see you that way.

“You sure about that energy, Peña? Better hit the coffee shop post haste.” You tip the pack of smokes toward him in an offer, as though it’s yours, a lit cigarette already dangling lazily from your lips, a small smile tugging at one corner of your mouth.

Javi plucks the whole pack from your fingers and lets out a low chuckle, lighting one for himself before slipping them back into his shirt pocket.

“Fine, pendeja. The first round tonight is on you, though.”

And this is the way it was between you, a never ending game of wit and sarcasm, playing chicken and skirting the edges of propriety. Always in jest, always reigned in long before invisible lines were crossed, made easier by Steve playing mother hen to the two of you.

Always just a stupid game.

Sliding into the curved booth that evening at your favorite watering hole, you finally took what felt l like the first full breath of the day since stepping into the agency this morning. The moment your toe touched the speckled tile you and Javier’s easy expressions turned to grimaces at the mountains of paper work on each of your desks.

“Settle in, kids,” Steve grumbled from behind his own paper piles, “we’re gonna be here a while. I made coffee.” Endless stacks of red tape redundancies and dead end phone tips had your neck sore, eyes strained, and a dull ache settling between your temples.

You take a deep, cleansing breath as the time worn cushion gives way to your form and the dim lighting offers reprieve to your tired eyes. This is just what you needed after today.

“First round on you, kid, don’t forget.” Javi chides as he observes you sinking into the booth, Steve taking a seat next to you.

“Tell you what, Peña. I’m not moving for at least 20 minutes so why don’t you be a lamb and go grab those for us?” you say. It’s a statement, not a request and he rolls his eyes as you slide a few crumpled bills to him at the end of the table. “Quick like a bunny, sweetheart, or I won’t tip ya.”

Steve does nothing to hold back his laughter at his partner’s expense and Javi sends the both of you a death glare before snatching the cash and walking away to the bar.

“You sure know how to ruffle his feathers, man.” Murphy shakes his head lightly and chuckles, lighting a cigarette.

“Ah it’s too easy, he’s such a delicate flower.” Your eyes drift shut as you take another deep breath, enjoying the soft upholstery beneath you and inhaling the pleasant mix of liquor, leather, and smoke that permeates the small bar.

“Maybe more than you know.” Steve mutters quietly. You couldn't even be sure you were meant to hear it until you crack an eye open and see him looking at you with an expression that’s almost…solemn.

You open your mouth to ask what the hell he means by that but the words die on your tongue as Javi reappears, three whiskeys in hand and confusion painted across his strong features.

“Damn, Murphy, I leave for two minutes and she hurt your feelings already?” he throws a conspiratorial wink at you and slides into the booth on your other side.

The blonde agent’s face softens and he recovers from the moment so quickly you think you must have imagined it.

“Ah you know I’m sensitive, Javi. And this one’s just so damn feisty.”

“Yeah she is.” Javi pinches your cheek and you swat him away.

“Hey man I was napping!”

“Ah, ah, ah, cariño, I need my wing man awake.”

“Oh so I’m just dead weight?” Steve gasps, feigning offense.

“Second string, Murphy. I’m the MVP.” You jest, taking a generous sip of the amber liquid in your glass.

“Well now you’ve both hurt my feelings.” He pouts while you and Javi snicker.

The truth was, Javi didn’t need a wing man. Women seemed to clamor for a chance to fall into his bed; a never ending parade of Bogotá’s finest ladies rotating in and out of his apartment, keeping you awake with their…appreciation. It annoyed you endlessly, your precious sleep stolen as you lie awake thinking there’s no way he’s THAT good.

This is why you never brought your own conquests home. Why deal with the intrusion of your space, the prying eyes of your nosy partners, and the inevitable task of shooing them off? No reason to when you could simply whisper ‘lets go back to yours’ and get a night away from Javi’s theatrics before sneaking off to work early and slipping into the fresh shirt from your desk before Thing 1 and Thing 2 arrive to the office.

While Javi’s reputation was public knowledge, your escapades remained confidential and you preferred it that way. It kept things easy between you and the two men that had become your closest friends, maintained the dynamic that worked so damn well. Not to mention, you didn’t need it to be broadcast around an agency of frustrated men that you were no stranger to a one night stand.

You don’t consider yourself a centerfold by any means, but you know you must have a certain allure from the way that you never had to go home alone if you so chose. No need to give cause for the DEA bachelor’s club to start making pit stops at your desk to ask the time and look for files that don't exist.

You liked your little secret night life anyway, always one to keep your cards close to your chest, but after a couple more whiskeys (and a shot of tequila somewhere in between) your lips become looser.

“You know the more you two drink the more you start soundin’ like me.” Steve teases from his spot in the booth. As the alcohol warmed your cheeks and loosened your vocal chords, you and Javi both let your Texas drawls slide thickly over your words like honey from a road side stand.

“Hey now-“ Javi starts, but you cut him off.

A little more sauced than your cohort, and somehow even spunkier than you usually are, you point your finger at Steve with purpose. “Look it here, pal, we don’t sound nothin’ alike. Texas is a whooole different ball game. Did Tennessee used to be it's own country? Hmm? I didn’t think so.” You said with determination and a slight slur, ending an argument you were having with no one.

“I reckon she’s right.” The brunette man slung his arm around your shoulders in solidarity. Steve raised his eyebrows and smirked at the spectacle of drunken Texas pride before him, entertained by his friends that were much more inebriated than he was.

“Should we tell him?” Javi whispers to you loud enough for anyone to hear.

“Well bless his little heart, he don’t know?” You don’t know either, but you can see that it’s a part of the bit so you’re going to play along anyway.

Javi takes a dramatic breath before looking at the other man solemnly, “I didn’t wanna offend you, bud, but…”

He steals a glance at you and throws another wink your way, “turns out everything’s bigger in Texas.” Javi waggles his brows suggestively and you dissolve into a fit of giggles together.

“That’s what they say, isn’t it?” Steve leans back in his seat and sips the beer he’d switched to earlier in the night.

“Oh it’s what they ALL say, I hear ‘em every time I try to sleep at my place.” Both of the men next to you shoot you a surprised look, wondering what would come out of your mouth next.

“That can’t be true, I don’t have a guest every night,” Javier offers, “gotta sleep occasionally.” He's quipping back, playing the game as usual, but you’re just getting started.

“Well, seems like. I guess your nights off are just the ones when I’m not home, Casanova.” You tease, casually taking another pull of your drink that was mostly melted ice now.

“Not home?” Steve looks at you with his head cocked. “What’re you doin', playing secret agent without us? Girl’s out to catch Escobar all on her lonesome.”

“Nah, nah, naaaah. I’m doin’- like Javi does,” you stumble over your words, “entertaining my companions. He’s a cowboy. Like me.”

You miss the way that Javi’s jaw nearly hits the floor, unable to control his expression with the liquor coursing in his veins. Steve doesn’t, though.

“Well I’ll be damned, chica, who woulda thought it.” Steve laughs, still keeping a steady eye on his partner’s reactions.

Javier didn't expect you to be celibate, and maybe it was bit archaic to assume, but he never imagined you to get around like he did. And he really didn’t want to. Pushing the imagery from his mind, Javi set aside his shock and the little antagonistic twinkle forming in his eye has Steve standing up to try and wrangle you both home before something stupid falls out of his friend’s mouth. But it’s too late.

Neither of you are moving to follow him and before Steve can start his rounds of ‘its getting late’ and ‘let’s call it a night’ Javi pipes up.

“I don’t fuckin believe you, cariño.” He takes a thoughtful drag from the cigarette between his plush lips before tapping it on the edge of the ashtray. After a brief but pregnant pause he continues. “In fact I think you’re home every night. Ear pressed to my fuckin wall, apparently.”

Anger bubbles up hot and sudden in your chest. He was still playing, still jesting. So why did red suddenly paint your complexion and creep over your field of vision? This cocky bastard. Pendejo. You’ll be damned if Javi gets the last word here, especially if that last word insinuates that you sit like a sad puppy next to your shared wall eavesdropping on his sex life.

You lean in close to the man, catching the musk of cologne and sweat radiating from his warm body. His shirt is unbuttoned into a deep v, skin glistening from the humidity and the alcohol. Javi watches as your pupils expand just so, the slightest shade of blush blooming across your cheeks.

Doubling down, you poke his exposed chest with two fingers. He shivers and you think it must be your hands, cold from wrapping around your low ball glass.

“I’ll prove it to you.” You reach up to pat his cheek before leaning back into the booth with resolve. “After this next drink.”

When you stand to cross the room and falter it’s Javi’s strong hands that fly to your waist to steady you. A burning sensation flutters beneath your skin where he holds you in place. It feels like a leather car seat on a summer's day back home. The sear of the supple material, jarring at first on the skin that peeks out from cut off shorts, soon absorbs and melts into you, sweet like sunshine, until you have to peel yourself away at your destination. Like you have to peel away now from his grip.

Seeing his opportunity Steve takes your hand and begins ushering the two of you out towards his car. Javi, seeing that his ride is leaving, gives in as well.

“Come on, sweetheart. We can have another drink when we get home. Tell Connie all about your secret love life, how’s that sound?” your friend coos to you in an effort to put you in the car willingly.

“Steve - I fucking love your wife.” You manage as you all but fall into the back seat behind where Javi already sits in the passenger.

“Same here, kid. ‘swhy I married her.”

Before Murphy can even choose a radio station a faint snore floats up from the backseat, your eyes glued shut as sleep takes you. The men stay silent on the drive home.

Let me know if you wanna be tagged for this series, I'm starting a list ☺️☺️

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